Sunday, December 28, 2014

Are You Saying I'm Fat?

This evening as I nibbled on a slice of pizza (I only had one, because pizza just hasn't been tasting very good lately) and was contemplating a comment one of my readers posted about me potentially having PCOS, my grandparents arrived to say hi to the girls and berate me . . . yes, I wrote that on purpose though I doubt the initial intention of their visit was to do so.

You see, my grandpa is a man (big surprise, right?) and as most men do (even the most well intending) sometimes my grandpa says things with good intentions in his mind but they come out sounding like a horrible insult and a deep blow to the ego.

Tonight my grandpa looked me over in my paisley pajama bottoms and mismatched too large nightgown/shirt thing and made a mental assessment . . . then proceeded to speak his assessment out loud.

"What did you have for dinner?"

"Pizza!" The girls exclaimed.

And without asking if I too had pizza he looks at me with a heavily disapproving expression and says, "What happened to the primal diet?"

Not wanting to stick my foot in my mouth or appear more stupid (or fatter) than I already did I just shrugged.

"New years is right around the corner and your Christmas spaghetti dinner wasn't exactly on my primal menu."

He kinda rolled his eyes and glanced at the show the girls were watching on the TV and the invisible light bulb above his head was so bright I was nearly blinded.

"When are you going to start dancing again?" He asked implying my Zumba DVDs.

"When I lose another 15lbs so I don't kill myself," I replied half sarcastically and half serious as I imagined the one time when I was at a lower weight and nearly threw myself through the wall.

"Oh," he grumbled, displeased with my lack of enthusiasm. "How do you plan to lose any weight if you don't dance?"

Really Papa? You had to go there? - I did not say this but I was thinking it and if looks could have killed . . .

Instead I replied, "Because it isn't exercise that causes weight loss it is the eating and if I exercise and eat crap I am basically neutralizing my efforts."

"Oh," he grumbled again AND THANKFULLY didn't bring it up again.

But as he went out in the backyard to get a trash bag from the shed to help with Christmas trash mountain in my house, I caught a glimpse of myself in my full length mirror. And even though I conveniently keep n arm chair piled with extra blankets in front of it, I was not spared the 7 month pregnant looking belly, the very round expanse of my backside and the second and almost third chin glaring back at me. No, I have not been kind to myself this holiday season. Not even a little.

But I didn't need him to point it out to me.

Hell, I look at myself in the mirror every day.

I know what I have done to myself.

As I posted last night, I not only SEE IT but I FEEL IT more than sufficiently and am actually quite looking forward to January 1st.

And of course now I have added incentive. Not only to FEEL BETTER and to LOOK BETTER but to never have my grandpa look at me again like he did tonight . . . with pity and remorse and a helplessness that only I can take away.

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