My boyfriend’s mother hates me. And we’ve only been dating less than three months. They had a fight this morning. She started going off about me. Probably about my weight. And how I’m probably encouraging him to gain weight. ‘Cause that’s what all fat people do, right?
I’m sorry if my weight offends you, Mrs. A, but it’s really none of your business. Neither is your 28-year-old son’s weight. At least, not when it’s just a little extra tummy weight.
I’ve struggled with food all my life. It’s not as easy-peasy for me as it was for you. Everyone’s different. Yes, my antidepressants have something to do with my problems. But y’know what? Without those, I’d have killed myself by now. By accident. I’d rather be fat than dead by my own hand. I dunno, those are my priorities. Maybe yours aren’t the same.
I’ve shown her nothing but respect, despite what I think of her. And I’ll continue to show her that. I’m writing this so that I don’t strangle her the next time I see her and she tries to start something. Which she probably will.