On The Eve Of Our Divorce. . . . .

In twelve short days, I'll no longer be your wife.  Yes, you've left our home many days ago. . . nearly a year's worth of days, actually, but still.  In twelve days, my life will be different.  I will no longer be able to say that I'm "your wife".  There will be no question, during conversation, as to how to qualify you.  You will be my EX-husband and I your EX-wife.  What does that even mean?  Does it mean that we stop loving each other?  Does it mean that we never DID love each other?  Does it mean that all of the caring, loving, hurting, crying, sharing, building, creating, worrying, fretting, celebrating, enjoying didn't matter?  Does it mean that we wasted twenty two years of our lives with the "wrong person"?  How is one supposed to be able to survive such a drastic change?  How will I breathe deeply ever again?  How will I ever relax again?  How will I ever allow someone in again?

In twelve short days, everything changes.  I will be single.  SINGLE.  Legally. . . S.I.N.G.L.E.  I will be solitary.  Individual.  Separate.  Cleaved.  Changed.

In twelve short days, my identity changes.  Forever.  I don't even know how to start to find "me".  I've spent twenty two years loving you.  I spent twenty two years focusing on you.  In all of that time, I gave little to no thought to "me".  Now, suddenly the world expects me to just "figure it out" and "do what I want to do".  But, how can that happen when I've spent so much time NOT thinking of myself?  How do you just wake up one day and start to be selfish?  How am I supposed to just stop thinking about you?  Worrying about you?  Loving you?  Caring about you?  Who am I without YOU?  My identity has been so closely tied to you that I don't really have one OUTSIDE of you or the idea of "you and I".

In twelve short days, I'll be free to love again.  You'll be free to do the same.  But, how?  When?  Where?  Will I EVER be open again?  How will I take the broken pieces of my tiny, fragile heart and glue them back together enough to even allow anyone else to look at it, much less, touch it or hold it?  Love ME???  No way.  That's terrifying!  What worse?  Knowing that someone else will love you.  Hold you.  Comfort you.  I don't want you to be unhappy or unloved, so these are things that I truly wish for you but I'd be lying if I said that a little part of me didn't die every time I think of someone else being "your wife".

So, in twelve short days, our divorce will be final.  It appears, however, that nothing else is quite so clear cut for me.  The papers have all been filed.  What's done is done.  There's no stopping it all know.  But, tell that to my heart.  Tell it to stop aching.  Tell my eyes to stop crying.  Tell my brain to stop thinking of the millions of things I did wrong; that drove you away.  Tell my body to stop longing for your touch.  Or my ears from wanting to hear you say "I love you", just one more time.

Take a deep breath, in twelve short days, it'll be just another day in Perfect. . . . .

The Myth of the "Amicable Divorce"

Amicable:

ADJECTIVE

1. (of relations between people) having a spirit of friendliness; without serious disagreement or rancor:

   "there will be an amicable settlement of the dispute"

   synonyms: friendly · good-natured · cordial · easy · easygoing
   
   

   Let me be clear here . . .there is NO SUCH THING AS AN AMICABLE DIVORCE!  You can not be "friendly, good-natured, or easy going" when you're going through the most painful thing a couple can go through.  Now, don't get me wrong, you CAN exhibit these behaviors.  You CAN show each other kindness and not scream at each other.  You can not blame each other for the broken state of your marriage, but underneath it all, you ARE crumbling.  You're destroyed.  Even if you saw it coming.  I ask you, if you SEE that bus that's coming down the road to hit you, does it not still flatten your ass once it strikes you?  Yeah, I thought so.  

   Being aware that you're going to be "flattened" does NOTHING to prevent the pain. . .the "shock and awe" that comes with filing some stupid paperwork.  One wouldn't expect such a "mundane sounding" event to create such chaos in one's life, yet it does.  It's beyond chaos.  Beyond pain.  No, this. . .THIS is something entirely different that I don't think there's a word for yet.  Total destruction, doesn't even do it justice.  

