I'm just on the line between "normal" and "overweight", and the first time I went to my old doctor, she weighed me and then very pointedly checked the BMI and shook her head. I don't go to her any more, obviously.
I know I've shared the story about my ex-shrink who, instead of asking me if I was still having suicidal ideation, asked me my weight and height and calculated my BMI and then told me how many pounds a week I needed to lose in order to be a healthy weight AND THEN told me she would prescribe weight-loss drugs if I wanted.
I didn't ask her how many of her patients killed themselves because of her poor care and/or because she made them feel horrible for daring to be fat at her.
More recently, when my back was torqued in August and wouldn't un-torque, I had to see a backup doctor just to get some goddamn flexiril, since my most excellent doctor wasn't available. The backup doctor (who I DO NOT LIKE, but she was the only one available and I really needed flexiril) told me that if I lost weight, my back wouldn't hurt.
I asked her -- I swear to you that this is true -- what she tells her thin patients who have back pain.
She told me that wasn't relevant, and that being overweight is a known cause of back pain. And I said I had heard that, too, but it sure was interesting how many not-overweight people also had back pain.
She gave me the stinkeye and then asked what pharmacy I use, so she could call in the Rx for flexiril. I really dislike her. It's a testament to how badly my back hurt that I was willing to see her in order to get the drugs.
For Pete, and Jilli and other fine appreciators of beautiful illustration and the macabre: The 1885 Calendrier Magique.
Colored Lithographs by Manuel Orazi. A rare piece of occultist ephemera, printed in an edition of 777 copies to commemorate magic for the coming year of 1896. Each double page spread mimics the Christian calendar in some respect (name days, iconography). The document is at once a spoof and an attempt to chart the year of magic. Its surviving interest resides in the extravagant and compelling illustrations, especially the full-page right hand plates, by Manuel Orazi.
Well, I tried yesterday and today to early vote, but the lines were insane, and outside the building. I'll vote when the line can at least be contained by the building, or wait for the big party long line on election day.
Long lines? To vote? All I can think is
:: please be Obama votes please be Obama votes... ::
:: please be Obama votes please be Obama votes... ::
Well, if the stereotype profile fits, then you betcha they were Obama voters. The library that has the early voting near me is in a predominantly black area. Most of the lines I saw on the news were black voters too. The radio stations have been loudly encouraging early voting. The black announcers on the stations that my kids listen to have been particularly vocal in reminding people that Florida is a swing state and we have to actually vote to make the polling numbers count.
It won't make up for our disgraceful election shenanigans in the past, but I will be so relieved if we get it right this time. (and I won't have to hear all the shit from my NY Democratic family members)
For Pete, and Jilli and other fine appreciators of beautiful illustration and the macabre:
That's fascinating. Shame there's not an easier way to view them all at full size. 4 clicks just to get to one image at a moderate viewing size does not make Pete a happy boy.
ION, BMI is indeed complete shit. Professionals who use it anger me because I consider them lazy fucks who think a one-size-fits-all mathematical calculation is somehow an acceptable substitute for actually communicating with their patients.
At Em's last checkup, they calculated her BMI. I'm switching pediatricians.
Hi Aims.
That is fucking wrong. Feel free to kneecap the pediatricians on your way out.
At Em's last checkup, they calculated her BMI. I'm switching pediatricians.
Jesus H.-- I'm, I'm...
I'm with Pete. Kneecap the motherfuckers.
