Never Ask a Woman When She's Due....

I didn't have a very good weekend, ego-wise. My husband wanted me to spend a little money on myself, so I decided to get my hair and nails done. I thought that would make me feel better about myself and make him happy. While at the hair dressers, not only was I the fattest one there, and had to watch all the skinny girls walk by non-stop, but I also had to look in the mirror at myself for the whole haircut. Anyone who is fat knows how that feels...you DON'T look at yourself in the mirror, except for a very short time when you do you hair and makeup. I had to look for a half hour at my fat face, and I swear, it seemed to get fatter by the minute.

I tried looking down, but I foolishly had told the girl I wanted to learn how to style my hair, so she kept asking "can you see what I'm doing? See how I'm using the brush this way?" I felt like telling her I just couldn't look in the mirror anymore, but that would have been even more humiliating.

There was a time when I was content with how I looked. I never thought I was beautiful, but I thought I was pretty when I fixed myself up. I didn't have a big chest, but I had a decent figure and I was a really good dancer. (I used to love country dancing). I could see the good things about myself with a pretty realistic eye. Now I really hate everything I see. The only good thing I can see about myself is that if I lost weight and had a really good hairstylist and makeup artist to teach me, I could fix myself up and look pretty darn good. If...always if. If I could lose the weight, if I could win the lottery, if.

I just feel like I'm going in a downward spiral of self-loathing, and it is eating me up, because I know I can't function as a good wife and mother this way. In my head, I know that I need to find a way to love myself, but it feels so impossible right now.

Anyway, enough of the pity party, back to the story. After getting my hair and nails done, I bought new shoes to show off my toes. The saleslady helping me seemed pretty nice, til she asked the question every fat woman dreads..."When are you due?"

Now in fairness to her, I was wearing a top that DID make me look pregnant. I was pregnant when I bought it, and though it is not a maternity top, it is cut in a way that is good for pregnancy. However, that is a mistake that NO woman should make. Men, okay, they are clueless. But women should know better. You don't assume a woman is pregnant unless she tells you, or you see the baby crowning! Sheesh! Because even women who are not morbidly obese can look a little pregnant after giving birth, and that is the LAST thing a postpartum woman wants to hear.

I was super nice about it, and told her I did have a baby recently and the top I was wearing did make me look pregnant. Then the moron goes on to ask "oh, how long ago did you have it?" At that point I was irritated, because I felt that, based on her tone of voice, she was saying thinking that I looked way to big to have had a baby very long ago. Then I had to admit that it's been a while, five months. She didn't even seem apologetic. I was humiliated. I should have made a comment or given her a nasty stare-down, but I didn't. I was trying to be nice, but in the end I ended up being the apologetic one, like I was apologizing for being fat and making her ask a dumb question!

Just another example of how this weight has changed who I am so much. I don't think I should have been mean, but if I had any self-esteem left, I would have handled it differently. She should have apologized, especially since I was a customer. The worst thing is, that is the second time in the last few weeks I have had someone ask me when I was due.

It really has come to the point where I don't want to leave the house anymore. Everywhere I go, I have to see these anorexic waifs that are glorified today, I have to wonder if people are laughing at me, I am petrified if I am shopping that someone is assessing what is in my cart, I go through a drive-thru for my husband and I, I am afraid they will think it's all for me. I can't even eat out and enjoy it, because I don't know what to order. If I order a salad, everyone will take one look at me and say "yeah right, she'll hit a McDonald's on the way home, who does she think she's fooling" and if I order something fattening, they'll think "try a salad, you cow."

Sometimes I feel like my life is on hold, like I am waiting for something to happen, to change things, because I can't face the idea that this is my life. I just feel so defeated. I would give anything to spend one day in the body of a thin woman, so I can remember what it feels like to LIVE, to walk around not caring--not even THINKING --about what others think when they look at me, to look in the mirror and smile, to play and run with my kids, to dance with my husband. Oh, to dance again! I really miss dancing. I think if I lost even 75 pounds, I could probably dance again. If I could at least do that, maybe I would find myself again.