   My husband and I are "amicable".  I hate that fucking word.  Yet, we are; on the surface, quite amicable.  We've been amicable our entire marriage.  Not fighting.  Not even once, in twenty years of being together.  Yeah, I know, I know. . .you think I'm totally bullshitting you, yet, I'm not!  We "polited" ourselves straight into divorce.  We never once raised our voices.  We never once spoke out of turn to each other.  Yet, here we are.  The "amicable" divorce.  

   People "praise us" for how well we're handling it all.  Let me also be clear here. . . .I'M NOT HANDLING THIS WELL AT ALL!!!  I'm falling apart.  I'm lonely.  I'm heart broken.  I'm angry.  I'm FAR from friendly, good-natured, cordial or easy going!  Most especially to myself.  I'm beating the ever loving SHIT out of myself.  Questioning all of the things I didn't do.  Why DIDN'T I?  Torturing myself for all of things I DID do, just incorrectly.  Why didn't I do that better?  What's wrong with me?  No. . .there's nothing amicable about how I feel.  So, when people tell me how "well we're handling all this", I can't tell if I want to laugh or cry more.  If I'm "proud of us" or if I think we're just fooling ourselves and everyone else, too. 

   
   

   As much as I WISH there really was an "amicable divorce" I KNOW that there's not.  There cannot be.  No matter how much you KNOW you don't belong together or you're better off apart or you didn't mesh or you didn't have anything in common or you "lost that loving feeling" a long time ago, it's just not amicable.  How could it be?  You're ending something.  You're killing something.  "It', the marriage is an entity, in and of itself.  It was this living, breathing thing that you had around you every single day.  It might not seem that way, especially at "the end", but let me tell you it's there.  It's alive.  That is, until you kill it.  Until you smother the life right out of it. . .it's alive.  It exists.  It's real.  It matters.  The pain involved in the "death of what could of been" is so immense, it drowns you.  It's the huge waves that pound you down and the undertow that pulls you under until your lungs fill with burning salt water and you gasp and you struggle and you fight and you try to swim to the surface, yet the surface never comes.  Somehow you just get pulled deeper and deeper and it becomes darker and darker and then. . . .POOF. . . .it's just done.  Dead and gone.  Just like that.  With the ink of a pen.  What's amicable in THAT?   What's "friendly" or "easy going" there?  

   
   

   I will survive.  I will, somehow, get "washed up on the shore" on some strange island where, I'll live alone.  Well, not "alone alone", I'll have my wonderful children to look after.  Those two amazing human beings that we created on "our island". . .the island of our marriage.  These two people who also got dragged down and spit out onto a new land mass.  The two people whom carry my heart with them, as they travel around this big new place, called "divorce land".  They will give me the strength to pull myself up and brush off the sand and salt and untangle the sea weed that's wrapped around my neck.  I will see in them the love and support that I've given to them, so freely over the years, paid back to me in my moment of desperation and need.  I will return the favor, freely, in the hopes that they won't hate either one of us for making this "one decision" that forever changed the course of all of our lives.  You know the one. . . .that "amicable divorce". . . . . .

   Take a deep breath, it's just another day in "Perfect". . . . .

What It's REALLY Like to Be a "Perfectionist". . . . .

I get teased.  A lot.  Yes, I'm an adult.  Yes, I can handle it.  Yes, it's all of part of life . . . .everyone's life.  But, sometimes, just every now and again mind you, I wish that people would know. . .could know what it's already like inside my head.  The hostile environment I live in every single day.  All self inflicted. . . .the suffering.  The damage dealt.  The pain.  The constant nagging.  All coming from inside my own body . . . . .is relentless!

