Welcome back to Mustard Seed Botanicals. Michael Edgar Myers is a guest today.
The Two Become One Flesh, or Paging Dr. Five-Oh
By, Michael Edgar Myers
The aches and pains had become too much. The knees. The back. The ankles. A foot. The orthopedist didn’t help. Nor the stretching. Nor the chiropractor. Finally, she capitulated and went for her physical. Upon return, her look was more pained than before.
“What’d he say?” asked The Husband.
“Five oh,” replied The Mrs., replicating her doctor’s accent.
“Five oh?” The Husband’s question had also been hers to the doctor.
“Five OH,” she repeated, repeating The Doctor.
She thickened his accent, raised her voice, spoke slower and mouthed the words -- the way Americans do when speaking to someone whose native tongue isn’t English…as if this slow-motion over articulation will overcome the accent barrier. Except the doctor wasn’t a native American, and The Mrs. is, if North Carolina is still part of the U.S.
“FIFTY! FIVE-OHHHHH! Lose fifty pounds, you will be better.”
End of consultation. End of diagnosis. Beginning of journey.
Except that the journey did not begin right then. In fact, several years passed between that conversation and any notable results. Not that there weren’t attempts.
Suzanne, Atkins, Women Day, Weightwatchers, self, Weightwatchers again, all became steps on the journey, each with a similar path: loss, regain; loss, addition; loss, addition, addition… Each cycle was motivated by the echoing words of Dr. Five-Oh, long-since retired, whose assessment underscored her lifelong battle of the bulge and undermined her confidence. With each additional size, each ache, she heard, the “Five-Oh” mantra in her head.
The thing is, it’s not that she was FAT. Not in the eyes of The Husband. Not as HE defined “fat.” True, they both were overweight…notably overweight from their wedding day. Who isn’t? And, they went there together. After all, isn’t that what the Scriptures say? “The two shall become one flesh?” On the other hand, the passage doesn’t say, “fleshy.” THAT they had become. Actually, THAT HE had become. The Husband had become fat in his own eyes, he noticed one day, and suddenly found himself in the same overweight, unattractive funk that he found so unattractive in The Mrs. No, it wasn’t that she was fat, or even overweight. It was the oppressiveness of the repeated lamenting about Dr. 5-0 that he found weighty to the point that he began looking at her through HER eyes. He had gone with her on each of the dieting expeditions because, well, it’s mutual submission. “Love the woman’s body as your own,” had been among their wedding verses. He had learned and did not mind being supportive. He occasionally found himself thinking, “Maybe she is fat. Maybe she has let herself go. Maybe we both have.” Though their marriage thrived, there remained the undercurrent of dismay. A sense of passivity and laissez-faire permeated their existence. Now, however, the treadmill he had bought at her request was becoming a metaphor for their lives. Only the metaphoric treadmill was more active than the physical one. It had been 22 years. There were now 500 channels they could search find nothing to watch while devouring the chips. The two shall become…
Sometimes it takes someone else to take you to where you have to go. In this case, it was The Husband’s doctor. During his physical, she didn’t like his cholesterol. Or his blood pressure. Both of those, she said, could be managed. But before she wrote prescriptions, she wanted to have something else check out. She didn’t like this heart murmur she heard. The cardiologist was next.
This idea did not set well with The Mrs. Each of her parents had passed the previous two years. The idea of her spouse having potentially life-threatening health issues was unnerving. She was too anxious to eat.
The Husband was less undone by the murmur than the number on the scale. It was the highest ever in his life; 20 pounds more than when they first went to Weightwatchers a decade earlier…which was eight pounds more than the magic number he had in his head that was his benchmark for defining himself as “fat.” And THAT number – a number he said he’d never reach – was at least 25 pounds more than wedding weigh-in. Suffice to say, he began empathizing with the dietary malaise of The Mrs. For, he had gained this weight when he, unbeknownst to her, re-upped on the Weightwatchers online program a year earlier while caretaking for her ailing father.
The cardiologist was surprisingly nonplussed about the murmur. “Probably something you were born with,” he said.
“Then why am I hearing it now?” the 60-year-old Husband queried.
“Oh, that. You could probably stand to lose some weight. You’d be surprised how much better you’d feel after 20 pounds.”
Recounting the diagnosis to The Mrs., The Cardiologist suddenly, surprisingly sounded like Dr. Five-Oh. Right down to the lilt.
“Wonder if they studied together?” The Husband mused.
The Mrs., however, had no sense of humor on this matter. Ever the fixer, she had one solution. Two words: Weightwatchers (okay, compounded).
This time, however, their journey would be different. They had learned since their first visit to Dr. Five-Oh. Time was shorter to pussyfoot around. Demons of youth, demons of technology, distractions of work had to be overcome from the beginning. The goal for this weightless attack could not be vanity – the reunion, or the party. It could not be a New Year’s resolution, for it was already three months into the year. It could not be shame; for all they knew Dr. Five-Oh was deceased and he should take his ghost with him. The goal for this weight loss attack was life. Physical healthiness and emotional, marital well-being. We started this Hefty Road together, they must cross it as one.
