Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I have worked hard to stop hating my body. I have stopped beating myself up for all the failed diets, for the fact that it's hard to find scrub pants that fit, and for not being stereotypically attractive. I've managed to shed the guilt about not dieting, about eating what tastes good, and about taking pleasure in cooking and eating. I've even managed to call myself fat. In public. And meant it, not loathingly, but just as a descriptor. I was doing pretty well.
And then two things happened in fairly quick succession. One was a coworker posting on his Facebook while on vacation "(Coworker) is perplexed...since when did chronic over eating become a handicap and qualify someone for a scooter and a fastpass to the font of the line?" That little gem made me see red. But it also made me wonder - what judgements is he making about me and my choices?
And then today, a totally different coworker was lamenting that she went to Chipotle and ate a whole burrito! Just as I was about to say "Yeah, aren't they delicious?", another coworker chimed in "Yeah, but you don't do it every day. As if eating an entire Chipotle burrito every day would somehow kick her into a category reserved for serial killers and puppy kickers.
Suddenly I'm ashamed again. I find myself thinking about Weight Watchers. Never mind that I was perpetually hungry, obsessing about food and what I did and didn't eat. Never mind that my yo yo diets have wreaked havoc on my metabolism. Never mind that my husband loves me for exactly who I am right now, not what I think I might be if I miraculously shed a bunch of weight and looked "normal", whatever the fuck that is. I keep hearing my ex-boyfriend - "If I met you now I wouldn't date you."
So what's a woman to do? Me, I'm reading more Shapely Prose. I've begun re-reading Rethinking Thin. And I'm trying to be gentle with myself. Who knows - unlike dieting, maybe this will actually work....