I get teased because I "clean my house too much".  People throw around the words "OCD" and "anal" like they're just words.  First of, OCD is a real condition that has little to nothing to do with my need for my home to be spotless every second of the day.  Do I have a "touch of it" in the fact that I'm COMPULSIVE about crumbs or dust or vacuum lines in my carpet?  Sure.  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  Who knows?  Better, who cares?  But, if you could just hear what I tell myself about those crumbs.  That dust.  Those "stupid lines" in my carpet.  If you really knew the disgust I feel about myself when those things are present or lacking, you might not be so quick to "make fun" of me.  You might give me some grace and treat me a bit more tenderly if you understood that I simply cannot allow this space, this refuge, this "sanctuary" to be anything less than perfect because I feel that it is such a reflection on who I am.  What I am.  At my essence.  I'm a failure if it's not "perfect".  I'm less than.  I'm a loser.  I'm lazy.  I'm "not pulling my weight".  I'm pathetic.  I mean, who can't keep their fucking house clean?  I feel dirty on the inside so maybe. . .just MAYBE if I can keep the space I live in spotless I'll feel a little bit less damaged.  Survivors of sexual abuse generally feel dirty.  Broken.  Guilty.  We feel like WE did something wrong or that something MUST have been wrong with us, because otherwise, it wouldn't have happened, right?

I get teased because I "count every calorie and I work out every single day".  People simply can't understand why, after "all these years" of maintaining my weight loss, I still feel compelled to be "so hard on myself".  I mean, come on, "Why can't you just come and hang out and have some drinks and eat some food and have fun?"  Oh, if it were just that simple.  If you could hear the tapes that are playing in my head.  Over and over and over again.  If you knew the shame I feel from eating a cookie or skipping leg day, you'd understand.  If you could be inside my body when I'm starving and craving a chocolate cake and I KNOW that I can't eat it. . . or anything else for that matter.  If you knew that words I used to describe myself. . .to myself about even WANTING a damn chocolate cake, you might just sit back and think "Wow, I'm glad I'm not her!"  Or you might think, "Wow, she's really fucked up?"  Who knows?  If you knew how painful it is to log every bite of food that I put into my mouth and workout every single day and still gain 15 pounds over the last year and half and how I simply can't give anymore in a workout or eat any less or beat myself up anymore about it, you might back off a little bit with the "teasing".  If you knew how badly I want to give up each and every day and either gain all my weight back or go the opposite way and go back to bingeing and purging "just to get there again" you might think twice about "pushing me" even harder.  If you saw what I see when I look into the mirror, you might understand.  Understand what it's like to see a fat cow staring back at you and KNOWING that there's just not one damn thing I can do to change it.  Fix it.  Make it alright.  I've given it everything I have and it's still not enough.  I've still failed.  I'm still a loser (or a gainer, depending on how you look at it).  I'm still pathetic.  Oh, those tapes, they just circle around and around in my head.  Playing on and on and on until there's nothing else I can even hear over the volume of them.  Eat less.  Move more.  It's that simple.  Until, it's not.

I get teased because I'm too sensitive and take everything to heart.  People tell me to just "let it go, blow them off, why do you care what they think anyway"?  Believe me, I WISH that I could.  I wish that I didn't care.  I wish that I didn't feel. so. much.  I wish that my tender heart would just "toughen up" already.  I wish that I could just walk away and not look back.  Look back at all the failure.  All the loss.  All the pain.  I wish that I could just "move forward" and make a vow that, "from this day forward I solemnly swear to not give two shits what you think about me".  But, come on.  I can't lie to myself.  I could maybe lie to you (although, those of you who know me, know that even THAT'S a stretch. . .my "lying ability" is not one I've developed very well over the years) but one can NEVER lie to themselves.  I know that I'll still feel the pin pricks of pain when I'm verbally attacked.  When someone is disrespectful to me or my family.  I will still hurt when I'm misunderstood which, by the way, seems to happen to me a disproportionately large amount of times.  I'll still feel confused when someone assumed the worst in me, when I'm giving them the best.  It'll never occur to me that you're lying to me, so I'm made to look foolish often.

See, here's the rub. . . .in all of this, I'm simply trying to be perfect.  I want to be.  I need to be.  I don't know any other way TO be.  In some futile attempt to be "good enough" to deserve your love, I've lost all sense of my self.  I just know perfectionism.  I only know this way.  I can only feel like I've given it my all, if I've truly given it my ALL.  If I'm left exhausted at the end of every day and if I feel tortured, beat up, hurt and empty, then I KNOW I've done all I can.  If I leave no stone unturned, no corner undusted, no floor unattended to, no person felt neglected by me, I worked out until I want to cry or vomit or both, I didn't eat that chocolate cake and ate less than I really wanted, I do more than I did yesterday and will do more tomorrow than today, then I might be able to sleep tonight.  For you see, my "being perfect" isn't really a choice for me. . . .it's a way of life.  Hell, it IS my life.  So, maybe, just perhaps, if you know someone like me, who knows, maybe you ARE like me, maybe, you could take a step back and really realize what it's REALLY like to be a perfectionist is-----you never really ARE.  It's never enough.  It's painful and long and strenuous and tedious and it's all for really damn good reasons but in the end, I'm always going to fall short.