Their first step was simple, yet one they had not taken in all of their previous encounters. “Let’s commit to a time frame,” said The Mrs. “One year regardless.”
At year’s end, there were enumerable tangible benefits. However, the more notable benefits were intangible. The two became one in different ways: Their Weightwatchers meetings became weekly date nights. They boasted of each other’s progress whether or not the spouse was there. They discovered things about each other because of responses to statements of others that deepened their own communication intimacy. Their mutual accountability extended to inviting unchurched friends to their church events, church friends to the meetings, and, in at least one case, a one-on-one disciplining relationship. The Husband developed empathy for those who struggled with weight loss and rejected the idea that people had “let themselves go.” “Fat” left his vocabulary. Their daughter lauded her mother’s change on Facebook and in a birthday greeting which chronicled the transformation…a change so radical, The Mrs. did not recognize herself.
As for those tangible benefits? The Husband’s BP and cholesterol dropped with his waistline (three sizes). Those little aches and pains – the back, the foot, the knees that first sent The Mrs. to Dr. Five-Oh – they vanished. Collectively they shed 98 pounds. He had dropped 48. The Mrs.? You guessed it. 5-0. FIFTY. 5-Oh. And while losing those 50, she gained a new career. That of a marathon runner which is another story.
Thank you for sharing this inspirational journey.
The Two Become One Flesh, or Paging Dr. Five-Oh
By, Michael Edgar Myers
The aches and pains had become too much. The knees. The back. The ankles. A foot. The orthopedist didn’t help. Nor the stretching. Nor the chiropractor. Finally, she capitulated and went for her physical. Upon return, her look was more pained than before.
“What’d he say?” asked The Husband.
“Five oh,” replied The Mrs., replicating her doctor’s accent.
“Five oh?” The Husband’s question had also been hers to the doctor.
“Five OH,” she repeated, repeating The Doctor.
She thickened his accent, raised her voice, spoke slower and mouthed the words -- the way Americans do when speaking to someone whose native tongue isn’t English…as if this slow-motion over articulation will overcome the accent barrier. Except the doctor wasn’t a native American, and The Mrs. is, if North Carolina is still part of the U.S.
“FIFTY! FIVE-OHHHHH! Lose fifty pounds, you will be better.”
End of consultation. End of diagnosis. Beginning of journey.
Except that the journey did not begin right then. In fact, several years passed between that conversation and any notable results. Not that there weren’t attempts.
Suzanne, Atkins, Women Day, Weightwatchers, self, Weightwatchers again, all became steps on the journey, each with a similar path: loss, regain; loss, addition; loss, addition, addition… Each cycle was motivated by the echoing words of Dr. Five-Oh, long-since retired, whose assessment underscored her lifelong battle of the bulge and undermined her confidence. With each additional size, each ache, she heard, the “Five-Oh” mantra in her head.
The thing is, it’s not that she was FAT. Not in the eyes of The Husband. Not as HE defined “fat.” True, they both were overweight…notably overweight from their wedding day. Who isn’t? And, they went there together. After all, isn’t that what the Scriptures say? “The two shall become one flesh?” On the other hand, the passage doesn’t say, “fleshy.” THAT they had become. Actually, THAT HE had become. The Husband had become fat in his own eyes, he noticed one day, and suddenly found himself in the same overweight, unattractive funk that he found so unattractive in The Mrs. No, it wasn’t that she was fat, or even overweight. It was the oppressiveness of the repeated lamenting about Dr. 5-0 that he found weighty to the point that he began looking at her through HER eyes. He had gone with her on each of the dieting expeditions because, well, it’s mutual submission. “Love the woman’s body as your own,” had been among their wedding verses. He had learned and did not mind being supportive. He occasionally found himself thinking, “Maybe she is fat. Maybe she has let herself go. Maybe we both have.” Though their marriage thrived, there remained the undercurrent of dismay. A sense of passivity and laissez-faire permeated their existence. Now, however, the treadmill he had bought at her request was becoming a metaphor for their lives. Only the metaphoric treadmill was more active than the physical one. It had been 22 years. There were now 500 channels they could search find nothing to watch while devouring the chips. The two shall become…
Sometimes it takes someone else to take you to where you have to go. In this case, it was The Husband’s doctor. During his physical, she didn’t like his cholesterol. Or his blood pressure. Both of those, she said, could be managed. But before she wrote prescriptions, she wanted to have something else check out. She didn’t like this heart murmur she heard. The cardiologist was next.
This idea did not set well with The Mrs. Each of her parents had passed the previous two years. The idea of her spouse having potentially life-threatening health issues was unnerving. She was too anxious to eat.
