Category Archives: Health

Bridge (Temporary)

Beautiful day – low humidity, temperature.
Went to Dr. Auslander’s for temporary bridge. He numbed my upper mouth which hurt like a mother. Mind you I still fell asleep in the chair! Then he took a bunch of impressions with that glue paste plaster stuff. Then he ground down my remaining teeth – I could smell the burning enamel. Then a fragile temporary bridge was cemented in – I’m terrified that I’ll break it or god knows what will stick to it. Slept for a bit afterwards (four hours), then we went to Hard Times for lunch. Home and I fell asleep again(!). Chicken korma for dinner.

So many things I want to do with the computer to organize my life and I can’t seem to get started. Watching Season 1 Episode 2 of Southland. Mmmmm Benjamin McKenzie. Mmmm.

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Bed early tonight – work tomorrow. 😦

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9 May 2010

Here’s some background on what has knocked me sideways these last few weeks. Read and tell me what you think, if you’d like. (Keep in mind this was written on 9 May and some of the questions have been resolved since….

Bit nervous about 10 May (Ed.: the next day!) – I have to go talk to Dr. Armstrong (my GP) about the ‘event’ with Dr. Long (who is to do some medical work for me). See I was in a google group set up by her (Dr. Long’s) office and apparently I wasn’t a very nice young man and said some things she didn’t like. Not that I knew that she would be going over everything I said so closely, nor that certain topics were off limits. Her staff had just gone through a 100% turn-over (says something about her management) and frankly I couldn’t get answers to my questions. I hate when people answer specific medical questions with “probably” and “maybe.” Anyway, I noticed that after a note was posted saying, in very general terms, that ‘change is good’ etc., that suddenly there were no more e-mails from the group.

Well, at my recent (last Thursday) appointment, Dr. Long basically told me off and accused me of ‘bad-mouthing’ her staff. She didn’t listen to me but let me know that she was angry with me. Which I found (a) humiliating since Christopher was right there, and (b) annoying. I also found out, by dint of some not special detective work, that she’d booted me off the group. Not nice. Not nice at all. And now I don’t know if I want her doing complicated medical work for me, which should be (a) a privilege for her and (b) something I only allow people I trust very much to do. I realize I don’t have to love or even like her, but I need to know that I can talk to her about anything and that my care won’t suffer because she’s pissed off at me.

But maybe I’m histrionic, although my friends don’t seem to think so. In any event, I’m going to ask Dr. Armstrong tomorrow and also my counsellor and see what they say.

I feel so fat. We took mum and dad (with my brother and sister-in-law and niece and nephew) to a brunch buffet today for Mother’s Day. It was okay but so crowded. At least by the end though I’d calmed down.

Watched Bear Grylls’s new show “Worst Case Scenario” and really enjoyed it, and not only because Mr. Gorgeous himself was in it. But then I always like things that can explain what to do and how to survive in odd (but likely) situations).

Oh, let’s turn our attention to the current obsession. Here is some more of the Alaskan baby-daddy Levi Johnson…starting quite innocently:

LJ21

LJ22

But as everyone knows, staying that way – Mr. Johnson’s Johnson stayed shyly and demurely hidden in the Playboy photoshoot. Is he preserving himself for a future porn career? I figure unless Sarah does something outrageous he’s already lost his fifteen minutes of fame in the legit world so…if he wants to be on screens he’d better strip down and work hard……

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Some Movies You Should See

Or maybe not. Sorry for not blogging more recently. I blame Facebook and Twitter and laziness. Not to chums – I’m down 54.3 pounds since the end of January. 🙂

First movie: I am Guilty…

German movie about a disaffected, disconnected youth who tries to date the young Katje (only to find out she’s going out with another guy and not to discover she planned to humiliate him (maybe – it’s very unclear)). Despite that he has sex with bikers at a local men’s room by the Autobahn. He falsely confesses (the German title of the film is Falscher Bekenner) that he sabotaged a rich banker’s car leading to his death, and that committed arson on a building, causing an ill-defined scare in and around Krefeld. Armin’s family is gut Mittleklasse and rather indulgent as Armin is basically a lay-about oxygen thief. Finally he gets arrested (he actually runs away from the police — despite having drawn their attention to him!) and the film just

ends.

