Two Health Puzzles
February 4, 2010
Funny thing about obesity and smoking: people can’t hide obesity, whereas smoking may go unnoticed except by the smoker’s immediate companions. That’s why I chose smoking over eating back when I was eighteen.
Yesterday on the bus, for instance, I sat across from a woman who must have weighed at least 350 pounds. It was hard to take my eyes off her. Not only was she huge, but her slacks were tightly stretched over rolls of fat, and there was a worn place over one knee, so thin her skin showed through. Yet high above her legs, she wore an attractive purple and gold knit hat and a matching knit scarf draped gracefully about her shoulders. Her make-up gave a subtle and colorful glow to her face, and her right hand rested authoritatively on a burnished wooden cane. Had she not been overweight, had she instead been a heavy smoker, she would simply have looked attractive and well put together.
Was this woman distressed about her looks? Did she go on weight-loss diets from time to time? Did she read articles in magazines or on the internet, trying to figure out why she was so heavy and what she could do about it? Was she dismayed that her hips, knees, and ankles were increasingly painful, making it harder and harder to get around? Was she afraid of diabetes, heart attacks, high blood pressure?
Before I quit smoking, I used to avoid reading about the terrible risks I was taking as I lit up every 15 or 20 minutes; such risks just made me want to smoke more. On rare occasions when I pondered lung cancer, I imagined my lungs as a far-off, foreign country, nowhere near my chest and heart.
At last I stopped “trying to quit” and really QUIT. Why? There were two reasons. One: my dental hygienist pointed out that my gums had become gray and pitted. She promised that quitting smoking would make them pink and smooth again. Two: I used to love singing, in the shower, in the car, in synagogue. But I could no longer sing, and I believed (correctly!) that my voice would return when I stopped smoking.
Quitting was pure hell. The physical withdrawal was so awful it made me cry. Emotionally I felt I had lost my dearest friend and lover. And on the morning of the 20th day, I jumped into the car for my morning commute, delighted that I planned to stop for a pack of cigarettes on the way to work. I remember nothing from that ride. All I know is I arrived at work without cigarettes. And on day 31 everything began to get much better.
It took a Higher Power to end my smoking: the gums, the singing, getting past day 20—none of that was me alone. Sometimes there may be a spiritual hunger in unhealthy living and a spiritual component to health.





