*or, Big Girls Do Cry
(I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep this post up, so if you visit me again and it’s not here it’s because it was really painful to write and maybe I’m not ready to lay it all out.)
So. J has been getting e-mails about our 20th High School Reunion. For some reason unknown to me, he is very excited about it. I am dreading it with a dread like no other. Don’t want to go. Nope, not at all. Not even a little. There are a couple of reasons for my lack of enthusiasm. I hated high school. I had a small group of close friends and that was it. J, on the other hand, had TONS of friends. I still wonder sometimes how we ever ended up together. He was very popular and outgoing, I was not. The only reason I got invited to a lot of places is because I was his girlfriend. There were a couple of occasions where even that wasn’t enough for an invite. So, while he can’t wait to see old friends, I’m dreading seeing these people who were popular as kids and heading right back into that mode of feeling left out. I know, I know, we’re adults now and it’ll be different, but you and I both know it never is.
Here we get into part of the problem (for me): I have a GREAT life. I have a wonderful husband and children, a job I really love, and a nice house and car. I’m happy. But…. I’m fat. There, I said it. When I go to that damn reunion, those people aren’t going to say anything about me except “did you see how fat Patti got”. Not, “it’s great that in this age of divorce they’re still together”, or “wow, we’re all getting older”, just, “damn, she got fat!” Say all you want otherwise, you all know it’s true, especially those of you who know the people who are going to be at the reunion. That’s part of the reason I didn’t like them in high school – they were petty and mean.
I was at Wal-Mart this weekend, and I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a while. Nice, nice lady, I really like her and her family. She looked at me, looked at my stomach, and said “are you pregnant?” and when I said no, she asked if I was sick. When I answered no, she looked at me and back at my stomach and asked again if I was pregnant. When I said no, AGAIN, she asked if I was okay. WTF??? Apparently I look much worse than I thought. So:
Today I start WW again. I’m so frustrated and depressed about it in general that I’m going into it knowing that it’s not gonna work but I want to prove myself wrong. Is this a bad time to start? YES. Thanksgiving, Blue’s homecoming BBQ, Christmas, Egg Nog, the Office Holiday Party. But I really want this to work. Drug addicts, rapists, hookers, they can all walk down the street and hide what they are if they want to, but when you’re fat, you’re fat 24/7, you can’t get hide it. And people judge you, 24/7. And even though I have all those great things going for me, in my own mind, all it boils down to is that I’m fat. And I don’t want to be that anymore.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
*or, Big Girls Do Cry