I didn’t like this film – it seemed silly and pretentious, I really don’t think that it makes any sense whatsoever and Armin seemed (intentionally?) to be a waster. The ‘degrading’ sex with the bikers seemed to give him pleasure – perhaps because it wasn’t very degrading at all. Who knows?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0444627/



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16 Mar 10

Well, ups and downs.

Work was okay but I found out that we won’t be going to Fort Gillem after all. So we lost the cost of the two tickets C had bought. I felt awful and worried.

After work, off to see Alan. All bright and bubbly and honestly I do enjoy this low carb ‘diet.’

Off to Tyson’s to get some Levenger stuff (soooo self-indulgent). Must find a cheap punch. E-Bay?

Humiliation at Coastal Flats where they walked me to a booth I was too big for. Mood down.

Dinner at Plato’s (third place we tried – CF, Red Lobster in SS but no parking) was delicious but v. filling – lobster bisque, chef’s salad, hot waiter (looked like a young Ryan Reynolds).

Here’s Ryan Reynolds. Not bad.

More to catch up on but it’s already late. Where do evenings go????

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11 Mar 10

Sorry for being away so long.

The blog is going to be a little different from now on – I’m not going to do huge obsessions on people and it’ll revert to more being about my life and thoughts and stuff.

Here are my notes from the 11th of March. I’m playing catch up.

Work was fine – except I didn’t do anything. Well, I did manage to update my travel arrangements with Lyndon for Atlanta – the car is now to be picked up and dropped off at College Park. Other than that, and dropping off to sleep for a while I mostly just read Gawker or Twitter and fucked around. Was noch? Nichts. By the afternoon the office very hot. Home straight after – C at work in DC. Either he has a cold or his allergies are really bad this year. I wish I could do something but he eschews aid (gets angry when I offer to take him to the doc for example).

Had a three-egg omelet for dinner which was nice, and some salami and pepperoni and cheese sticks. Not too awful. Washed my new polos and swapped out the dishes, another load is already in the sink. Watched “Psych” (love it, and James Roday is mega hot) and “Southland” (love it too and Ben Mackenzie’s cute as they come). Didn’t catch the second part of RHOOC reunion but it’s being dvr’d.

Hoping that I can get a decent set of office things before going on a business trip. Atlanta. Must start on that tomorrow, tout de suite!

Just feeling a little tired, and stuffs. Didn’t exercise. Here’s today’s numbers: 1227 calories, 77 g fat, 17 g carbs. I need to cut down on fat! It’s not my fault, guv, it’s the pepperoni. Need to get in some turkey or such over the weekend. Didn’t walk. Does washing the clothes and dishes count?

So no obsession but I will say that the above picture is shy little Levi Johnson. I will put up a pic of him now, and one of James Roday and Ben McKenzie.

Levi Johnson:

LJ29

It doesn’t get any racier than this. 😦 James Roday:

james_char_01.jpg

Not any racier than that either. Half his appeal is his persona on the show. And Ben Mackenzie. He’s actually a good actor which is convenient for the show since they hardly ever give him any lines.

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Uniform, a man in love

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More on Being Me

Well, this might very well be the longest I’ve ever waited to update my blog. My apologies.

Continuing the expose of me as an obese individual as we work our way to my ‘big’ decision, here’s an overview of how my life has been affected by being the size I am:

Well, let’s see. I find it hard to keep up with people when we walk along, and I have to stop and sit down all the time. At work if I’m talking to somebody, I can start to feel sore in my legs and have to sit down; if there’s no place to sit nearby it can be awkward.


I have to buy clothes on line and chose from a very limited selection and pay more than a normally-sized person. Basically I wear the same things over and over again.


I had to buy a car to fit me; which meant that it had to be larger than most people’s cars and was chosen mainly on the basis of whether or not it could ‘fit’ me, although I do like the car we have. I have to have the seat all the way back and the steering wheel all the way up and even then I am so close to the steering wheel that if the airbags deploy I will be at risk for severe injury.


At work I have to have a ‘bariatric’ chair specially ordered for me, as I am too big for the normal chairs. I hate being so singled out. At a former place of work, when we had fire drills I was to ‘wait in a safe area’ on the 13th floor to be rescued rather than hold everyone up trying to walk down stairs. Not only do I go much slower than everyone, I also am so wide that I take up the entire stairwell.


