When I call you for my obligatory weekly call (read: listen to you rant about your newest medical issues, hear about how much they miss you at work and are on the verge of collapse, hear another excuse of why you can’t exercise and have to sit about and eat junk food all day, what a pain in the arse my father is…etc), please spare me the details of how fat my friend is getting.
Your amazed goings on about how she has to have put on “AT LEAST 50lbs!” since you saw her last make me feel shitty. Guess what? I’d rather know how her children are doing, is her husband well, is her mom still doing OK? Oh, and guess what? I’ve gained 50lbs since high school too, mom. We’re 34 now, not 18. And she had two fucking kids! Mom, STFU!
The best part was when she finally stopped talking about how fat she was and how big her ass was, my father left the room (must be he tempers her nastiness somewhat- how scary is that?) she said “Oh good- your father just left the room- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW BIG SHE GOT!!! OMG GOD!!! BLAH BLAH BLAH FAT BLAH BLAH FAT BLAH BLAH”
In the future if you can’t say something nice, just shut the fuck up already. Why I ever think this will be different is beyond me. How you can’t see that you’re projecting your OWN worry about YOUR weight onto other people is beyond me, too. Hello- you’re 5’2" and about 275lbs. How would you like it if people saw YOU and spent time going on about how fat YOU got? I’ll bet you wouldn’t. Think about other people for a fucking change. Just because the person you’re talking about can’t hear you doesn’t make it OK.
What exactly did you tell your mother? Did you mention any of this to her?
I’m sure it’s a bad idea for me to point out the irony in the statement “Just because the person you’re talking about can’t hear you doesn’t make it OK.” and then saying “Fuck you” concerning your mother on a message board.
Weight is the first thing my mother notices about anyone.
The prime example concerns a girl my sisters and I grew up with. (We’ll call her Jane)
Now, Jane was a pudgy little girl who grew up into a chunky teenager. She was diagnosed around the age of 14 with a serious brain tumor (she survived - so I can say this) Of course, through all the cancer treatments she of course lost weight.
My mother’s oh-so-sensitive comment?
“Wow - Jane really looks great these days. She’s lost SO much weight!”
“Yes, mom. That’s because she’s dying of cancer!”