Run, Fat Boy, Run

 In eighteen days time I'll reach the grand old age of 55. I'm quite looking forward to it. When my friend the young Master Spiegel and I are playing bingo there are some numbers we feel have quite a good ring to them, and I think 55 is just such a number. Rounded, symmetrical, and adding up to a perfect 10.

It seems that other people are also aware of my approaching age. These days it's remarkable where our personal data is stored and offers and e-mails based on my approaching birthday have now flooded my junk mailbox.

One such invitation delivered by hand by the arcane method of Mr Postie  was an invitation from the NHS to have a health check. Evidently I'm at that age when it's thought to be a good idea. The word that attracted me on the flyer was “free".

To avail myself of a health check I could visit one of several local pharmacies or my GP. Now given that our GPs practice has the organisational ability of a plate of jellied eels, several doctors whose English is suspect in the extreme, and an appointment system that is akin to the Riddle of the Sands, I thought my chances were probably much better by visiting a pharmacy.

So I rang the nearest one down in Sydenham and made an appointment for Friday morning. 

You go into a private cubicle where the pharmacist, a pleasant and charming young man, takes your blood pressure. Mine seemed a little high, which he attributed to the fact that I had probably walked from the car. He then takes a little blood from a finger to do a cholesterol test. He measures your height - officially I'm 6 foot 3, and he puts you on the scales. He then inputs all this information into a laptop to come up with some  “lifestyle advice"

Now there is a phrase to strike terror into the heart of any plain thinking sensible person. This "lifestyle advice" supposedly emanates from the NHS. I've no doubt it emanates from some consultant PR person employed by the NHS and who is paid much more than any nurse or doctor, to come up with some crazy graphics for the website and some, hopefully, informed wording.

The pharmacists read the results on his laptop and told me that I was……………………………  obese! 

Not overweight, but obese.

I laughed.

 I was rather amazed at his ability to read it out with a straight face. I looked down at myself and even though I was wearing a shirt, a cardigan and a jacket to protect myself from the winter chill (now there is good winter Lifestyle advice -  always use layers!) I had difficulty in aligning the body image that I saw with the word obese.

In the dictionary the word obese is defined as o·bese/ōˈbēs/ -  grossly fat or overweight.

I'd be the first to admit that I'm overweight. I don't have a problem with that. I know it. I'm aware of it. My wardrobe accommodates it.

I'm not obese.

I know what obese is. In fact I spent 2 days walking around Rotherham at the beginning of this week seeing many examples of it. It is fat! Grossly overweight!

I said to the pharmacist that I thought the misuse of the word was a great shame. I was happy to admit to being overweight but the thought that people might start calling me obese is not a nice one. Portly, stout, plump……. certainly………… but obese?

His following words of lifestyle advice  were to fall like barren seed on stony ground. Evidently all my health problems will be solved if I give up smoking,  even though no questions were asked about how many cigarettes I smoked a day. Most people I know who given up smoking  have had weight problems afterwards.

Evidently  my “obesity" was calculated using something called my body mass index or BMI. On doing a little research on this, I find that evidently the likes of Matthew Pinsent and Arnold Schwarzenegger were evidently also obese according to this calculation. It would seem like I'm in good company.

This is lifestyle advice calculated by the same government gurus who decided to give fruit and vegetable vouchers to young mothers who have since been found exchanging them for cigarettes.

I'm not stupid. If I'm overweight then I need to lose some weight and perhaps a month of healthy eating will not do me any harm. According to the BMI targets if I lose 2 stone, I'll be “overweight" . If I lose 4 stone I'll just be into my correct weight zone… supposedly! I'll also be out of most of my clothes which won't fit, and probably out of a lot of work too.

If we're to accept advice, then it has to be framed in terms that we can understand. It has to work from the premise that not all of us are thick. It has to be part of a dialogue. No questions were asked about my eating habits, my lifestyle, my working hours. I was just told I was obese. 

Mercifully I don't have a problem ignoring people.