By Christine

On the morning of the hydrodensitometry test I awoke with a plan. First, tame the bikini area. (Seriously, this had been neglected since I was pregnant enough not to be able to see it anymore. Luckily my husband doesn’t care.) Second, contort my body into the three-sizes-too-small swimsuit. Third, try not to cry when I see my reflection.

Twenty minutes later I managed to wrestle my rolls into the suit. Before I looked in the mirror, I presented myself to my husband. “Hey,” he said, “You actually look pretty good.” I scoffed and stepped in front of the mirror. Huh. Actually, I really didn’t look that bad. The bright blue suit was tight enough that it kept my belly and hips in check, so from the front and side I looked presentable–if you didn’t gaze too long at my enormous thighs and gelatinous upper arms. A quick look at the back, however, revealed the escape plan my squeezed torso fat had chosen. It was bulging out over and under the racerback straps. From that angle I looked like a roll of cookie dough that had been tied up with string. I sighed. Oh well, at least I was working towards a healthier body and not lamenting my hugeness while sprawled out in front of the television eating Nutella out of the jar with a spoon. Because yeah, I have done that in the past.

Two hours later I was on my way to get tested. I felt ravenous. I was told not to eat or drink four hours before the test, as water and food in the system are read as fat. My baby usually wakes me up at 6AM, so my plan had been to eat breakfast and guzzle water before 7AM, putting me well under the four-hour mark. But that day my little girl had chosen to sleep in until 8AM. Which meant I slept in until 8AM. Normally this would be cause for throwing a parade, but that day it just meant I was well-rested and starving. The end of the test could not come soon enough.

The hydrodensitometry weighing center was located inside a small building on the campus of a Junior college. It looked like a gym with a built-in classroom. To my right I could see an aerobics class in session, one door down were people lifting weights, and straight ahead sat students listening to a lecture on calorie burning. To the left was a reception area, which I approached to check in. The lady performing the hydrodensitometry test was tall and fit–of course she was–but also very sweet. She helped keep my baby girl, who was strapped in her stroller for the duration, entertained and was very encouraging about the weight-loss plan I had worked out for myself. She led me to a curtained area and asked that I strip down to my suit. She then proceeded to measure the fat on the back of my arm, the top of my thigh and the side of my abdomen with a caliper. She repeated this three times and recorded all the numbers. Then she led me down a hall to a very publically-located scale. I nervously fingered my towel, which I’d been clutching tightly to cover myself from chest to knee. I looked around, noticed that nobody was really paying attention, took a deep breath, dropped the towel and stood on the scale. It read exactly what the Wii Fit had measured. Good to know it’s accurate.

Then the lady and I lifted the stroller and carried it up a short flight of stairs to a small, tiled room. In the middle of it was a plunge pool with what looked like a metal poolside chair submerged inside it, the four corners of which were attached to metal chains, which in turn were attached to a long metal arm hanging above the pool. It was essentially a very large scale. She directed me to climb inside the pool and sit in the chair. The water was wonderfully warm. The pool was so deep, I couldn’t touch the bottom. Suddenly, I felt a pang–I missed swimming so much. Except for a couple of days on my honeymoon, I haven’t swum in 16 years, all because I feel fat. That’s really pathetic and something I need to remedy.

I swam over to the chair and positioned myself above it. The lady told me to let all the air out of my lungs, then grab hold of the chair and sit in it with my whole head submerged. Any residual air should be expelled underwater. After a few seconds she would knock on the side of the metal pool and let me know to resurface. I took a deep breath, blew it out then went under, clutching the sides of the chair tightly, making sure I felt like I was sitting on it. I continued to push air out of my lungs. Then I heard the metal clangs of her knock and surfaced. We repeated this five times and the test was done.

Ten minutes later, after I’d dressed, she presented me with my results.

I am a little over 5′ 1″ and weigh 164 lbs, 34.8% of which is made up of fat. My lean body mass weighs 105 lbs. Anything over 31% is considered obese and I am off the chart. According to the lady’s numbers, a woman my age (31) should have a body fat percentage between 19 and 25. In order to drop to the lowest of the two, I would have to lose 39 lbs of fat. This is fantastic news to me. I always thought a woman my height should weigh between 105 and 115 lbs. Turns out I won’t ever be able to weigh that little without dying first. How awesome! So instead of needing to lose 50-60 lbs, I only need to lose 35-39 lbs. That sounds way less daunting. (Incidentally, the caliper test was only off by 1%. So I guess they can be pretty accurate if the person performing them knows what they’re doing.)

My first goal is to drop to 30%, then to 24%. The lady thinks I should be able to achieve the first in 13 weeks, the second in 26 weeks. I have never felt more motivated in my life. I recommend everyone have this done at least once in their life.

To find a hydrodensitometry weighing place near you, call your local universities or gyms, or check out Getdunked.com. (Thanks to AndreAnna for the link.) Go find out what you’re really made of!

This entry was posted on Friday, February 6th, 2009 at 2:39 pm and is filed under Blogs, Hippo in a Tutu. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.