“It Won’t Come Off . . .!”

“Why won’t it come off,” she exclaimed in a desultory tone. “Why?” 

“What are you referring to?” I asked, fully aware of what she was alluding to. 

“This,” she said, moving her finger from her midsection down to her hips. “Why won’t it come off?” 

“Fat is like a comfortable bed.” 


“Easy to get into, but very difficult to get out of.” 

“I have no trouble getting out of bed,” she retorted. “I just wish this fat would go away.” 

“Let me put it another way. Fat is easy to put on, but after it has taken-up residence on your body, you will have to move heaven and earth to get it off.” 

My colleague looked at me dejectedly. This was not the first time we had this particular conversation. I explained to her before that fat stored on the body was similar to a comfortable bed, and she scoffed then as she was doing now. No one wants excess body fat, but few are willing to do what it takes for its removal. 

I had outlined a plan to help her get into shape, but she couldn’t be bother doing exercises. She wanted a quick fix. I told her that there was no magic elixir to get rid of her excessive body fat, but she decided to pursue that path anyway. 

Inordinate amounts of money were thrown at every quick way of shedding body fat, with all resulting in abject failure. So, it came as no surprise when she came back to see me. I knew talking to her about dieting would avail nothing. The last time I mentioned it, she claimed that diets were too restrictive. In fact, I recalled her being so vehement to the idea that she bellowed, no way in hell she was giving up her comfort foods. 

“Gail,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You want to shed body fat?” 

“Yes, Captain obvious.” 

“I see we are in a surly mood today.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Perhaps, you’re right. Why not stay the way you are?” 


“Keep your comfort foods. They seem to make you happy. Just the mere thought of eradicating them, changes your countenance to a most dispirited expression. I’d rather see you fat and jolly.” 

“What a horrible thing to say?” 

“No denigration was intended, I assure you. I merely enjoy your company more when your cheerful, and the over indulgence of unhealthy foods seem to produce that effect. Why would I want you to be a sourpuss because you have been deprived of victuals severely lacking in nutrition?” 

“Oh my god. So, you think I’m fat.” 

“It is not what I think that matters, but how you feel. If you like the way you look, and see no reason to change, who am I to tell you to?” 

“But I came to you for help.” 

“No, you came to me for sympathy. Unfortunately, I cannot give you what you seek.” 

“What can you do for me then?”