Looks like it’s time for another confession. This is one that I could confess nearly every day for my entire life, or at least every week… I recently watched a colleague of mine give a presentation. She is actually a very good friend. We text frequently and get together for lunches, and we hang out as couples with our husbands. So, she’s more than a colleague. But in this instance, I was watching her online giving a presentation.
My first thought? Wow, she really HAS filled out over this pandemic. Her cheeks are definitely chubbier, and that dress is pulling a little on her midsection…
Yep. Those were my horrible first thoughts. Not how beautiful she looked (she did), not how brilliant she was (she is), not how much work must have gone into what was a spectacular talk (a lot). My very first thoughts were judgments on her body.
I’m not even done with the awfulness.
And then, THEN, I felt smug. I felt a little, miserable, horrible smugness creep in. It actually made me feel better about myself to see that she’s gained some weight—what in all honesty is probably less than 5 pounds.
Why? Why any of this? Why do I scan bodies before anything else? Why did I notice the insignificant weight gain in a good friend when her own husband probably hasn’t? Why did it make me feel good—like her body has ANY BEARING WHATSOEVER on mine?
And then do you know what I did? I went to the pantry and ate a spoonful of that fucking frosting that’s been taunting me for days and days (see previous post about said fucking frosting).
Sigh.
Day 90.
I Quit: Giving up Bulimia 