So my whole department, minus two of us, has weight loss goals for this year. And they decided to have a contest - people choose their respective goals, and whoever loses the largest percentage of their goal gets a prize.
Today everyone gave me their information, and I made a spreadsheet, and the end of March they give me their end weight. There are no weekly weigh-ins, and everyone is on their honor. It's really just for people to encourage each other.
Now, I'm one of the two not currently trying to lose weight. And so I was designated as "the enforcer" - me!
I said, "I'm not an enforcer! I'm an enabler!"
Which is true. So they said I don't really have to enforce.
I was chosen as the keeper of the numbers because I'm gentler than the Chinese woman who is the head of finance. She's a numbers person, so she'd be the appropriate choice. However, in her culture, they talk about weight and size very frankly - too frankly for Americans.
For example, she patted my thigh one day and said "Wow! You really carry all your weight there!"
Why, yes, yes, I do. Thank you for noticing.
"And your butt!"
Yes. There too.
"You know, I know some really good exercises for those areas if it bothers you. But only if that fat bothers you."
This kind of talk can make a person run screaming.
And so I think people had visions of her saying "Wow! You really weigh that much! And it's all in your stomach! It's because you eat too much!" Or something like that.
She's a lovely person. It really is cultural.
But the thing is, I'm not a numbers person. I am famously not a numbers person. I like words! Words and language! And art and color! But numbers, numbers are not my friends.
I once responded to a question asked by my old boyfriend (the very precise, German, engineer-turned-finance-guy who is ALL ABOUT numbers), when he asked if I wanted something mixed 50-50, by saying, "No, more like 60-30."
"What? I don't want it too strong!"
He told this story for months.
And then the other night someone asked how long a friend and I had known each other, and we said forever. They asked how long, and he said "Seven years. And if you count that in dog years..."
I interrupted, "Well, then it would only be one!"
Pause. Eyebrows raised.
"Oh. Or 42. Or 49!"
The nice thing about this is, I'm the one in my group of friends who gets asked to write the Evites for parties, and I'm never the one who has to do the math when the bill comes.
People are probably afraid it'll be split 60-30. Or 30-30-50.