So, maybe the lesson in all of this ranting it just this . . . . . .

Take a deep breath, it's just another day in Perfect!!!!

I Know That You're Afraid. . . . .

I know that you're afraid of me. . . . I know that you're afraid of me because I'm a woman or because I'm an atheist or because I was born in America.  I know that you're afraid of me because you don't know me.  I know that I am the "they" that "they" have warned you about.  I know that that fear has been bred into from the day that you were born into that family, that village, that world that tells you what to fear and what to welcome.  I know that you, the real YOU, that deep down part of all of us that is simply human, doesn't really want to fear me, is only curious about who and what I am.  I know that you're tired of being afraid.  I know that that fear, in and of itself, is what drains you, depletes you, hurts you.  I know that you don't know any other way to be, feel, exist.  I know that that fear can drive you.  I know that it can push you into feeling, doing, saying, being something that you're really not.  I know that you want to hurt someone.  I know that you want to hurt someone, anyone, to make that fear stop.  I also know that no matter how many people you hurt, that fear will only grow. . . .deepen. . . .SEEM MORE REAL to you.  It will grow inside of you, hidden.  Like a cancer it will eat away at your soul.  If you feed it it WILL grow.  It will become you, take over your mind, your spirit, your thoughts until nothing else exists BUT that fear.  I know that you're afraid of me.  I know that what I represent, means the end of what you represent.  Or, at least, that's what "they've" told you.  I know that that fear has convinced you that, simply by my existing, I'm threatening your way of life.  I'm threatening your actual life.  I'm threatening your children's lives and their children's lives and so on and so on, until, you feel so justified in hurting me that there simply is no. other. way.  Yes, I know that you're afraid.

But, I suggest something radical to you. . . . .talk to me.  Learn my name.  Try hard to pronounce it properly.  Look into my eyes.  See me smile.  Listen to my breath.  Watch me love my children.  Listen to my struggles to provide a loving home for them.  Come to my place of work and watch me excel in my life.  My actual life.  Not the one that has been presented to you.  Not the one that "they've" told you I lead, but, my real "day in, day out" living life.  I know that you're afraid.  But, could you "take the risk" and try, just for a moment, to let the fear go?  Can you leave it at the door?  My door?  And walk into a life that looks, shockingly, similar to your own?  Listen to it.  Smell it.  Taste it.  Savor it.  Hell, maybe even ENJOY IT!

Yes, I know that you're afraid and that the world is telling me that I should be afraid, too. . . . but, today. . . . . .I AM NOT AFRAID!

Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!

I Forgive Myself. . . . .

I forgive myself or not being a size two, for many of these pounds came from cookies that were baked with love with my sweet daughters, making memories they'll carry with them for a lifetime.  Others, were a result of my needing comfort and seeking out something I felt I was lacking, in a bag of chips.  I now realize that my worth doesn't go up as my size goes down. 

I forgive myself for "wearing my heart on my sleeve" and for "being too sensitive", for I've learned that the people who say this are generally too insecure to be "open to pain" and close themselves off behind an armor of sarcasm, ridicule, lies and, worst of all, cruelty.  I now realize that my being open about my feelings of being hurt, has put too bright of a spot light on the fact that they weren't feeling anything at all.

I forgive myself for not gaining the love of my mother, for now that I'm a mother myself, I know that that kind of sacrifice, vulnerability, patience and compromise don't come easy and not everyone is well equipped to offer those things with an open heart.  I know that I couldn't have done anything differently and that children are never meant to mend what's broken in an adult.