I can’t wear lace-up shoes because I can’t reach down far enough to tie the laces. It’s even hard for me to put on socks.


I have to ascend and descend stairs sideways because I have limited range of motion in my knees and must go slow anyway. Ascending is particularly brutal on me as I become heavingly out of breath almost immediately.


At home I can’t keep the house as clean as I should because more than a few minutes of housework is difficult for me; it hurts my back and my knees and shoulders. Kneeling to clean floors or low surfaces is out of the question.


My sofa is basically crushed even though it’s only five years old because of my weight sitting on it. I have to use a chair when I cook because my knees and legs cannot take standing long enough. I am too big for my dining room chairs and they can hurt; I am also too big to get around the dining room easily especially if guests are sitting at the table.


Emotionally the idea of cleaning or doing any physical work is daunting; if I didn’t have my partner who shoulders most of the burden of these tasks, I’d have to pay somebody to do so.


Going shopping is difficult for me because of the walking involved so many trips involve my partner going in and scouting things out for me so I don’t have to do all the walking.


Sitting in restaurants can be difficult and embarrassing. I have to make sure I can get a table, not a booth as may times I cannot fit in a booth. Sometimes, especially outside, the restaurant has resin chairs, which I’m too heavy for.


Going to sporting events and concerts fills me with dread as the seats are normally too small. When I fly I have to buy two seats for my size, request a seat belt extension, and ask to board early as I find it hard to walk down the narrow aisle on board. Frankly I wonder if I could escape a burning fuselage, or for that matter a burning building. When I rent a car it is always a worry; the car has to be big enough (which adds to the cost) and the seatbelt has to be long enough; or else I can’t drive. I’m terrified of winding up at an airport unable to continue my journey.


I never ride in anyone else’s car because I’m afraid of making a scene as I get in or out or seeing them scared of what damage I may to do to their seats.


Because of extreme shame regarding my size I do not have sexual relations easily; I am convinced despite his denials that my partner must find me hideous. I certainly do not have sex except in very very dark rooms.


Children call me names, sometimes loud enough for me to hear them. Sometimes their parents don’t correct them. It’s bad enough for me but I am so mortified for my partner.


I find it hard to think of myself as anything other than fat. Even in my daydreams I’m large and largely immobile, and there seems to be an enormous gulf between me and ‘normal people.’


Daydreaming or awake, I feel ashamed and embarrassed nearly all the time, despite my counsellor suggesting that I value the special attention I get and the allowances that are made for me.

Very soon indeed you, dear readers, will be treated to:

1) What’s been going on since 24 December last year.

2) What my ‘big’ decision is and what it entails.

3) Who the mystery man is and why he’s a bit less topical now than when I thought of him as an obsession.

Can you imagine? All this to be revealed soon?

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A Decision

I’ve decided to pursue a radical strategy to improve my life. The reason is my obesity which seems impervious to everything I’ve tried. Before going into my decision, I thought I would share with my myriad readers some of the background.

Installment One: The health effects I’ve had from being so heavy

Let’s start with my feet. My feet often hurt on even the slightest walk. I have had to have custom orthotics made to help me with the enormous weight pushing down on my incorrect stance and gait. Obesity-caused poor circulation means they are always cold.

Upwards to my legs: I suffer in both legs from chronic venous insufficiency – my circulation is so poor that blood pools there. Both my calves and shins are brown and red in color with very thin skin and a mottled appearance due to the pooling of blood caused by being obese. I have had two very painful and difficult to treat stasis ulcers – large holes in my flesh resulting from the venous stasis. In both cases they took quite some time to heal and were very unpleasant, not to mention a lot of trouble; multiple doctor visits, dressings on and dressings off all the time. There is no guarantee that I will not develop one or more again. I must wear compression stockings to help alleviate the stasis and the continuous torture of itching that the stasis creates.

My thighs are so large they have two permanent folds in them. I have to be careful to keep my skin nice and dry.

Also I have a large panniculum; the weight of my abdomen pulls on my back especially when I’m walking; after less than two dozen steps the pain starts and it does not let up until I sit down.

Because of the weight of my neck, I have sleep apnea which is treated by a CPAP machine.

