Why do you care if I am fat?

My youngest daughter was home for a week. It was a wonderful visit. We got to go to the pool, visit with family and enjoy each other’s company. When you communicate via text, phone or social media you tend to stick to MACRO news, big events or important information. But when you are face to face, you can do micro communication. One thing can lead to another in a relaxed way and we talked about everything.

We talked about her boy friend and their possible future plans. She was hesitant to talk about something but finally told me that her bf’s parents were very sports and fitness oriented and that if they were to meet me they would not like me because I am overweight. She revealed that particularly the Mom would feel this way.  I was stunned.A-little-husky-e1349428357446-500x473

We talked about it and I even got some tears in my eyes. She felt terrible and we agreed this was a rude and close minded way to go through life. I have this overwhelming desire to talk to this woman whose antipathy towards me would be based on how much I weigh.

If I could confront her I would like to ask her, why do you care if I am fat? It’s not you, it’s not something you can catch. We all have our faults or issues and mine is visible.

1453399_692492040796250_100681142_nI think the reason it brought tears to my eyes is because I have quite a history with this kind of attitude. My dad has watched my weight most of my life and it never, not once, made me any thinner.

When I was in 5th grade I began a two year growth spurt where I grew eleven inches and 50 pounds. I was growing like crazy. And I was hungry. And I was not fat.

My dad caught me in the kitchen sneaking chocolate ice cream and snapped at me, You’re going to be as big as a house. I have never forgotten that. It made me feel awful.

He continued to watch what I ate throughout high school and college. I was not at all fat but I sure felt fat. When I did not get a teaching job immediately after college, he told me it was because I was overweight. Grrr.

I’m 62 and finally now I am fat. I’ve had a full life that has packed on these pounds. That and cookies, lots of cookies. Oh well.11703169_10153047990746395_2699254038709392164_n

To quote a fellow blogger, I’m not a terrorist, I’m not a criminal, I’m just hungry! What’s it to you?

I am not hurting anyone, polluting anyone’s air or insulting a kitten. My healthcare costs are not any higher than my athletic and skinny sister’s, she has had more health issues and costs than I have.

I did a quiz on Facebook that told me I could gain two years of life if I exercised way more and changed my eating habits. They predicted my life expectancy at 99. Both are probably nonsense but two years? Seriously?

ee5564d7314db67dead63c97bbdbf314How about if we all just mind our own business and accept each other as the imperfect people that we are? Some people talk too much, others are smug and some are chubby.

Let’s try to enjoy our own lives and let others live theirs. But I just have one question.

Could you pass me those cookies?

Sew happy!

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Not only am I fluffy, I am also from the Midwest. Eeks! Read it here.

Filed under: advice, aging, humor

Tags: fat

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