Tag Archives: BMI

Index Schmindex

Who created the BMI Index?  I’d love to know.  There’s nothing like a good sit down with your doc… except for the moment when she slides the BMI index across her desk and starts highlighting shit.  I’ve tried to keep it together pretty well this last week… etc.  I’ve been doing amazingly well.  Despite being paranoid that someone is mad at me allll the time (more on that neurosis later), I’ve been at the top of my game.  Willing to accept that my  marriage isn’t what I thought it would be, what I dreamed it would be… but that it is what it is.  I have to exist in it as it is, for now anyway.  There are lots of reasons I “have to” and they’re pretty obvious.  Financially it would be impossible to “create a new life” for myself.  And even if I could… I’m still not convinced I’d be better off in that imaginary life.  Of course now it seems simpler and less of a struggle.  I could just feel whatever I feel and not have to explain every intricate detail of why I feel that way when I feel that way.  I wouldn’t have to present mini-dissertations on every thought I have and where it came from.  I could just exist.  Happily.  I wouldn’t be told by someone who claims he loves me that I’m getting too comfortable in the job that I love.  I wouldn’t be told by my husband, while explaining the previous statement, that he “just meant” that “I’d rather tell people that my wife is a lawyer, or a psychiatrist.”  Sometimes I’m amazed at the shit I swallow.  It makes me angry and frustrated… and those words are miniature compared to how I really feel.  I digress.

The BMI Index.  I’d just love to meet the bastard who came up with those numbers.  I won’t go into the details of where I fall – but I can tell you that my “ideal weight” will never be reached.  And saying to me, “Now I know it seems like an impossible goal… BUT…”  isn’t comforting.  I know you’re a doctor and you’re supposed to tell me to watch my weight – but pointing out just where I fall on the ole’ index and reminding me, verbatim, that I’m in the “overweight” category is taking to a little too far, don’tchya think?  Plus, I just got done telling you that there is literally no time, and literally no money for a gym membership and radical health diet – so excuse me if I ask for a B-R-E-A-K break.  I’d be happy if I lost about 15 pounds – and most people I know feel the same way.  But this chic wants me to lose 35 pounds so I can look like I did in high school.  Nice as that would be – it’s actually not humanly possible for me right now b/c I don’t SLEEP at a gym.  And I happen to have the kind of metabolism and body structure that will gain weight if I am not CONSTANTLY exercising and eating lettuce.  Screw that – who does that?  Not me.  And not anyone I know.

So I have to thank the BMI for this most recent mental disturbance… because it has brought pretty much every insecurity that I have been having over the last year, right to the surface!  I just went in for a yearly pap – and I came out with a nervous breakdown.  Who knew the lady doc had so much power.  First, she asked me why I wasn’t on birth control.  “Because… (hahaha??) my husband and I pretty much don’t have sex anymore.”  Yeah… okay so you’re sorry to hear that.  Thanks?  “Is it because of your libido?  Or because of everything you’ve told me about how things are going…??”  Can’t you answer that yourself?  So, the thing is I really do like this doctor who was asking me all these questions.  And I was great at my answers… stating the obvious at times and other times sincerely stating things like, “Well, I’ve just come so far emotionally over the last few years and my husband doesn’t seem to be as comfortable as I am with the newer, stronger me.”  Ha!  It’s true… right?  I’m newer, and stronger.  I have worked amazingly hard to get to where I am today.  And where am I?  Sitting across from my lady doc coming apart just a little bit with every question she asks.  Yes, there are some major life changes that have contributed to the difficulties that my husband and I have had.  Yes, it’s a libido issue – I don’t want to have sex.  Ever.  And yes, I guess those lubricants can help… on the rare occasion that I do feel sorry enough for my husband to give into him.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy it once it’s started… but the desire and the interest to get it started is non-existent.

He thinks I don’t love him anymore.   So sometimes I wonder if I do.  Sometimes I ask myself, what the hell there is to love.  I don’t feel emotionally supported.  I don’t feel strengthened… nurtured… admired.  I don’t feel anything I think I’m supposed to feel in a marriage.  I just feel trapped – in many ways, for many reasons.  I trapped myself – emotionally – years ago.  And I’m just trying to think myself into acceptance and lower expectations.  It’s not really working.  He says I can’t let anything go.  But how do I let it go when it’s in my face all the time?  He ALWAYS wants to have sex.  “Doesn’t it make you feel good that I want you all the time?”  My response?  “You are a man.  Seriously?  I breathe… that pretty much is all you need to be horny.”  He thinks that’s harsh – and maybe it is.  But he’s not exactly interested in doing what I’ve asked him to do to help me be more interested.  I know that men connect physically rather than emotionally – or so the story goes.  I don’t entirely buy it.  Women connect physically as well – but not without some freakin’ effort.  I’m always supposed to meet him halfway – have sex with him.  But he never has to meet me halfway – take me on a date every blue moon – dress up!!!  Tell me to dress up!  Surprise me!  Get me a card for no reason.  Tell me I’m beautiful!  Ask me for advice!  Aren’t these normal things that couples do?

No wonder I have such good “other man” dreams.  I’m pretty much as low as I get now – tears are stock piled and I can’t breathe out of my nose.  It’s okay.  I’m used to his place.  I feel somewhat comfortable here – and I’m okay with letting myself cry it out.  It’s necessary.  Especially when the hope for change is nearly nonexistent.  He’ll never change.  He’s firm in who he is and he’s always been that way.  It’s me that’s changed.  I don’t want what he has to offer anymore and he isn’t willing to give me what I need.  It just doesn’t add up anymore.  But here we are existing and trying to make the best of it.  I wonder how long and how much harder we will try.  I wonder if it’s the effort that matters, and not the end result.  Of course there’s no such thing as a happy marriage — err…. a perfect marriage.  I just want some basic needs met.  That’s all.  Just for him to say the right thing at least some of the time.   And when he doesn’t?  I just want him to be able to say, “I said the wrong thing.  I’m sorry.”  Show some vulnerability for god’s sake.

I think it’s time for bed.  Man, I could use a good escape dream tonight!  Summoning the other man dreams lol.  🙂