Systemically, I suffer from gout which is associated with obesity. Also, I become out of breath easily when walking or climbing stairs. My weight and shape mean I cannot ascend or descend stairs which do not have sturdy hand rails and even then I cannot bend my legs sufficiently to ascend or descend except crab-fashion, sideways.

I have osteoarthritis in my right knee, the onset and increasing severity of which is associated with obesity. I am in pain nearly all the time from it.

At present I do not have high blood pressure or diabetes, however, my obesity puts me at extreme danger of developing these.

I cannot take many medical tests as I am too large; I would find a full-body MRI nearly impossible to fit in. Sonograms don’t work well through my fat, nor does a doctor’s palpitation.

Not obese

Bruno Schuind is certainly not obese is he? We’ve seen him in jeans, in speedos, in undies, now here he is in something less. Sadly we must say good bye to him as our next obsession begins with our next blog post; a glimpse of him is up top:


Bruno Schuind 11_04g Bruno Schuind 11_05g Bruno Schuind 11_06g

Bruno Schuind 11_01g

Bruno Schuind 11_02g

Bruno Schuind 11_03g  

Bruno Schuind 11_07g Bruno Schuind 11_08g 11_09g

(He’s been a patient lad; how would you reward him?)


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Step 2 Part 3

A Storia Continua…

So time went on…I was getting a bit less depressed, but I of course I confused “feeling good” with “eating a lot” especially in the gourmet restaurants of Arlington, Virginia. And there was essentially nobody who held me accountable, I mean my mum and dad’s admonitions were pretty much just background buzzing to me, I mean – it hadn’t done much good until then so why would it now.

My beloved husband C came into my life then, first on line, then when he finally came to America to live with my I really was happy. He tried to support me when I declared I wanted to lose weight but the responsibility really wasn’t and isn’t his. Plus I can see he’s torn between wanting what’s best for me, what I demand (either whiningly or forcefully), and his love for me. As I say it’s really unfair and difficult the position he’s in. But I love his support for my good impulses.

A few years ago, my doctor told me that I should look into bariatric surgery. The idea intrigued me but the prospect of the battle with the insurance company, and anesthetic (!) scared me. Plus part of me wasn’t sure that I could really ‘live’ only eating a cup or so of food a meal. So I made a bargain with…um…many people, some real, some not, that I’d try weight watchers really strictly and exercise and see if that didn’t lose me some weight.

So I joined WW, and engaged a very tall personal trainer to get me out of the house and onto my feet. And I did really well; at first I could only walk six minutes before having to sit down and catch my breath; I got up to sixty minutes at a time. But he didn’t like the idea of strength training and I did. Come winter, I conquered my fear of the gym and actually went to one, and began working out, mainly on the treadmills. And everything went well, for a while. (See a pattern?)

We had to ramp the personal trainer down from twice a week to once, and then ‘let him go.’ And things haven’t held together all that well; I am too lazy, erm, unmotivated. But I did still sometimes make it to the gym and stuff and I still felt okay about things. Of course, eating was still my bête noir. Again, I lacked any form of accountability; I skipped out on WW whenever I felt like it, soaked up the praise when I ‘did good’ and whined about my ‘life story’ when I overate, and generally made an utter joke about what I was trying to do.

Recently even that fell by the wayside: (1) I had a nasty ankle condition that wound up with doctor’s order to stay off the treadmill which I used to (2) excuse myself from eating well which directly or indirectly (3) caused me to revert, emotionally back to where I was when I started; happy to spend money on fitness, feeling alienated from the gym, feeling ‘not as good’ as the guys there, feeling like all I can/want to do is eat and pretend that I’ll do something about it all manyana which never comes.

Okay, so my counsellor wants me to consider whether or not I will be alive in oh, say five or ten years. Statistically, actuarially, I won’t be. So why’m I not scared? I’m a ticking time-bomb for a heart attack, a stroke, degenerative disk disease, diabetes at the least. It’s not really a question of if I will succumb to one of these conditions, but when. And that when can’t be far off.

Oddly, I seem to be a kid in this area, and in many areas. I have the same attitude that my Godson has; I hide behind the effects of my irresponsible behaviour by figuring it can never happen to me. He smokes, which I consider crazy due to its health effects; I stay heavy, which anyone else would. In fact, my counsellor has asked me to do the following:

1) Take a picture of myself now, mostly naked, quite objectively. (For one of the fitness programs I’ve bought and am a bit enthusiastic about following because again, I’ll have constant qualified cheerleading, although I guess that could be mere exteriorization of motivation and doom me to fail).

