I spent the weekend with a couple of friends in Seattle, staying at Dan's house. Dan and his girlfriend, Kate, are some of the healthiest people I know. They are both beautiful, sexy people that workout regularly, eat a Paleo diet during the week, and enjoy whatever they want on the weekends. They live in a city condo that is absolutely gorgeous, travel extensively all year long, and both speak at least 3 languages. They are intimidating even for other skinny people, but I love them dearly and hanging around them! We met when we were all living overseas and have many common interests, and now I get to visit occasionally to catch up and relive old times.
This past weekend when I visited, we spent the evening bar-hopping with several of their friends. I always have to fight that "fat friend" status that I feel inside, and put a confident smile on my face when I go out with them. We came back exhausted, and I retired to bed pretty quickly, but Dan and his friends stayed up talking. I went in and out of sleep, but I could hear short pieces of their conversation that are seared into my memory. They were talking about my weight, how it's gotten worse, etc. I laid there in the bed wanting to cry...but I never really cry. Instead I just felt deeply out of place. Every person on this world struggles with something- a bad relationship with a family member, abuse, low self esteem, addiction, etc. etc. I have always hated how my "struggle" had to be so visible and available for conversation. My biggest flaw is also the first thing you see when you look at me. There's no hiding it, and let's face it- sometimes I just don't fit in with my surroundings. Hearing people talk about it when they thought I was fast asleep took me back to my time in high school when listening to the comments were a daily routine. This time, though, they weren't making fun of me, but they were just discussing my oh-so-visible handicap and sharing their mutual pity for me. Oh, how I hate pity! I wanted to curl up and disappear under the covers, going to sleep and not waking up until I had lost all of this weight. Laying there in bed, I vowed yet again to do something about it.
This past weekend when I visited, we spent the evening bar-hopping with several of their friends. I always have to fight that "fat friend" status that I feel inside, and put a confident smile on my face when I go out with them. We came back exhausted, and I retired to bed pretty quickly, but Dan and his friends stayed up talking. I went in and out of sleep, but I could hear short pieces of their conversation that are seared into my memory. They were talking about my weight, how it's gotten worse, etc. I laid there in the bed wanting to cry...but I never really cry. Instead I just felt deeply out of place. Every person on this world struggles with something- a bad relationship with a family member, abuse, low self esteem, addiction, etc. etc. I have always hated how my "struggle" had to be so visible and available for conversation. My biggest flaw is also the first thing you see when you look at me. There's no hiding it, and let's face it- sometimes I just don't fit in with my surroundings. Hearing people talk about it when they thought I was fast asleep took me back to my time in high school when listening to the comments were a daily routine. This time, though, they weren't making fun of me, but they were just discussing my oh-so-visible handicap and sharing their mutual pity for me. Oh, how I hate pity! I wanted to curl up and disappear under the covers, going to sleep and not waking up until I had lost all of this weight. Laying there in bed, I vowed yet again to do something about it.
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