CONFIDENTIAL TO MY ASIAN READERS: Tomorrow begins the year of the horse, so I would like to take this opportunity to wish you a Happy and Prosperous New Year: "Gung Hay Fat Choy," "Kung Hsi Fa Tsai," "Kung Ho Hsin Hsi," "Hsin Nien Kuai Le," "San Ni Fei Lo" and "Chuc Mung Nam Moi."
DEAR ABBY: I am 11 years old. My family keeps telling me I am gaunt and too thin. I think I am fat -– way fat. From my point of view, I have an enormous stomach, big legs, and I weigh and eat too much. My parents' view is, "Where'd she go?"
Doctors tell me to eat more, but I won't eat junk food, and even "normal food" to me is fattening. People tell me I am underweight, but I know I'm gaining. I want to look like all my thin friends. People say I'm even thinner, but to me I am bulging out. I'm afraid boys won't like me. My father said I should tell you that I'm 4 feet 11 inches tall and I weigh 80 pounds. What's the truth? -– ROXIE IN BILOXI
DEAR ROXIE: At 4 feet 11 inches and 80 pounds you are NOT overweight. You have become so preoccupied with being thin that you no longer have a realistic view of yourself.
You say you want to be thin like your friends and are afraid boys won't like you if you're not. Well, I have news for you –- every man I have ever talked to about "beauty" has told me he doesn't like girls who are too thin. Quote: "I like a little 'meat' distributed over those bones." Get the message?
There is a difference between being fat and being fit. Fitness is healthy, glowing and attractive. Thinness is not fitness, nor is it necessarily healthy or attractive. If you diet to the point of being skinny, you can make yourself sick. There is a name for it: anorexia.
Your parents are looking out for your best interests, and so are your doctors. Please listen to them. If you don't, the results could be life-threatening. A person does not have to be "the thinnest" in order to be accepted or considered attractive. And THAT'S the truth.
DEAR ABBY: The letters about the doctors who had themselves paged repeatedly to advertise themselves reminded me of my student days when I worked part time in a health clinic. Every morning, I would hear a "Dr. Duncan" being asked to report to the lobby. I had never heard of a doctor by that name working there.
I finally found out that "Dr. Duncan" was clinic "code" to let everyone who had time to take a break know that the snack truck had arrived at the back entrance. That explained why coffee and doughnuts would suddenly appear all over the building after the message. Duncan ... doughnuts ... get it? –- A VERMONT M.D.
DEAR M.D.: Got it! That letter struck a chord with another healer. Read one:
DEAR ABBY: I am a retired physician from a town in northeastern Ohio. When I was a lad, I delivered groceries to an elderly physician's family. He lived and practiced until he was in advanced age, probably 80 or so. (But that's another story.)
Legend had it when he first came to town as a young man, to try to drum up business, he'd occasionally get his horse and buggy out of the barn and, after a hurried run through the main streets, return home. People thought that he was very busy for a young doctor, and it made a great impression. -– OHIO DOCTOR
DEAR OHIO DOCTOR: Whether or not it worked, it was certainly worth a shot. Through the years –- from using ponies to pagers -– doctors have found ways to make names for themselves.
What teens need to know about sex, drugs, AIDS and getting along with peers and parents is in "What Every Teen Should Know." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds) to: Dear Abby -- Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)
DEAR ABBY: Why is it that men can be so insensitive toward recent widows? Some of them hit on us within a month of the death of our loved one, while we're still in shock.
Who are these culprits? Co-workers whom I thought were good friends and my church council president, to name a few. Once, while I was having coffee in a restaurant with a friend, a male acquaintance stopped by our table and -- as calmly as ordering a hamburger -- told me his wife was in the hospital and he "needed some lovin'"!
Don't these clods have any idea how demeaning and vulgar their behavior is?
A longtime friend of mine just lost her husband. She didn't believe me when I told her about my experience. Abby, within a month, she had her own stories to tell! What's astonishing is that 90 percent of these men are married.
When my husband was alive, I had great respect for men. For that, I credit my husband, who was an honorable and loving family man. Now, however, I'm whistling a different tune. My beloved has been gone 10 years, and I'm much stronger than I was.
Please don't reveal my name or city; this is a small town, and the people I have mentioned would be recognized. Sign me ... NO MORE BLINDERS IN WISCONSIN
DEAR NO MORE BLINDERS: I'm sorry you won't allow me to reveal your name or location. The wives of these men would be very interested to know what their husbands are up to, and I'm sure it would result in some stimulating breakfast table conversation.