2) Compare that to any pictures of myself pre-bloat (which will be hard to find) when I was thinner or at least closer to normal sized.

3) Work out how I can be less child-like in my thinking (with relation to my self-destructive eating and exercising, and my parents).

(All this by the 27th!)

More to come!

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My Story Part 2

Part 2…Young and Reckless

Well, my family left the states and went to live in Germany. I went to a German-American high school for the last two years. It was quite good but not very interested in athletics. Possibly it went ‘too far’ into the other direction. The only thing we had was a ‘sort of’ PE class where we mostly skived off, and Bundesjugendspiele – a German national youth games that you did sports and stuff as a whole school. Most of my friends (and I finally got friends) were rail-thin from excessive partying, or like me, a bit plump, but either way, not too physically active. Or were we? Unlike the US I did walk a lot in Germany because I didn’t have a car, while the city had great public transport. I’d think nothing of walking to the U-Bahn (metro), then all around town shopping, coming home with my feet on fire. I did take tennis lessons but would whine that they began too early and dropped them. Or my dad, who was taking them with me dropped them. Or let me. I don’t remember.

Ah but then I got a car and my walking days were essentially over. Oh, I’d go from the car park to the office or the shops but I was very good at finding the stores with underground or roof-top parking. I still would do things that would leave me half dead now; visiting my friend deep in the medieval heart of Tuebingen, where it wasn’t practical to drive, for example, but don’t believe everything you may hear about how Europeans walk more than Americans do; it’s perfectly possible to live just as sedentary life there as here. Harder to walk in the US though, I guess, with the lack of sidewalks, etc.

So we came back to the US and I was still able to buy my clothes in ‘normal’ stores. Off to finish up my college and again, I did walk more than now, but not much. And nobody was pushing me to do sports; I had no close friends who were athletic, and please remember — I had no clue what to do but I did enjoy my freedom to do nothing, so nothing is what I did. And of course, with a job and a car, you can literally eat 24 hours a day. I didn’t but I didn’t really deny myself much. This was a time when some issues with my family were really coming to a head and I was pretty much miserable and unhappy for many years. And I grew; this is the time I think when I went from ‘chubby’ to ‘big.’

The messages I was sending myself really sucked. I started hanging out at Girth and Mirth, a club for large men and their admirers, and found a lover who liked me for my fatness (and maybe niceness too). Now, I have to figure that’s like being turned on by somebody either suicidal or at least very sick, but there you are. I wasn’t alone. Well, then he left me and I was alone and I didn’t even have his eyes to watch over me and tell me I was eating too much (not that he ever did). I was extraordinarily sad and depressed and ate quite a bit. Since I didn’t hurt and could fit in my car, I didn’t bother much about it. I considered it ‘freedom’ to deep fry crap and ‘liberty’ to eat vast amounts of dessert all the time. If only I’d known. (That seems really on looking back to be a theme.)

Time went by and I really didn’t want to admit any consequences to my behaviour, nor to my indulgent overeating. Oh, well. I frankly didn’t care. Professionally there was quite a bit of turmoil in my life at this point, and financially as well, and I went from not having the money to buy food, not eating nearly every dinner out, at Denny’s, where I was famous for my order of battered deep fried chicken strips with french fries and french fries (eeeewww who wants those nasty vegetables?).

Wound up moving to Northern Virginia, where I equated “ethnic food” with “good food” and ate a lot of it. Especially delivered; it was classy and in, so it couldn’t be bad, right? Life was pretty empty then, I had my friends but I was still on my butt financially and emotionally.

And then came the winter of my content. I was working in an office with a real buffster, a winner of the Army bodybuilding championship and I finally asked him to design a weight training routine for me. He agreed and I was doing push-ups and sit-ups and riding the recumbent bike. My longest time was 45 minutes. I also adopted a very low fat diet. I ate nothing that had less than 3 grams of fiber per serving, no red meat, hardly any chicken, some fish, etc. And I lost eighty pounds. I was feeling really good. I remember one time I stood up to get out of my car at the shopping center, but my jeans didn’t stand up. They stayed where they were and I had to hold them up I’d lost so much so fast.

