Away with the desk overflow...

Whoever designed desks for the classroom under the premise that"one size fits all" is either a jerk or a sadist.

We've all sat in those bland-colored desks, those little units with the chair connected to the writing surface by a thick metal bar. The kinds where it's impossible to create any more room between one's gut and the manila edge of the desk. Sure, they may be purchased all at the same size, but whoever does the ordering fails to take the seating requirements of the larger bodied folks in mind.

At UConn, when I was at my largest, I faced two problems with the desks every time I went to class (about once a week... just kidding, Mom!). First is the lefty factor. Schools always order about 24 righty desks for a classroom, and if they're feeling charitable, they'll stick one lefty desk in the seat closest to the door. Yes, it is really just a minor inconvenience, but it's still nice to be able to rest your writing arm on a hard surface instead of having to lean across your body.

But then there's the size factor, or the second problem, and by far the most embarrassing and annoying. It was humiliating to have to sit in those desks with the edge of my belly pushing firmly against the edge. From 45 minutes to an hour and a half, I'd be forced to sit in that uncomfortable position, sometimes adjusting my stomach so that I wasn't so obviously overflowing. And if you're single and want to impress the ladies, forget it. Once they've seen you get stuck in a desk, it really doesn't matter how charming or funny you are.

A few months ago, I found myself back in the classroom for the first time since UConn, this time as a part-time grad student at ECSU. Sure enough, I walked into the room only to find those same dreaded desks... and, as an extra kick in the rear, not a lefty model anywhere to be found. My first class took place just as I started this little weight loss adventure of mine, when I wasn't as heavy as I was as an undergraduate, but still big enough to feel ashamed of stuffing myself into a desk that looked like a prop in a Chris Farley movie. During my introduction, I felt like saying, "Hi, I'm Matt. I'm a journalist, I like the Red Sox, and does anyone have any WD-40?"

Yet weight loss brings signs of success that differ from just the numbers on the scale. Clothes fit better and eventually become too big (check.). Loved ones marvel at the smallest changes, even if you don't feel all that lighter (check.). Stairs and long walks through parking lots no longer feel like an endurance challenge (check.).

And yes, even an undersized desk starts to become more forgiving.

Week by week, I've gone back to class, and with each lecture, I'm finding myself feeling more comfortable in my seat. It's no longer necessary for me to push my belly down. There's room to breathe, and getting out of the desk in the middle of the class no longer feels like setting myself up for ridicule.

I'm getting thinner, both in terms of the scale and the desk, and it's a wonderful feeling. So Eastern, I've done my part to make myself more comfortable in your classroom furniture. Now how about you do your part and put a few more lefty desks into the rooms?

In other news, Thursday marks the first meeting in the last two weeks. That means it will have been 14 days since my last official weigh-in, during which I've been served (or purchased) about five turkey dinners. Have I overeaten? Not grossly. It's hard not to, after all, around Thanksgiving. Have I set myself off course? I'm confident that come 5:30 p.m. on Thursday, I'll still feel good about myself.