DEAR ABBY: My husband and I are young newlyweds. His job takes him out of town five days a week, so I'm pretty much a weekend wife only, and I hate it.
The real problem is his drinking. He didn't drink as much before we were married. Now I'm starting to believe he has a problem. When he drinks, he becomes rude and violent. Not toward me -- yet. He also gets into trouble during the week when he's away.
I want to stop this before it gets worse, but I don't know how to begin. -- A WEEKEND WIFE WHO NEEDS HELP FAST
DEAR WEEKEND WIFE: YOU can't stop your husband from drinking -- only he can make that decision. Unless he is willing to admit he has a problem and to do something about it, the situation will get worse.
What you CAN do is contact Al-Anon. It provides information and support to family and friends of alcoholics. Call 1-888-4-AL-ANON (1-888-425-2666). The Web site is www.al-anon.org.
DEAR ABBY: This is for the "shopping grandma," the "cooking grandma," and grandparents everywhere.
Let me tell you what I do -- I am a PLAYING grandma. I get down on the floor and play with my grandkids. I ask, "What do you want me to be?" Then I am the dog that barks, the tiny baby who cries, the mermaid who dives into the sea in search of treasures, or the prince cutting through the thicket with his huge sword to find Sleeping Beauty (stretched out on the sofa).
When my 5-year-old granddaughter was asked why she likes to play with her grandma, her answer was, "Because she makes the dolls talk." -- GRANDMA SHIRLEY IN METAIRIE, LA.
DEAR GRANDMA SHIRLEY: Your granddaughter is a lucky little girl. You are the grandparent every child deserves and dreams about.
Good advice for everyone -- teens to seniors -- is in "The Anger in All of Us and How to Deal With It." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby, Anger Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
Girl Who Bites Her Nails Gets Something to Chew On
DEAR ABBY: I'm a 10-year-old girl who lives in McHenry, Ill. I read your column as often as I can. I think you're the best. Now I need your help.
I bite my nails all the time, but mostly when I'm nervous. I hate it. My nails are so short you can't even see them. I have tried to stop but I just can't.
One of the rules in my tae kwon do class is no nail-biting, but I still do it at home.
What should I do? Please help me. -- NERVOUS NAIL-CHEWER
DEAR NERVOUS NAIL-CHEWER: As a former nail-biter, I offer several suggestions. First, you and your mother should visit the pharmacy and ask if it sells a harmless but bitter product you can put on your fingers, so that putting them into your mouth will be less appealing. Second, instead of chewing your nails, substitute crunchy vegetables like carrot sticks, celery sticks and radishes.
Third, put light-colored polish on your nails. It will protect them, and within weeks, as they begin to grow, they will look better and better. (Perhaps your mother would reward you with a professional manicure at the end of the month if you can refrain from biting.) And last, if you can't completely kick the habit, choose ONE nail that you can chew while sparing the rest.
DEAR ABBY: For 16 years, I experienced complex partial seizures, a mild version of grand mal seizure. I would have episodes where I "wasn't there" for a few seconds. My husband and others would observe me staring with watery eyes and pursing my lips as though tasting something bitter, but no one realized what was going on.
The seizures occurred infrequently and lasted approximately 15 seconds. When someone would ask me if something was wrong, I would deny it. I was afraid and ashamed to admit that perhaps I needed help.
In 1999, I experienced a partial seizure while driving on a highway. My mother was in the car just ahead of me and I rammed her. Then my car crossed the opposing lane of traffic and flew airborne into a power pole. By some miracle, no one was seriously injured.
Because I had no memory of the accident, my doctor suspected I had had a seizure of some kind. An EEG confirmed the doctor's suspicions. I was put on medication and haven't had a seizure since.
My unwillingness before the accident to admit there might be a problem nearly cost me my life, and worse -- someone else's.
Please urge your readers who may be "blanking out" for a few seconds to see their doctor immediately for an evaluation. Seizure episodes can usually be controlled with medication, erasing the potential for a traffic fatality. -- SEIZURE-FREE NOW IN FLORIDA
DEAR SEIZURE-FREE: You are very lucky to have survived such a traumatic event unscathed. I have said for years that the first and most important step in resolving a problem is admitting you have one -- and that applies to physical, emotional, legal and spiritual issues.
Abby shares more than 100 of her favorite recipes in two booklets: "Abby's Favorite Recipes" and "More Favorite Recipes by Dear Abby." Send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $10 (U.S. funds)
to: Dear Abby -- Cookbooklet Set, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in price.)