Black Prep by Kimberley Baker Guillemet

Author:Kimberley Baker Guillemet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ransom & Baker Publishing House
Published: 2021-11-22T15:17:24+00:00

CHAPTER 16

In a Race with Myself

Shortly before I began eighth grade, my mother took me to the doctor for my annual physical. I was terrified. I knew that whatever my doctor would have to say wouldn’t be good. Each year, I dreaded stepping on the scale, but on this particular year, I dreaded it even more, because I had noticed that it was getting increasingly more difficult to find clothes that fit me. My stomach was getting rounder, and I was struggling to reach down to tie my shoes because my stomach was in the way. When I stood up and looked down, I could no longer see my toes.

As I walked into my doctor’s office, I knew what was coming. Another lecture. Another suggested “Live-it.” I was ready. When I stepped on the scale, the number read more than 230 pounds. For reference, I was five feet, two inches. I knew the number on the scale wasn’t great, but I wasn’t that concerned until my doctor entered the room.

Dr. Haendel had been my pediatrician since I was born. When he came into the examination room, he looked at me and said, “This is not good. You weigh more than I do, and I am a grown man.” I immediately felt a lump materializing in my throat and tears welling up. I expected a sensitive lecture with not-so-subtle hints, but this level of directness, I did not expect. I held it together though. I looked down and willed my tears to not fall out of my eyes.

He continued, “You’re too young for this. You have to get healthy.”

He then addressed my mother and said, “I ran her numbers. She has high blood pressure and high cholesterol. You must take this seriously. Doesn’t her dad have heart disease?”

My mother answered, “Yes, he has already had two heart attacks, and his doctor has him on a weight loss regimen.”

“And how old is he?” he asked.

“Ray is 41,” my mother answered quietly.

Dr. Haendel then said to me, “Look, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but this is serious business.” I was quiet. I had nothing to say.

Mommy came to my rescue and said, “We understand, Dr. Haendel. Don’t worry. We will get it under control.”

On the way home, I was quiet. I wasn’t used to being called out directly by grown-ups. My mother protected Sydney and me a lot—especially when it came to our weight. When other adults made comments about our weight, she rushed to our defense and would console us later with food outside of the naysayer’s presence. It was our cycle. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but it made me feel safe because it was familiar. But I knew it had to change ... eventually. I was scared that maybe “eventually” was now.

We went about our regular post-healthcare provider admonishment shopping trip and purchased rice cakes, celery sticks and the like, and then went home and cleaned out the cupboards. My mother told us that it was going to be different this time.

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