16 June, 1998
Whale

I am sick today. The inner workings of my digestive system have declared a strike and will not work in the way they were intended. So I sit here in front of the box, trembling slightly, staring blearily because I haven't the energy to do anything productive, like sew, or clean, but I am restless and do not want to read a book either. So I am on the 'net where I can give myself the illusion of moving round without moving at all.

Only my fingers move over the keys and my eyes flicker back and forth over the words of a gaggle of people, all talented storytellers in their own right, who keep me entertained as I while away the hours until wellness returns to my body.

The sun is a bright pattern of lights against the shade, drifting down through the leaves of the tree outside. The air conditioning is turned up, keeping it very cool inside, so that I have yet another illusion, of it being a nice day out. Opening the sliding glass door out onto the balcony yields a sudden blast of suffocating, dense, humid heat, revealing the lie of climate control and sending me staggering back into the cool dark interior.

My toes are cold in here. I cannot breathe outside. But I ponder the aqua blue expanse of the pool outside across the parking lot and think that it might mke me feel better to wallow in the cool water. Back and forth, back and forth the ping pong ball of indecision. To swim or not to swim. To put on the hideous bright pink, orange and blue suit, which is the only one which fits anymore, or to hide inside some more, safe from the prying eyes of the neighbors.

If you are thin ... have you ever wondered what it feels like to be fat? To wonder if people are looking at your bloated body with disgust and loathing? Have you ever feared going out in shorts because you didn't want to offend the sensibilities of the general public? Most of the time, I adopt a devil may care attitude. I wear what I want and I don't worry about it. I don't think about it, I just live and wrap myself in a cocoon of insouciance.

But it's much harder when summer comes and the water is inviting and I want to bathe myself in it and feel light and relaxed and whole. Insecurity strikes then, when I have to stuff all 220 pounds of me into a small piece of stretchy material which reveals every dimple, fold and flab which graces my frame.

I am not huge, but the slender athletic build which belongs to my mother left me a long time ago. Yet I haven't the staying power and self-discipline to really do anything about it. Don't get me wrong, I eat very healthily: lots of veggies, fruits and grains, very little meat on the whole. My weakness is milk products, which I am mildly allergic to. Cheese, milk, yogurt, ice cream, most frequently milk, tall glasses of cold, cold 1% milk. My diet isn't really the problem. It's exercise.

I don't like most forms of exercise. Or rather, I do not like to exercise for the sake of exercise alone. I enjoy games: volleyball, softball, tennis. I like to swim, walk and bike. If I lived in a slightly different area, I would walk everywhere. But the loud noisy streets which are the main thoroughfare here are not conducive to pleasant strolls or even a quick jaunt to the grocery store, even if it is only 3/4 of a mile distant.

So. The pool. We moved here and I immediately became excited about it being there. This was my chance, I thought to myself, to swim the laps, to lose the excess weight, to slowly whittle off another 10 ... 20 ... 30 pounds and then make an extra effort and lose that last 20 to be a nice healthy, svelte, but still Reubenesque, 160-170 pounds. But I look out there and see the bathing beauties in their little bikinis and I am stricken with fear.

I recall the insults tossed at me by kids, friends even, when I was a teen and weighed in at a positively slender, by comparirson, 150 -- "big blue whale" ... "beluga" ... "orca" ... "Moby Jane". Paralysed I have trouble convincing myself to squeeze into that last bathing suit I bought when I was 18, a size 20 and I can just barely fit myself into now.

And I am scared to buy a new one too, afraid to find out what size I need now. most likely only a 22 since I've dropped 15 pounds since this winter. That's the real rub you see. I've lost 15 pounds in about 6 months. So I'm doing something right, right?

But 15 pounds is only a drop in the bucket, when you're a whale.