I forgive myself for trusting you when everything inside of me screamed to run away, for now I've learned what it means to love someone in spite of themselves and to truly love someone unconditionally.  I know that I can see the "bigger picture" and know that not every lesson I take part in is, in fact meant for me.  Although it's been painful, I'm honored that I could be a witness to part of your journey.

I forgive myself for being a perfectionist, for I know that it stems from a of fear.  I'm afraid of not being good enough for you; not "earning" your love.  I'm afraid if I'm flawed you'll leave me to find someone who's not. . . . but, I'm learning that THAT person doesn't really exist and that I'm honestly afraid of a ghost, an invisible entity that I've created in my mind to scare me into a cycle of attempts followed by inevitable failure.  I realize that "perfect" is an illusion.

I forgive myself for failing, for it means that I tried something, I stuck my neck out, I made the attempt and I learned more from those "short comings" than I ever did from my successes.  I've learned that I can survive almost anything.  I learned that I'm a warrior.  I learned that I'm creative, curious, bright, caring, tenacious, brave, competent, persistent, ignorant, wise, scholarly and human!

Most of all, I forgive myself for not forgiving myself sooner, for I know that to do so would have been too painful for me, at the time.  I wore my judgment of myself like a sheet of armor.  I felt safe inside of it and it was the only place I could honestly call "home".  This new world I'm discovering on the other side of self forgiveness is foreign, uncharted and vast.  I'm not sure where to go from here. . . .when self loathing, self deprecation and deprivation have been my constant companions, I feel, almost, lonely without them, and definitely more vulnerable and even naked.  I know that I'll make "new companions" and I can't wait to greet them with my open heart and mind; to see where they take me. . .what paths we'll travel together.  I'm sure that new things will spring up that I'll have to learn to forgive myself for.  I can only hope that I can so more quickly this time and know that I'm beautifully broken and flawed----human. .  .just like millions of other humans I share this planet with.  I can't help but think what a different world we would live in, if everyone could just learn to forgive THEMSELVES!

Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!   

Letter To My "Baby Girl" on Her Thirteenth Birthday

Wow.  Here I sit at yet another crossroads in my life.  Here I sit watching you grow, evolve, change, blossom. . . .mature.  I must admit, I'm proud.  I'm joyful.  I'm sad. . . . .and I'm scared.  I'm afraid of what the future holds for you.  I'm fearful that you're going to lose that sweet, innocence that makes you so completely YOU!  I'm anxious about what the world would turn you into and what it will take away from you.  But, I'm excited, too.  Deeply, profoundly excited.

I'm excited to see you become the best you you can.  I'm so very grateful for the honor I've been given, in being allowed to mother you, nurture you, learn from you, hold your sweet, tiny hand and touch your golden, pure heart.  I want you to guard that heart.  Protect it from harm.  You, my darling, are a giver.  A natural healer.  A sweet, sweet, tender spirit in a world filled with hatred, rage and darkness.  You, my sweet daughter are all that is good and kind and LIGHT in the world.  You are.  I know that as life carries you forward you will use this "gift of light" in some wonderful way.  I know that you're going to "love on" something fiercely; whether that be animals or humans remains to be seen, but I KNOW, in my soul, that you're not complete unless you're sharing your light!  With that, though, please don't give your "light" away.  Don't just entrust it to "any-old-person".  Especially, when "love" is involved.  Make that person, EARN your love.  Make sure that their love is as pure, deep and honest as yours is.  I wish that there was some way that I could accompany you through every day of your life to "protect you" from harm.  Hurt.  Sorrow.  A way for me to stand vigil over your tender, fragile heart.  Alas, I cannot and you wouldn't be able to live a full life, if I did so. Knowing that I'll have to "turn you loose" into this cold hard world sooner than I'd like, breaks my heart.

But, you've got a strength in you, I've never had.  

