Trapped in a Nightmare

Last night I had a horrible nightmare. It's one that plagues me over and over, especially after I have eaten at Las Palmas and chowed down enough tortilla chips and salsa to fuel me for days, let alone the enchiladas that followed.

The dream always starts the same way: I am just relaxing in bed, watching a little TV, my hand stuffed into a bag of Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos. Suddenly, Richard Simmons appears as an apparition at the foot the bed. Now, any dream with Richard Simmons is automatically punted into nightmareville by some demon sandman's special team, but this one gets worse.

He is wearing glitter spandex and shrieking, "WE LOVE YOU BUT WE CAN'T WATCH YOU KILL YOURSELF!" Immediately, a team of firefighters wielding chainsaws start carving up my house, enlarging the doorways to haul me out - mattress attached. The intervention goes down hill from there as I am pulled and pummeled from my boudoir, hammy fingers still clutching those delectable sandwich cookies.

Whew. It was just a dream.

Not really having the resources or inclination to contact a Freudian analyst or some oracular shaman for interpretation, here's what I think the dream means: INSIDE OF EVERY FAT PERSON IS A FATTER PERSON TRYING TO GET OUT.

That can be the only possible explanation for my lifelong commitment to yo-yo dieting. Blubber, it seems, will simply not be denied. Lose the weight, and your chubby doppelganger will haunt you until you die of diabetes with an eclair in each hand.

This is hard stuff. I am always mystified by people who think nothing of commenting on people's weight and saying things that are rude and hurtful. They talk about willpower, and just eating until you feel a little full, and how that when THEY get upset they can't eat (BLOGGER'S WARNING: NEVER trust anyone who says they can't eat when they are upset).

Life is not easy for people who struggle with their weight. Imagine walking into a waiting room or a professional meeting and having to scan the room to make sure there is a chair that will fit you. Or always being embarrassed when people start talking about health concerns related to weight or make comments about someone else's size.

My personal favorite is the FAT TAX. This is the most heinous of all discriminations. Here's how it works. Walk into Walmart and buy a sweatshirt. Note the prices? Sweatshirts - $8....Big Sizes, $2 MORE. The two bucks is the fat tax.

I won't belabor this, but stereotypes about people of size are some of the last socially acceptable biases. Fat people are lazy, less competent, unappealing in your business, lack discipline, and they don't even mind when you make a joke about their weight! I got news for you, I have lost more pounds and asserted more discipline over food than any ten people.

As terrifying as a late night hallucination of Richard Simmons may be, obesity is the real nightmare. Contests are fun, and this one is certainly for a great cause. But let's not forget that there are almost 100 people who have agreed to be part of the Big Give, putting themselves on the line, drawing attention to some of their most sensitive and personal spaces. Cheer them on!