I was invited to a dinner thing my boyfriend, L’s, mother was throwing. So I head over after work. I’m the first one there, so when the next guest arrives, I go to help L control the dogs and open the door.
What’s the first thing L’s mom’s friend, K, says to me? “Have you lost weight?”
Seriously? My weight is that important to you? That it’s the first thing you notice and feel the need to comment on? The first thing you can think of to say to me? My weight?
But whatever. It gets better.
For some reason L and I were not immediately socializing with everyone. So when we walk into the kitchen, what are L’s mom and K talking about? Weight loss.
There are soooooo many things in the world to be talking about, and you’re talking about weight loss in front of me? No one even tried to change the subject, either. They just kept blabbing away about what has worked for this person or that person. Oh, and this worked for L’s mom, A. Because everything’s so fuckin easy peasy for A. Just do this and this and don’t do this and you’re good.
My mom tried to tell me to let it go. That it didn’t mean anything. Well, it fuckin meant something to me. It hurt. A lot. There’s so much more to people than their weight, but that’s all they care about. They don’t even know half the shit I go through in my head every day. How impossible it is to deny my super-hunger and cravings, especially on top of everything else I deal with.
And y’know what? I treat A’s son like fuckin gold. Because I want to and he deserves it. That should be all that anyone cares about.