You possess a fire that burns deep within your soul.  An inner core that keeps you level, grounded and whole.  I wish nothing more than for THIS gift to continue on in your daily life.  Stand up for what you know is right.  Never back down from a fight, when it's the RIGHT FIGHT!  Never stop standing up for those without a voice or for someone being bullied.  I'm often humbled by your internal fortitude and your ability to see the beauty and value in all things and your willingness to stand up for what you believe in.   Your strength is overwhelming to me at times!  I find that I'm learning FROM you, more than I could ever TEACH you.   Yours is a very old soul and I cherish the time I've gotten to be in your presence.  Stand tall and be proud of yourself!  But, know that I'm proud of you, too.

Your wisdom is self evident in every aspect of your life.  Your quiet thoughtfulness reminds me that, at times, silence IS GOLDEN!  Your shy way is both disarming and charming.  Knowing when to "shut up" and "walk away" is a gift that most adults don't have, let alone a thirteen year old!  I know that you'll do well as you grow and mature into the "who" you're going to be.  Don't let the world tell you that being 'quiet and shy' is a bad thing.  Don't ever stop being that sweet, quiet girl who you are today.
But, let's not "leave the nest" too soon.  I still have a few things I'd like to teach you.  Show you.  Instill into you.  I want you to know how much you're loved.  I would like you to know that this home will be YOUR home, for the rest of your life.  I want you to feel so profoundly safe here, that you never question whether or not to share a secret with me, or open your "closet" and let those skeletons fly.  I want you to realize. . . .THIS IS YOUR SOFT PLACE TO FALL!  I will never expect perfection out of you.  I will never punish you for "failing" when you've tried something new and it just "wasn't quite your thing".  I want you to know that, although, I might WANT to be with you every moment, I cannot.  I want you to know that you're going to be okay without me.  You're going to be MORE OKAY WITHOUT ME than I'll ever be without you!  You are, in fact, a large part of my heart --  outside of my body. . . .outside walking around, looking beautiful and inquisitive and fresh and exuberant; but a part of my heart, no less.  I need you to know that I'm doing my best.  Being your Mommy hasn't always been easy.  Life does not, in fact, come with an instruction booklet and I've made thousands of mistakes with you.  There have been times that I've been too hard on you.  Times when I was "too busy" to listen to you properly.  Please forgive me for failing you.  Please forgive my short comings.  My moments of exhaustion and frustration that have taken a toll on you.  Please forgive me for not hearing your sweet, timid voice amidst all the turmoil of the world and for not always being there for you when you needed me.  Please know that I've loved you since before I was even pregnant with you and that I dreamed of you before you born.  You were wanted and loved and cherished as a huge part of my life, before you WERE a huge part of my life.

So, we've embarked on the "last leg" of our journey towards adulthood.  We've started off for the "beginning of the end", as they say. . . . . but I hope that even as you walk your path towards being an adult, you realize that no matter what. . . . . .I'll always be your Mommy and I'll cherish the moments we've spent together -----  learning how to be a better Mommy and a better person.  A better human being.  If nothing else 'sticks with you', I want you to know this. . . . . .YOU. ARE. LOVED!!!!

As "my baby", I'm clinging to you more than is probably necessary (okay. . .probably more than is healthy!!) but know that it's out of a genuine spot inside my spirit that doesn't want to 'stop being your Mommy'.  I don't want to stop being the one that you look to for advice, for comfort, for support.  I don't want to let go of your sweet, tiny hand.  So, it's with much trepidation, fear, pride, honor, anxiety, humbleness, tenderness, strength and love that I will, some day, release you into this world.  To watch you become truly, completely, deeply, strongly. . . . .YOU!


Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!  

What My Weight Loss Has REALLY Taught Me. . . . .People SUCK!!!

I know, I know, it's been a really long time since I've posted anything.  Shame on me.  Really.  Truly.  I feel ashamed.  It isn't that I haven't had shit happen to me that was worth writing about; quite the contrary.  My entire life has changed.  Why, you may ask, has my entire life changed?  Because I've lost 85 lbs.  Yes, you read that right EIGHTY FIVE FUCKING POUNDS!!  Yay, right?  Rah-rah "Perfect Housewife"!  Good for me!  Yeah, yeah. . .blah, blah, fucking blah!

