I realize I may be projecting MY values and interpretations on someone else (they say pay attention to what disturbs/upsets you, for it can reveal much about your own mind, personality, values, etc.), but I still find this so sad. Plus, it’s not so much a question of whether or not the person can or can’t, will or won’t, participate in an activity — indeed, they may not want to; rather, it’s at least allowing yourself that OPTION. All too often, it seems to me that there are a lot of people whose options in life are (obviously) narrowed significantly by having a major weight problem, and yet what I often see is a sort of state of denial, an insistence that “I wouldn’t be interested in doing that, anyway.” I’m sorry, that just smacks of rationalization to me! How do you know you wouldn’t want to do it? When was the last time you experienced it? Have you ever done it? I think of how many people allow themselves to miss out on so much of what life offers, both the good and the bad, the fun and the embarrassing, the scary and the thrilling, just by virtue of keeping themselves in that safe, enveloped world, where the only thing that they get to look forward to is coming home from work (or taking a break from mom/wife tasks) to a box of cookies, maybe a reality show later on. Such a waste.
Anyway, we saw an example of this last night, New Year’s Eve, at the local ski resort. The place was hosting a late-night New Year’s Eve ski party, and my husband and I had decided this would be a fun and dynamic way to celebrate the new year (and it was!). Even though we don’t have children (by choice), we both get a kick out of comingling with families and other ski lovers at places like this. It’s by far NOT a swanky, glitzy “destination” resort; rather, just a nice, cozy ski facility, with about 10 chairlifts and 25 or so runs of various levels, and a large, bustling lodge containing numerous eating places — a deli, bakery counter, coffee shops, sandwich/hamburger stand, pub — ticket counters, ski school, the ski shop/rental facility, and a nice fireplace area to warm up and dry off in front of. Yes, it’s rather old (kind of the 70’s version of dark wood, “Alpine like” decor, including lower lighting and Tiffany lamps), but that’s part of its charm. It sort of has that “school field trip” feel to it, lots of noise and commotion and people (mostly skiers tromping around in their boots) coming and going constantly. If you’re used to the spa/pampering/state-of-the-art ski facilities of the western US, you probably wouldn’t like this place very much (and I’m not referring to the lack of vertical drop or the length of the runs here). But I wouldn’t have it any other way, although I certainly also love posh, upscale places as well. It’s comfy and has its own quaintness, and there’s no doubt the patrons are there for one primary reason: they love to ski, and they’re willing to “do” midwestern skiing even if their abilities/experience far exceed it.
Anyway, the weather conditions were not the best, though we still had a glorious time. But with a fairly heavy snow and wind, we probably spent as much time inside the building, drying our soggy ski duds front of the fireplace with a cup of coffee as we did on the slopes. This made for some good people watching, which is always part of the enjoyment of a day/evenings spent skiing.
But among the various families hunkering down at the cafeteria-type tables, most with trays of burgers and fries from the greasy spoon counter, one in particular caught our attention. Maybe it’s because it’s admittedly a more unusual sight at a ski area: an obese person. In this case, the woman probably weighed well over 300 lbs. at about my height (5’6″). My first thought was, wow, you don’t see someone skiing at that weight very often, but my husband pointed out that she was the only one in her group (which included what appeared to be her husband and a couple of young children, plus another couple) who was not wearing any ski equipment or even any winter-specific outerwear. Clearly not someone who was intending to be outside for any length of time, short of walking to and from the parking lot. We felt safe assuming this woman doesn’t ski, and is simply in charge of “base camp” at such outings.
And indeed, this saddened me. With the rest of the group chattering merrily about the evening’s adventures thus far — the blowing snow, the “perilous” trips down the slopes, goofy moments at the chairlifts….this woman was the outsider, the non-participant, the only one without anything to share or contribute, because she wasn’t there at all. She seemed content enough, pulling out the evening’s rations from her cooler (the group appeared to be picnicking in lieu of dining on the cafeteria offerings — I can’t blame them for this!), but being the only person in the general vicinity without any ski wear on, there was still an out-of-place look about her.
But before I could fully let that thought/observation materialize, I felt a new one take over. Did I mention her group appeared to be all of six people, herself included? So imagine our jaws dropping as we watched her pull out the following assortment: a huge tupperware container of homemade chocolate chip cookies (about 4-5 dozen), a loaf of bread, a large tupperware container of what looked like a creamy, spinach-type salad, a couple of pounds of sliced sausage, a gallon-size ziplock of yellow cheese cubes, two rolls of different crackers, a tub of butter, a tub of cream cheese, a large bag of Funions (I’ll withhold any crack comment about not wanting to share THAT car on the trip home), a large container of brownies, and a few other containers whose contents were unclear (plus at some point we left before we could stick around to deciper anything else).
Setting aside the fact that a full-course meal is hardly a good idea when you’re expecting to return to the slopes shortly thereafter, it was astounding to watch such a disproportionately huge meal being presented to such a small group of people. More disturbingly, the woman seemed rather smug about it, clearly proud to be the one to impress her throng (which I have to admit basically ignored her, definitely no oohs or ahhhs to the gastronomic truckload being hoisted out of the cooler) with her ability to go way over-the-top in preparing the family’s ski picnic.
Understand, I’m NOT casting judgment here — no one takes pride in her ability to pack a delicious and nourishing brown-bag lunch for her husband and/or other loved ones as much as I do, only recounting what I observed.
I couldn’t help but draw some conclusions from what I was observing. From where we sat, this looked like a person who had given up on ever being part of the “normal” human race. Her body was so overweight she had to do that awful waddle when she walked, though clearly she took pride in her appearance as she was nicely dressed and well-groomed. Her whole focus seemed to be on “wowing” her family with the amazing feast she was regaling them with, while her family had not so much as a half a word to her, so consumed were they on giddily discussing the night’s skiing activities. She circled around the table, attending to their every need (interestingly we never saw her eat anything), and I couldn’t help but note that her obesity had completely obliterated any sense of femininity or attractiveness to her appearance. Her face was pretty, her personality appeared bubbly, but it was hard to imagine anyone, husband or otherwise, could view her as sexy. I’ve seen plenty of women who are overweight “by the charts” yet who maintain enough of a curvy, feminine look, a stylish appearance and awe-inspiring self confidence to convey a much sexier look than any skinny, expressionless 19-year-old model. But this woman would have lost even that ability a long time ago, probably at least 50 pounds ago.
It just made me feel so sad. Again, I realize that not everyone is a skier or even interested in trying it, but there’s a world of difference between having the ability, the option, to do something like that and saying “no thank you,” vs. removing yourself from even having that choice. And what I saw was a glaring example of the latter. I just wanted to somehow put my arms around this woman, tell her she’s worth being loving to herself, taking care of herself, nurturing her body and her mental well-being, that she’s worth more than to just relegate herself to the role of always-the-spectator-never-the-participant. But for all I know, she’s oblivious to such a notion.
I may not be able to help that woman, who may in fact feel insulted at the notion of something thinking she needs “help.” But this sure does reinforce my own desire to never put myself in that position. I want to try it all (or as much as possible), and let the decision to continue or not lie with me and not some other factor.
Recovering Part-time Bulimic 