The Price of Being F A T: A Cost Benefit Analysis By Someone Who Is Still In Debt

In a word...expensive. But maybe not for the reasons you think. Sure, I suppose the most obvious contributor to the price tag is the food. Number Ones and Number Twos from Wendy’s, McDonald’s, and Chik-Fil-A don’t run cheap…especially when they’re supersized and you eat them on a nearly daily basis. Then there’s the cost of taking a taxi three blocks because you want to avoid working up a sweat before your arrival at an important meeting or appointment. And of course, the clothes. When the majority of dresses in your closet begin with a “4” or “3” and end with an “X,” you can trust that what they lack in style they will certainly make up for in price. After all, it takes a lot of material to make a tent.

The list is endless. But the “good” thing is that this particular part of the equation is filled with items that we can quantify relatively easily. If I order a large number one from Wendy’s it will cost me about $6 or $7. If I take a taxi from the intersection Broad and Chestnut to the intersection of 17th and Chestnut, I’ll have to pay $5 or $6. And finally, if I purchase that jacket from Catherine’s Plus Size Clothing Shoppe, I’ll have to come up with $68 or $77, depending on whether I’m in a 3X or a 4X that day.

But what about the intangibles? They are insidious and not amenable to calculation, but our analysis would be incomplete without an examination of these hidden costs. For example, what about the dull headache I had most mornings because my undiagnosed sleep apnea meant that I literally stopped breathing hundreds of times the night before? How about the trip to the amusement park with my friends where I had to watch from the sidelines, pretending to hate all roller coasters because I feared that their harnesses wouldn’t fit my frame? And what about the relationships and friendships I never formed because I was shut in a room, hiding, embarrassed, and limited by what I had done to myself?

As much as I wish I could assign a dollar amount to these intangibles, I cannot. That’s because it goes without saying that good friends, quality time with family, and our lives are priceless. I know I have a lot of life ahead of me, but I’m nonetheless saddened by the fact that I took so long to regain control. I thought my life was full before I had gastric bypass, but the truth is the only things about me that were full were my hips and my stomach:-). My obesity cost me a lot, but I'm paying down my debt on a daily basis each time that I choose to live. And now is the moment for you to ask yourself, when you do your own cost benefit analysis, can you justify the choices you’ve made?

Choose to live.

The Not So Friendly Skies

Making reservations. Standing in long lines. Packing toiletries. Assembling cute outfits. Gathering travel documents and quart size bags for your liquids. Removing shoes for airport security. These are the things that “normal” people do when preparing for air travel. But, what about purchasing a seatbelt extender because you don’t want to go through the embarrassment of asking the flight attendant for one? Or worrying that the airline is going to require you to purchase an additional ticket because you’re encroaching on your neighbor’s seat? How about considering the possibility of flying from Philadelphia to Boston by way of Milwaukee just because Midwest Airlines has larger seats? Or my personal favorite, visiting the airline’s website to determine the exact model of the airplane that will transport you from Point A to Point B?

Sounds strange, doesn’t it? Most of us don’t care whether we’re on a Boeing 737-800 or an Embraer RJ145. But, when you’re obese, or a “passenger of size” as the airlines like to refer to us, you do care. You care because it may mean the difference between an uncomfortable flight and a miserable one. So, on every flight I’ve taken for at least the last ten years, I did the research and literally prayed for under booked flights and a “wide” seat on an exit row. But, the ironic thing was that regardless of whether http://www.seatguru.com/ told me my seat was going to be 17, 18, or 19.5 inches wide, I was still going to be stuffed like a sausage into a space that was too small for me. That was my pre-operative reality.

This weekend, exactly six months after my surgery, and 110 lbs smaller, I am reminded of what it is to be “normal.” My family and I planned a vacation, which included a 1.5 hour flight from Philadelphia, PA to Raleigh, NC. In my mind I knew that this experience would be different, but I was so nervous. Even up until the last minute I wondered whether I should pack my seatbelt extender. When I walked down the jet way, I said a silent prayer. Then I walked comfortably to my window seat, sat down, put down my arm rest and buckled my seatbelt. COMFORTABLY! At least six inches to spare!!! Amazing.

When I was on the other side of this experience, I tried to imagine a day like this. A day when I could just plan a vacation and be limited only by my finances and not by my weight. I think whenever we’re in the midst of any challenge, we try to envision a day when we’re beyond it. Trust me, what you hope for pales in comparison to the reality. If I had known how liberating this moment would feel, I would have acted with greater haste. I suppose, in a nutshell, what I’m saying is that… I would have CHOSEN TO LIVE. I encourage you to do the same.

CHOOSE TO LIVE!