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Socialism, here we come! Or do we?

By Karen Norling
web posted October 4, 2010

"Can we skip that?" I smiled at the triage nurse who'd just told me to "step on the scale."

"Dr. Taylor requires all of her patients to be weighed now," she held firm.

"That doesn't sound like Dr. Taylor to me," I sat there, bewildered. "She never made a big deal about it before."

"Well, that's what she wants," the nurse persisted.  "You can close your eyes, if you like.  I won't tell you what the number is."

Suddenly, I relinquished the battle, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to be weighed--for the first time in more than two decades.  I'm sure the only reason I did so was because I knew that I'd lost several pounds over the last six weeks in the midst of my latest attack of Meniere's disease (an inner-ear disorder that makes me feel as if I'm going to throw up—nearly every waking moment--for two to three months at a time).  In fact, that's why I was seeing Dr. Taylor that day--to tell her that I was having a horrible time trying to eat and to ask her if she could prescribe something that would minimize my nausea.

If you're wondering why I'm so fearful of being weighed, it all started when I became anorexic, twenty-some years ago.  I stepped on the scale in the doctor's office, as I was instructed to--thinking nothing of it, actually.  Until the nurse told me how much I weighed.  

"How could I be such a cow?" I silently chided myself, my heart pounding madly in my chest. "The nurse must think I pig-out from morning to night!  I'm a total failure. I've got lose more weight." 

From that day forward--except for the day I let my doctor weigh me at my lowest point (78 lbs.)--I neither weighed myself, nor let anyone else weigh me because I knew I'd think I weighed too much, and I'd have to go through that same emotional tailspin all over again. 

What I did, instead, was restrict my calories to an insanely-low level and let the fit of my clothes tell me how much I was losing.  In truth, I came very close to dying.  But then I got help.  Long story short: though my body recovered more than two decades ago, my mind still thinks like an anorexic.  And I'm still afraid to weigh myself or be weighed by anyone else.  So now you know.

Driving home from Dr. Taylor's office after my appointment, I couldn't convince myself that she was suddenly requiring all her patients to be weighed.  Something just didn't seem right about it.  So later that day, I decided to "Google" the key words: "government" and "body weight."  What I found, though hardly surprising, was something that deeply angered and unsettled me.  You see, the government is now forcing our doctors not only to calculate and record our Body-Mass Indexes[1], but to release our numbers to the busybody bureaucrats Barack Hussein Obama so expeditiously appointed after his inauguration. (Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.)

It's all part of the so-called "stimulus" bill he signed into law last year.  Yes, I said "stimulus" bill.  (If you can figure out what in tarnation a person's BMI has to do with Barry's relentless efforts to annihilate "stimulate" the economy, please enlighten me.  For I haven't the slightest clue.)

What I do have a clue about is why he—via his like-minded lackeys--is so hell-bent to obtain our BMIs.  Think about it.  He's doubtlessly looking for a reason to: 1) justify the implementation of a "fat tax," and 2) deny health-care to those he deems "unfit."  (He's already found a way to deny the elderly health-care.  You know, the:  "You've lived a good life; have you considered euthanasia?" thing.)

Well, on behalf of all American women—not just those who've suffered eating disorders—I am standing up to Barack and his buds and telling them:  "Y'all can 'stick it.'  I'm not going to give you even more control over my life than you already have.  When the time comes that I need medical care again (provided medical care still exists), I will wholeheartedly refuse to be weighed--i.e., wholeheartedly refuse to let any of my doctors record and release to you information about my body that I, myself, have trouble dealing with.  I have had enough."

Have you had enough, my "fairer-sex" compatriots?  Are you ready to fight for the few freedoms we have left?  Are you ready to go to the polls this November and vote for the men and women who love our country's (dwindling) liberty and independence as much as our Founding Fathers did?   I certainly hope so.  Because if you're not, we're headed straight for the Gulags, one seemingly-harmless encroachment at a time. ESR

Footnotes:

[1] The government's definition of BMI: "Body-Mass Index . . . is a number calculated from a person's weight and height.  BMI provides a reliable[*] indicator of body fatness for most people and is used to screen for weight categories that might lead to health problems" http://www.cdc.gov/healthyweight/assessing/bmi.

[*] A quote from Keith Devlin's article, titled, The Top Ten Reasons Why The BMI Is Bogus: "A high BMI does not mean an individual is even overweight, let alone obese.  It could mean the person is fit and healthy, with very little fat" http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106268439.

© 2010 Karen Norling.

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