The Husband was less undone by the murmur than the number on the scale. It was the highest ever in his life; 20 pounds more than when they first went to Weightwatchers a decade earlier…which was eight pounds more than the magic number he had in his head that was his benchmark for defining himself as “fat.” And THAT number – a number he said he’d never reach – was at least 25 pounds more than wedding weigh-in. Suffice to say, he began empathizing with the dietary malaise of The Mrs. For, he had gained this weight when he, unbeknownst to her, re-upped on the Weightwatchers online program a year earlier while caretaking for her ailing father.
The cardiologist was surprisingly nonplussed about the murmur. “Probably something you were born with,” he said.
“Then why am I hearing it now?” the 60-year-old Husband queried.
“Oh, that. You could probably stand to lose some weight. You’d be surprised how much better you’d feel after 20 pounds.”
Recounting the diagnosis to The Mrs., The Cardiologist suddenly, surprisingly sounded like Dr. Five-Oh. Right down to the lilt.
“Wonder if they studied together?” The Husband mused.
The Mrs., however, had no sense of humor on this matter. Ever the fixer, she had one solution. Two words: Weightwatchers (okay, compounded).
This time, however, their journey would be different. They had learned since their first visit to Dr. Five-Oh. Time was shorter to pussyfoot around. Demons of youth, demons of technology, distractions of work had to be overcome from the beginning. The goal for this weightless attack could not be vanity – the reunion, or the party. It could not be a New Year’s resolution, for it was already three months into the year. It could not be shame; for all they knew Dr. Five-Oh was deceased and he should take his ghost with him. The goal for this weight loss attack was life. Physical healthiness and emotional, marital well-being. We started this Hefty Road together, they must cross it as one.
Their first step was simple, yet one they had not taken in all of their previous encounters. “Let’s commit to a time frame,” said The Mrs. “One year regardless.”
- Having taken new vows, they began again on a road that The Mrs. dubbed, “The New Normal,” a path paved with guidelines for weight loss (whatever the program) and other challenges that cause a couple to stumble be they dietary, financial, child-rearing, or spiritual.
- Commit a to a timeline. This establishes collaborative accountability, especially when either party “doesn’t feel like it.”
- Plan the meals, including dining out. This minimizes the odds of snacking and, economically, reduces willy-nilly discretionary spending (e.g., fast food junkets).
- Control the portions. If you must “clean your plate,” plan on taking half home for lunch. One less meal to prep.
- Increase the water, fruits and vegetables. They’re not as repulsive as you thought as a kid, nor as status-laden as non-carnivores may imply; and more digestible for late-night snacking.
- Dispense with the scale. The weekly weigh-in was sufficient. You knew what you had done during the week, so if you’re up, adjust; if down, continue. Removing the daily scale removed the daily stress.
- Increase activity. The couch was for relaxing, not cultivating potatoes. The treadmill a launching pad, not a placeholder.
At year’s end, there were enumerable tangible benefits. However, the more notable benefits were intangible. The two became one in different ways: Their Weightwatchers meetings became weekly date nights. They boasted of each other’s progress whether or not the spouse was there. They discovered things about each other because of responses to statements of others that deepened their own communication intimacy. Their mutual accountability extended to inviting unchurched friends to their church events, church friends to the meetings, and, in at least one case, a one-on-one disciplining relationship. The Husband developed empathy for those who struggled with weight loss and rejected the idea that people had “let themselves go.” “Fat” left his vocabulary. Their daughter lauded her mother’s change on Facebook and in a birthday greeting which chronicled the transformation…a change so radical, The Mrs. did not recognize herself.
As for those tangible benefits? The Husband’s BP and cholesterol dropped with his waistline (three sizes). Those little aches and pains – the back, the foot, the knees that first sent The Mrs. to Dr. Five-Oh – they vanished. Collectively they shed 98 pounds. He had dropped 48. The Mrs.? You guessed it. 5-0. FIFTY. 5-Oh. And while losing those 50, she gained a new career. That of a marathon runner which is another story.
Thank you for sharing this inspirational journey.
Let's find out more about Michael Edgar Myers.
Michael is a Chicago-based actor, award winning director and playwright. His work has been featured in plays, feature films and commercials nationwide as a member of education comedy troupe Wavelength, and as an ensemble member of the radio program “Unshackled” produced by Pacific Garden Mission. He is also Pastor of Development & Training for Elk Grove Baptist Church in Elk Grove Village, Illinois.
EMAIL: [email protected]
Website: KIT Ministries - Home
Michael, thank you for guesting today.
We hope you all can stay for a bit to chat with Michael. Feel free to post your comments below.
Michael is a Chicago-based actor, award winning director and playwright. His work has been featured in plays, feature films and commercials nationwide as a member of education comedy troupe Wavelength, and as an ensemble member of the radio program “Unshackled” produced by Pacific Garden Mission. He is also Pastor of Development & Training for Elk Grove Baptist Church in Elk Grove Village, Illinois.
EMAIL: [email protected]
Website: KIT Ministries - Home
Michael, thank you for guesting today.
We hope you all can stay for a bit to chat with Michael. Feel free to post your comments below.