Tuesday, March 9, 2010

After It's Gone

So now I'm a formerly fat person. I now have the opportunity to leave that former self in the murky past. People I've met in the last ten years don't know this salient fact about me and now I have to decide whether and how much to tell them. And most people don't want to hear about it. If they've had the genetic good luck never to have to think about their weight, they don't want to hear about your weakness; if they are deep in their own struggle with extra pounds, they can't envision defeating them. I can see the look in their eyes, the look I used to share: the "you can't possibly know the pressure I'm under" look, the "easy enough to say, but try my life for a couple of days" look.
Yeah, I know.
So even though I'd like to be truthful and sympathetic, that's not how my story plays when told. Thin people don't care, heavier people can't hear. It's like the new boyfriend who doesn't want to hear about your past. He'd rather believe you were always like this and just waiting for him to come along and appreciate you. Anyway, according to thin women, I'm still fat. According to my kindred, the fat women, I'm thin. So I'm shit out of luck. Neither community will let me in.

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