Is it an accomplishment?  Hell yes, it's an accomplishment.  Was it hard?  You bet your life it was hard.  Am I proud of myself?  Ummmm. . . .sometimes.  And sometimes, I feel lost.  I feel disappointed with people.  I feel scared.  Scared of gaining the weight back.  Scared of not losing anymore.  Scared of who I am now.  Scared of who I want to be now.   And, quite honestly, I'm fascinated by the differences in OTHER people, more than differences in myself.

For example, when I was "fat", (honestly, I was medically OBESE, yes that God forsaken UGLY, UGLY, HORRIBLE WORD that we all HATE and are terrified of. . .I was THAT word) I was invisible.  People didn't hold the door open for me.  People didn't ask me how I was when I walked into a store;  a grocery store, a big box store and certainly NOT a clothing store.  No, I got ignored.  Or worse, I got stared at.  As in, "Why in the world is SHE here?  She can't fit into ANYTHING we carry here?  Maybe she's buying a gift." type of stared at.  God forbid, when I went to a buffet type of restaurant.  I could almost hear the owner sighing and see the employees cringing.  "Oh boy, here comes a big one!" they'd think or worse, say, to each other as I walked by.  The funny thing is, when you're obese you WANT to be invisible.  You WANT to be the "un-seen".  You WANT to pretend that you're NOT where ever you ARE.  You are the girl who "holds everyone's purse" while they're trying on clothes that you couldn't possibly DREAM of fitting into.  And you're "perfectly okay" with that, right?  You're just as happy to sit there and comment on each and every "cute outfit" that ALL of your friends try on, right?  And you certainly don't want to go to the "fat lady store" (my mother's words there. . .she was always heavy and that's where she bought HER clothes).  I'd rather run over my own tongue with a bulldozer than go to the "fat lady story" with my "skinny friends'.  Yeah, being invisible is the BEST outcome an obese person could hope for, right?

Wrong!!!!

News flash folks. . .fat people have feelings, too.  I'd have loved for someone to open a door for me.  I'd have loved to be seen.  But, seen as a whole, beautiful, smart, dynamic, purposeful, intentional, loving, DESERVING person. . .not "a fat person".  I would have loved to feel welcomed into any clothing store . . . .other than the "fat lady store".  But, I wasn't.  I was invisible.  I was hurt.  I was lonely.  I was isolated.  I was ignored.  I was belittled.  I was treated like, not only a second class citizen, but worse, I was treated like a monster.  An anomaly.  A freak.  I was told by countless folks, unsolicited mind you, how I could "shed a few pounds" or how "I had such a pretty face".  The rest of that sentence was always an unspoken, "now if you could just do something about the REST of you", you know MY ENTIRE FUCKING BODY!!  People who were (allegedly) my friends would tell me things like, "Now, I don't think you're fat, but I know that you do, so why don't you try this new supplement?"  Really?  What. The. Fuck?  Is there a pill that I could give you to cure your bitchiness?  NO?  Wow. . .I should look into formulating that shit!  Wait. . .sorry, I got off track there.  At any rate, when you're fat, overweight, obese, you pick your word, you are treated badly.  At best, "differently".

So, what do I do?  I lose a shit load of weight.  I mean, I'm talking, like I've lost a "ten year old's entire body" amount of weight.  What do I expect?  I expect for folks to treat me differently.  After all, I AM different.  I realize that.  I'm not stupid.  But, I think, perhaps, I WAS naive.  See, it's been a "minute" since I've been thin(ner).  I was still holding on to that "baby weight" from back in the day.  Okay, okay, my babies are sixteen and (nearly) thirteen, but still. . .it WAS BABY WEIGHT Y'ALL!!!  Anyway, I haven't been this small since I was in my twenties.  I'm proud to say that I just celebrated my forty second birthday.  So, yeah. . .it's been a MINUTE!  However, I wasn't prepared for what actually happened to me.

Do folks open the door for me now?  Sure.  Most of them.  ALL men.  SOME women.  Hm?  Okay, I'll notice that and let it go, right?  Do folks greet me in the stores now?  Yes.  ALL men.  SOME women.  Okay. . . . .Do people stare at me when I eat now?  Ummm. . . .sometimes.  But it FEELS different now.  It feels less like judgement and somewhat more like, "Huh?  What DOES she eat?"  Subtle difference, but different it is.  Do I get attention paid to me when I enter a clothing store now?  You bet.  NOW, they want my money.  NOW, they can't wait to "dress me", shove shit on me and hope and pray that I buy their crap.  What?  A fat girl's money doesn't spend right for you or something?

