Thursday, July 9, 2015

A ridiculously personal ramble

I did something tonight that I haven't done in a long time: I cried in my car. A few big sobs, some careful dabbing of wet eyes with a paper napkin, and some sniffles that stayed with me until I drove back home. 

Last night, really early this morning, my son woke up vomiting. Poor guy, he kept complaining of a hurt tummy, and had a few more bouts of vomiting before daybreak. I didn't get much sleep after that and spent most of the day cuddling and soothing the sick little boy. 

As soon as my husband returned home, I jumped into the car to make my Weight Watchers meeting. It was there that the incident happened that lead me to rush to my car to find a safe place and to cry. 

No, it wasn't a matter of bad news on the scale. Rather, it was after I spoke up in the meeting that I noticed a regular attendee talking to another woman about me. While I could not catch everything that was said, what I did discern wasn't exactly positive. When I made eye-contact with the listener, she quickly averted her eyes from mine and began to blush. So I'm left doubting that they were speaking complimentary about me.

I felt immediate embarrassment, followed quickly by emotional pain. I was a target, and I didn't like being singled out for snide commentary. 

With the pain welling up inside me, the only thing I could think to do was to try and make eye-contact again, but this time to let them know that their gossip hurt. Not that made it any obvious difference. 

The moment the meeting ended, I shot up and made for the door. Before I could even get to my car, a few tears had already fallen. Could my sleep deprivation have contributed?  Could I have just been a touch too sensitive?

Here's the thing: I am embarrassed that I rushed to my car to cry. I'm a grown damn woman. But I also realized that after years of being a target, and after thinking that part of my life was done--I can safely say I'm still sick of it. Lack of sleep or no, being singled out for even minor ridicule sucks. 

It left me wondering, could it be that I've been using my weight to hide?  Have I been so desperate to be ignored, for fear of such awful criticism, that I've kept myself fat?  Let's face it, it's easier to be ignored when no one really wants to look at you...

A fews hours have passed now and I'm able to reflect on the incident with a lot less sting. I'm still embarrassed. Boy, howdy!  But I'm also wondering if it is even worth mentioning, if I should even share these thoughts.  Or if I should just suck it up, try and grow a thicker skin, and move on. I really couldn't care any less what those women think. It's never crossed my mind before. It's the being targeted aspect that gets so deeply under my skin. 

And now I'm repeating myself, so it's probably best that I close. 


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