Not to make light of this at all, but having recently studied Munchausen Syndrome by proxy, that’s damn funny. In a sad way, of course.
You are not fat.
You are not fat.
You are not fat.
You are not fat.
You are not fat.
I think my BMI is somewhere around 22. That means that were I to gain 10-20 lbs I’d be officially overweight.
Those of you who have seen me in person can attest to what a load of motherfucking, ass-licking, cumrag-sucking, fuckdrop-worshipping goddamn nonsense THAT is. The BMI is about as accurate to say how healthy you are as a radio psychologist.
Esprix: tout le monde means “all the world”, or perhaps more appropriately, “everyone/everybody”. I’m sure you can find a suitable deeper meaning, so to speak:)
And lastly, NothingMan: in MPSIMS I recently posted about an egg I broke . . . the hard way.
There are still plenty of eggs left for you to shove up your ass until you figure out how not to be an annoying fuck.
Honey, you are so not fat and, in fact, you are adorable.
There are people in this world who say or do thoughtless, stupid things; your dad is one. The only thing you can do is ignore him.
Besides, the artificial body images gay men aspire to are unrealistic. As long as your BMI is in the “healthy” range, you’re fine. Washboard abs are just not attainable for most
people; besides, you need to have some bodyfat on hand to be healthy. Have you seen the fitness guys on TV like John Rebedow or the guy selling the ABDO-ER? Look at their faces–those men look like POWs!
As long as you feel healthy, with sufficient strength to lift things with little strain and aerobic capacity to walk up a flight of stairs without feeling winded, and if guys are grabbing your ass in the bars, you’re in good shape. Tell your dad to have a Devildog and to shut the f*** up.
Matt, next time he pulls that crap on you, just agree with him. And return the favor by reminding him he’s old. Then say, “But while I can always get skinny, you’re just gonna get older. And older. And older, Old Man!”
Ask him if he needs Viagra yet (if he doesn’t, it’ll make him wonder when he will; the worrying might even make it a self-fulfilling prophecy). Ask him if he can still pee without it hurting. Ask him how many 'roids he’s got, and if he’s given them individual names yet. Ask him if he’s coloring what’s left of his hair. Compliment him on the real cool comb-over. Ask him if he’s feeling the heat at work from those young lions gaining on him on that career ladder. Remind him of how much younger Nolan Ryan was when he retired as the elder statesman of his sport. Mention Warren Moon, too. Hell, mention all the guys who retire from sports at far younger ages than your dad. Ask him if he’d like to run a few laps with you. Ask him how much insurance he’s got, then ask him if he’d like more salt on his food.
Ask him if he catches the eyes of as many women at work as you do.
to paraphrase some famous drunk:
Woman: You sir are drunk!
Famous Drunk: And you madam are ugly. But in the morning, I’ll be sober.
You ARE NOT FAT!!! Trust me, I’m a recovering bulimic (who can’t spell)I spent 6 weeks in an eating disorder unit because I didn’t think taking 12 laxatives a day was excessive.
Your dad is your dad and while I’m sure you love him, he’s quite an ass. EVEN if you were fat (which you are NOT), you could lose weight. Your dad on the other hand would still be an insensitve lout.
your dad can cope with your sexuality but he can’t cope with your weight?
Your OP called to mind the time when my ex-SO was dying of AIDS and I was sitting their with both his parents. Dad couldn’t cope with him being gay (but could - and did - totally handle the AIDS thing) and Mum could cope with him being gay (cos her other gay son takes her out shopping til she drops) but couldn’t cope with him having AIDS.
I just hope that for all my highly vocalised and very opinionated beliefs, my children’s appearance/sexuality/religious beliefs/politics will never outweigh my desire for their happiness.
Your post has given me food for thought matt, because I realise that in some subtle ways perhaps I do give my children messages I don’t intend to give them.
Anyway, I know what you mean about your father. My wife has the same problem, and from close observation, I’ve learned two things:
The best way to handle it is to let the comments roll off your back; and
It’s near-damn impossible to do so.
There’s something about the parental connection that short-circuits the best intentions. I can listen to the cutting remarks, even when they’re made to me, and I can laugh and toss it back with mustard. But, then, I didn’t grow up with them.
Just one suggestion, however: don’t respond to the jibe. That only gets you into an argument. Stare for a moment and let the conversation die, then change the subject. Leave the room if you have too, but do it as if you just thought of something better to do, and not as a result of the comment (although everyone will know that’s exactly why it happened).
Other than that, there’s always pity. That’s a man who doesn’t realize the hurt he’s causing, and who will never change. That’s pitiable behavior at any age.
I’ve actually heard the famous drunk story attributed to Churchill, W.C. Fields, and Groucho Marx. So I went for vague. But matt’s dad is still an insensitive lout.
matt, do what I do. Tell your father you KNOW you look good and have another chocolate. Then ask your dad why he’s checking out your ass. If he stutters, don’t let up. Make HIM feel defensive over it. Be an adult and for gawd’s sake HAVE fun with it! Hit him where it hurts but with “love”. (A small reminder later that you are, in fact, an adult may give him a bit of perspective. If not, well, you already have an excuse to let the words fly should he try to “hurt” you into acting like a child again, which to me is what it sounded like he was doing.)
Parents can be fucked up in so many ways…sorry it caused you pain though. here have a severely over-sugared jello shot…it may not help, but enough of em and who the hell cares?
I think that some people take growing older as some sort of license to make rude comments. My grandmother does stuff like that. She’s made comments about my weight before behind my back (and I am not fat either, not in that family, at least)…perhaps she forgets that younger people have better hearing. She talks about other people as well. My great-aunt once asked me, “What is that red thing on your face?” It was, of course, a pimple. Gee, thanks a lot. (I realize that failing eyesight could make pimple identification difficult, but why not just assume it’s a pimple? Are skin conditions other people’s business, anyway?)
Anyway, to some people, growing older gives them this license to say whatever they want because, well, they are old, so they can. They don’t care. No one’s going to call them on it, because we are supposed to “respect our elders” and all of that. They’ve been holding in all the rude comments and strange questions since childhood, and it must create incredible stress as they get older, because eventually, the comments start spewing out. It’s like they are four years old again, except that it doesn’t seem nearly so innocent, and Mommy’s not around to say, “You shouldn’t say that!” anymore.
My husband’s family is notoriously unhelpful when it comes to weight. They picked on him because he was fat, and then they picked on him because he started going to the gym. I think they think it’s good-natured teasing. The in-laws tend to go too far with their teasing quite often. Your father might be the same way.
