Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
In Conference
Fame was making me fat.
That was the unexpected and unwelcome realization to which I came as I stepped up to the lectern.
A year ago, I had been an obscure academic specializing in American religious history. My latest book had explored faith-based organizations ministering to both sides during the Civil War. The book had gotten some traction from roughly coinciding with the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg -- the seminary had been turned into a nonpartisan hospital -- and the release of the movie Lincoln.
Then Oprah had liked it.
And I began to get so many speaking invitations that my department chairman suggested that I was about due for a year's sabbatical.
Most of the invitations were for conferences, gatherings, retreats -- groups of academic or religious professionals coming together for two to four days for keynote speakers and small-group sessions.
The conference at which I was about to speak was my 20th in just eight months. It turned out that the conference circuit provided much better food than the academic circuit. This particular four-day event was a gathering for chaplains. My message about compassion transcending ideology was catching on.
This conference, a national gathering, was being held at a Lutheran conference center in western Virginia. In the main conference room, on a raised platform, sat the simple wooden lectern, its open construction neatly framing my burgeoning belly.
The night before, I had finished off two platefuls of ham, corn, sweet potatoes, and rolls with a fat slice of pecan pie. This morning, oatmeal, eggs, bacon, and four biscuits.
Par for the conference circuit course, and the reason my midsection was now protruding over my 36-inch-waist khakis. Conference center staff were typically catering to adults who had paid a couple of hundred dollars for modest-motel bedrooms, and they expected good meals, and plenty of food. Not to mention the fellowship events every evening, with cheese, fruit, and sweet desserts. That was when the organizers weren't taking me out to dinner and picking up the tab. Then there was traveling to and from these events, which meant meals on the road or at airports, and my newly busy schedule relegating exercise to a low priority.
My tablet computer rested on the lectern, but all I could think about was my paunch -- the newly acquired conference-circuit belly swelling over my waistband. And the unwelcome truth that, at 10:30 a.m., my stomach was grumbling, despite the metric ton of bacon and biscuits I had fed it.
Somehow I made it through my keynote address -- habit, maybe -- and the questions, then followed the group to the dining hall. A walk after lunch, I promised myself. Burn off this belly.
I was reminded how hungry I was when I joined the line going down the table. Fettucini, chicken, wilted spinach, rolls and butter, fresh salad.
As those at my table chatted about sightseeing, I methodically put away two heaping platefuls of pasta, two rolls, a salad drenched in dressing, and a slice of leftover pecan pie.
Oof. I was stuffed stupid by the time I hauled myself to my feet, the button of my khakis creaking. I wandered down to the dorm, kicked off my shoes, and fumbled open my trousers. Ah, that was better. I sank onto the bed, leaned back against the pillows, and groaned, cradling my aching and swollen belly. Gorged with what felt like a pound of pasta, my bloated torso resembled a dangerously overloaded water balloon, ready to pop any second. I gave my glutted gut a tentative poke. I was so full I was sloshing.
I snorted as my head jerked back. I had dozed off -- I glanced at my watch -- an hour ago. And in 15 minutes I was supposed to be leading a small-group session.
And so it went. By the time the fall conference circuit wound down, the holiday shopping season had begun, and I was being sent on a tour of appearances, readings, and signings for the paperback edition.
I took advantage of the completely accidental free week in my calendar to pick up some new khakis with a 38-inch waist. The two dozen conferences, gatherings, and retreats I'd keynoted at in the last 10 months had packed 25 pounds on my standard-issue frame, giving me an unmistakable gut.
I managed to pare off a whole three pounds before the book tour took me to Columbus and an appearance at my undergraduate college's bookstore. A Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving, with the college going on Turkey Break the next day: I figured no one would show up, and anyone who did wouldn't recognize the supersize me.
Wrong.
For the sake of literary license, I am making the movie "Lincoln," which came out in December 2012, coincide with the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg in July 2013. I've also kept Oprah on the air a little longer.