I joined Overeaters Anonymous and that was a bit of a help, maybe mostly because it kept my attention focussed on what I was doing. I remember feeling so self-involved (in a good way) – I lived, breathed and ate weight-loss, abstinence and low-fat. When I went to my mum and dad’s for dinner, I brought my own food (vegetable casserole, brown rice). I realize now I was eating very well – mainly beans and vegetables, fruits, whole grains, little meat, high-fiber. I did develop a taste for brown rice, but I still only ‘somewhat’ like eggplants, despite eating rather a lot of them.

So what happened? Well, I missed a gym session. Nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. And honestly after those two misses, well, it was all up in smoke.

Soon after, I met my wonderful husband. More on that to come.

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Monday Monday

Just a quick little blurt today. We took my mum out to dinner at ‘The Blue Dolphin’ in Crofton. It was fine but I’m not in a hurry to get back.

Okay so everyone’s going bananas about this health care reform. I have also heard about how one big thing is that our obesity epidemic needs to be tackled by ‘individual responsibility’ or addressed by a ‘fat tax.’

So let’s look at that.

First off at first blush it would appear that the problem is very simple. One becomes overweight when one creates a caloric surplus – when one takes in more calories than one expends. Therefore, and it’s no secret, that to lose weight, one should create a caloric deficit – one should expend more calories that one takes in. Simple, right?

Except. We know it’s not. Obesity and the behaviors which lead to it are understood as mostly involving something other than a lack of will power. (If it were merely a lack of will power then surely obese people have only themselves to blame and it would be a simple matter of encouraging them to find the will power or dealing with their irrational choices. Pretty cut and dried. But it never seems to work that way.

Rightly or wrongly the medical establishment, and countless speakers and writers on the subject, have analyzed the behaviors which seem to create obesity as a disease. Certainly it’s an irrational self-harming behavior as much as alcoholism or gambling addiction, or drug addiction. But what cures does modern medicine offer? It’s an important question because the only rational basis for assigning blame and responsibility for this condition would be if there were a cure available. You can’t blame somebody for refusing a cure which doesn’t exist, can you?

The most efficacious cure is bariatric surgery. Interestingly this is not automatically covered by insurance, nor have its long-term effects been studied, nor is it without risk (any surgery to an obese person is risky), nor is it a firm cure; a dedicated overeater can defeat it over time. So there’s the best cure.

Okay so we don’t want to rely on that and insurance mostly doesn’t cover it and when it does you have to (get this) demonstrate that all else has failed. Because of course any invasive procedure should be the last resort.

But the first resort, recommending that the person exercise more and eat less is not what you’d call universally effective. Most people who try it (or who say they’re trying it) fail. Not everyone fails. But what most people get – exhortations, dire warnings, little brochures, etc. – doesn’t seem to be enough.

But we may say, well, if overeating is an addiction (which chemically it seems to be) why not treat it like other addictions, like alcoholism or gambling addiction or drug addiction. Here’s the rub though: None of the treatment programs for alcoholism involve the sufferer having three drinks a day. Nobody suggests that the compulsive gambler place bets but only morning, noon, and evening. And I’m not an expert but I doubt people get over heroin by having only three fixes a day. But the overeater still has to eat. The drunkard can stop drinking. The bettor can never wager again. The drug addict can abstain totally. Only the overeater has to revisit his or her compulsion three (or more if you follow fitness experts’ advice) times a day, day in and day out.

It seems to me that the overeater is told the following:

  1. You have a disease, one which is manifest in chemical reactions in your brain (release of seratonin).
  2. We don’t know how to treat it conclusively. We may or may not be able to cure it.
  3. But if you don’t get better, you’re lazy. it’s all your fault and you should pay in higher premiums or a fat tax.

Fair? I guess it’s in the eye of the beholder.

More to come on this topic in my next post.

How about that Phil?

Yes, how about our edible entrepreneur? I’ve found some more pictures of his hotness for your delight:
First he’s with his fiancee, the lovely and accomplished Ilona (a top flight attorney for lesbian civil rights):

Next, discussing what looks like either the internet, or technology, or business or the intersection of them all (where he really shines):
And finally, cutest of all, half asleep but totally cuddly:
(That brainy head needs a massage, don’t you think?)

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