Do my female friends treat me differently?  Ummm. . ..YEAH!  (Not all of you. . .those of you who know who you are, know who you are.  Wink, wink.  And, YES, I'm thankful for YOU!)  But, overall, EVERYONE treats me differently.  Not in a GOOD way, like I thought.  Like I had hoped.  Like I had planned on.  Do males treat me differently?  Can I get a huge, resounding, FUCK YES?!?!?  I'm so annoyed by this, I can't begin to describe it to you.  Men, that I've known for YEARS, YEARS AND YEARS in some cases, who didn't give me the time of day two years ago, are now falling all over themselves trying to get into my pants?  EXCUSE ME???  Did I suddenly lose my wedding vows and ring during my weight loss?  NO!  Did I suddenly become a whore, because I'm thinner?  NO!  Why on EARTH, do you think it's okay to ask me to sleep with you?  Are you kidding me, right now?  NO!!  I wish that I were!  It's no joke.  It's the truth.

Now, don't get me wrong, on some levels and with some folks, it's flattering and not "over the top" uncomfortable, that they find me attractive.  I mean, after all, isn't that WHY we all want to look our best?  Don't we WANT people to find us attractive?  Beautiful?  "HOT"?  I say, we do and for everyone who says "No, we don't!", don't fool yourself.  You, too, want to be found attractive.  It's our cultural "default setting".  I, too, have that default setting.  Although, it was long buried under all that FAT!  I, too, want to be seen as beautiful, desirable, attractive, fit, pretty and ATTRACTIVE.  (Which, by definition means. . .you'll ATTRACT people, attention, etc.)  So, yes, I see the irony there.  I see that I "got what I wanted".

But, I also lost friends.  I've also upset the delicate balance of my "universe".  I am no longer the designated "purse holder", token fat friend, girl with the "pretty face" who HAS to be funny and make jokes at her own expense, just to break the "fat tension" in the room!  I'm no longer the "trust worthy" friend who you can leave "your man" alone in a room with.  (Now THIS ONE really upsets me, because YES. I. AM!!  I would NEVER touch YOUR man, or anyone else's man!!)  I'm no longer the friend who you can complain about your weight to.  (Huh?)  I'm no longer the friend that you can invite over for dinner, because what I eat is "too weird, too low fat, too low calorie" to mess with.  I no longer remember what it feels like to BE fat, so I certainly can't commiserate with you about being overweight.  (Are you joking me, right now?)  And, I certainly must not have any more problems, because I'm thin now.  (Shut the front door.  Are you crazy?)

So. . .what did I learn about myself, the world and people in general over my weight loss journey?  I know that I'm not supposed to say this and that's it's not ONE HUNDRED PERCENT TRUE, but really. . . .I learned that PEOPLE SUCK!  I learned that, no matter what I weigh or don't weigh, people will find some reason to dislike, distrust, disrespect and distance themselves from me; from each other; from love.  Have I change because I lost weight?  Of course.  ON THE OUTSIDE!  But, my insides are the same.  I'm still sweet.  I'm still funny.  I'm still self deprecating.  I'm still insecure.  I'm still genuine.  I'm still honest.  I'm still YOUR FRIEND!  I'm still trustworthy.  I'm.  Still.  Me!!!  So, shame on YOU, too.  Shame on you for looking at fat people and thinking they're LESS worthy of love than you.  Shame on you for looking at a thin person and thinking they're LESS worthy of trust or kindess than you.  Until you've walked in my obese shoes, you won't know what THAT feels like.  Until, I walked in my "average weight" shoes, as a married woman in her forties, for the first time, I didn't know what THAT felt like.  Some days. . . .I wish that I could just walk.  Just walk my path, with my head held high and not worry, think or care what everyone else was thinking about me.  Until then. . . .


Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!