Woody Cavenaugh

I was in the grocery store last night and like most times you go into the store you see a cross section of humanity, the haves, the have nots, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Last night I saw something I thankfully don't see all that often.

Before I reveal what I saw, I feel it necessary for you to understand me. Without that context, my reactions are at best meaningless, at worst just plane crazy. Though I am actual size when you see me, yes morbidly obese, but actual size. You see my dimensions as they truly exist, but in my own mind, I seem much bigger to me. In my mind, I am the bull in the china shop. If you have ever managed to even catch me in one of those little gift shops with all the fragile glass figurines, you would have noticed that my hands were in my pockets, my elbows pulled tightly to my side. I move in slow motion and I want nothing more than to be outside in the wide and safe outdoors. I avoid fragile things, (I decorate my house in wood and steel), I avoid babies, and children under fencing age except under special circumstances. For instance, Jake Quigley, gets the occasional fencing lesson from me. I won't throw him over my shoulder but I will teach him the skills he is going to need as he gets older, as I have a duty to do so.

In the store was a young woman who might have been beautiful once inflated. She was an "instant hotty" just add water (or in this case 30 pounds of fat might do). I wasn't judging, I wasn't assuming she had an eating disorder. There are people out there who can eat most mortals under the table and never gain a pound. She may have been one of these, she may have even had a medical condition that kept her from carrying bodyweight. But I also never went down the same isle as her. I'm actual sized but I seem much bigger to me, and I'm pushing a shopping cart. So I went out of my way not to get within harms distance of her.

This all worked out fine until it was time to check out. Most registers were open, and instinctively I headed for the shortest line. As it would happen once I got there, she was in front of me. At the moment I realized I had chosen a bad line, she looked up and registered my presence. If I moved now, she might take it as an insult, and that isn't my intention either. So I put my cart between her and myself and I didn't attempt to put any of my food on the belt until all of her food was scanned and she moved to the check writing area.

It was here I realized I had an opportunity to truly know her. No matter who you are, or how you try to hide who you are with cloths, makeup, and fancy ring tones on fancy cellphones, the checkout of a grocery store reveals your true naked self. Now I would know. Is it medical? Is it high metabolism? Is it an eating disorder?

She had "lite" wine coolers, fat free ice cream, uber healthy snack cookies, a diet coke, a fashion magazine, and baby food. I am not a doctor, but I paid attention in my health classes. A woman with so little body fat wouldn't even be able to menstruate, let alone carry a child to term. Plus I saw the nutrition label on one of the jars. Baby food is fortified with vitamins and minerals, is low fat, and pretty low calorie.

She had fat free junk food, baby food, and a fashion magazine. I rest my case, she had an eating disorder. Heck, the fashion magazine alone was enough to get a circumstantial conviction on, the other stuff was the smoking gun. Case closed.

I have always tried to lay bare my soul, not pull any punches, and guarantee that I would never hold public office. So in keeping with these facts I am willing to share with you the contents of my own shopping cart. A jar of horse radish, a bottle of ketchup, a box of dryer sheets, 2 bags of coffee, a roasted chicken, a half gallon of skimmed milk, a quart of low fat low calorie ice cream, and an apple pie.

Now you know me.