I am the 0.5%

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the twilight zone that is my life today, where people who have never had a significant weight problem are full of advice and admonishments.

I went to the doctor today for my monthly weigh-in. I managed to gain 1.9 pounds over the holidays. THE HORROR! THE HORROR! I AM A FAILURE! I AM LOSING FOCUS! OH MY GOD IT IS THE END OF LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, WESTERN CIVILIZATION! THE COMMUNIST HORDES ARE BEARING DOWN ON US AT THIS VERY MOMENT BECAUSE I, THE FAILURE OF MANKIND, GAINED A SCOCHE LESS THAN 2 POUNDS OVER THE HOLIDAYS! DEATH! DESTRUCTION! ETERNAL HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE! YEA VERILY I WILL NEVER LOSE WEIGHT IF I DON'T TOE THE LINE AND ...

Yeah.

So, this was pretty much the gist of my doctor's appointment. Now, I confess, it's two months in a row when I have not made any real significant progress. Gee. I mean, it's November and December and I didn't lose tons of weight by giving up all parties, all goodies, and just locking myself in a darkened room away from everything until January like what people seem to expect of me because I don't look like a blankety-blank super model.

People. Let me tell you something. I admit that there for a good hour I moped and thought less of myself because my doctor was upset at me for gaining 1.6 pounds. As a matter of fact, it triggered my old disordered thoughts about starvation and extreme workouts. I rushed to get a fitness planner to write everything down and was in the midst of Michael's searching for just the right one when I suddenly stopped. I put everything back. I walked out the door, got in my car, went to Starbucks, got a latte and my favorite breakfast sandwich, and went home to think. And then I wrote down what I ate, like I'm supposed to.

I currently weigh 322.3 pounds. One percent of that would be 3.22 pounds. About half of that would be 1.6 pounds. Half a percent. One half. Of one. Percent. 0.5%

For those of you keeping score, whether it's in science or statistics, half a percent is meaningless. Half a percent is margin of error. I'm not saying that I want to gain 1.6 pounds every month. That would not be in line with my interests. What I am saying is that it's the first time I've gained weight for that monthly weigh-in in six months. Six months have passed without me gaining weight. Half a year. Half a year is a significant length of time. Especially when you're trying to get something done.

I could have walked out in the hall and farted and reweighed and lost 1.6 pounds at that doctor's office. I could have sneezed or coughed or shifted around while standing on the scale and the weight would have been different in either direction. I could have taken off a layer of clothing. Heck, it was 25 degrees this morning. Yeah, my clothes are going to be a little heavier.

So not only am I NOT going to buy a planner, and NOT going to starve myself or berate myself or hurt myself in any way because of something statistically insignificant, I'm actually going to be pretty pissed off that someone in the medical profession would have the colossal effrontery to get hacked off at me for something well within a margin of error. What I am going to do for next time is show her my SparkPeople food log and show her what I've done, and show her how much my weight fluctuates in a given month. And I'm not going to give a single solitary flying... well, you know.

Another thing I'm not going to do is discuss it with my husband, because he is being a complete know-it-all pain in the neck, and oooooooooh just because you ride an exercise bike twice a week and eat a salad for lunch every third Tuesday does not suddenly make you some kind of dang fitness expert. Ooooooooh that man just burns my biscuits. Just for that, I'm going to reinstate tofu week and confiscate his junk food stash he doesn't know that I know about. We'll just see what Mr. Know-It-All says about that, now won't we!