This really lovely insightful personal post caused me to think about my own approaches to people I’m close to hurting my feelings. http://alwaysthinkingimfat.wordpress.com/2014/05/04/when-he-hurt-my-feelings/
Not many people I’m close to purposefully hurt my feelings, I don’t think they dare, I can be a pretty formidable character, that’s not to say nobody ever has. My birth family (I like to make the distinction between the family I was raised in and the family I created) find really unique ways of cutting me without even trying and it’s not usually that they say anything nasty (they did when I was a kid), but they can be hugely insensitive which is one of the reasons I can’t be bothered with them in my life anymore, they don’t even mean it, they’re just incapable of empathy as many who are selfish to the core are.
When I read the above post I tried to recall boyfriends or husband or anyone ever saying anything bad to me directly related to my weight and could only think of two things really, both of which made me chuckle. I’m not very tolerant of bad vibes or insults and tend to not give a chance for an apology or forgiveness, I move right on and leave bad vibes behind.
This is not always a good thing, it means I can appear flighty and also that I maybe don’t give things enough of a chance and walk out on things way too quickly, I’ve always had the approach that if someone upsets, offends or annoys me they’re not worth my time and they’re out on their ear before they get another chance. It probably comes from years of putting up with it as a kid and wishing I could just call it a day and get out of there instead of being forced to be around such negative people all of the time.
Of course there are exceptions to my rule, my children, a husband would get more room for error than a boyfriend, work colleagues although I’ve also been known to give them short shrift at times and my students, I have to give them a chance but then most of these people are nice and don’t need forgiving.
So my examples related to my weight forgive me while I indulge myself on my trip down memory lane:
There was a guy I was dating, I was on another diet, I wasn’t big, he’d said I didn’t need to lose weight but none the less I was trying to. I stayed over at his one weekend and I’d taken a small Galia melon for my breakfast, I cut it in half, offered him some, he declined and so I started to eat it.
“Michelle, are you eating a whole melon?” he asked (it was tiny and it was a melon)
“Yes, it’s my breakfast, it’s all I’m having, better than a bacon sandwich why?” I replied.
“I just thought you were on a diet and it seems a bit much eating a whole melon, a bit piggy” he commented.
I put my melon down, picked up my belongings and left, didn’t speak, didn’t answer his questions about what I was doing, didn’t go back, didn’t answer calls (no texts or emails in those days) and when he turned up at my house a couple of days later I announced that he was history, I’d eat a whole box of melons if I wanted to and he could go to hell. Door slammed, no opportunity for apology, end of relationship. Funnily enough I saw him at a party about a year later and I was with a new boyfriend and he was with a girl and he introduced me to her “This is Michelle, we used to go out a while ago”. “Yes”, I added “Everything was going great until he criticised my melons.” the confused faces were priceless.
The only other time I can remember is when I was dating this guy, he was suave and I’d already decided he was maybe too suave for me. I don’t like smooth operators much but he was filling a gap at the time. We’d gone to this lovely wine bar, it was a really lovely warm summers evening and we were in Richmond, London. The bar was situated by the Thames and we were out in the beer garden with all of the other pretty young city dwellers enjoying the weather and the early summer evening riverside atmosphere. I was feeling amazing, I recall it so clearly perhaps because he peed me off so much.
I’d had a good day off work, booked a holiday and was feeling excited and relaxed having had a pamper session with a friend that day, the first time I’d experienced waxing to remove body hair. Ouch but so smooth! I had a good tan from a fabulous summer and I’d taken to playing tennis for fitness and had had a really energetic game that morning which had left me feeling pumped for the day. I was a busty size 12 then, size 10 bottom (my slimmest ever apart from when I was emaciated from my time in the cupboard, see part 2 in my journey to fat). My hair was long, having grown back nice and lush and it was a lovely golden blonde tinted lighter than usual by the sun. He was 6’2″, mixed race, swam for fitness so had a body to die for, broad shoulders, slim waist a fab set of lean muscles, he was a doctor, well traveled, interesting, intelligent, sexy and fun… perfect but for his slippery smoothness.
We were seated at an outdoor table, opposite each other. There was another table behind my date with two delightful looking guys who I had clocked looking at me as I’d swung my long, lean legs over the bench seat and had returned their smiles. (Gosh I was such a flirt).
We had a bottle of crispy, chilled white wine and had a lovely conversation, flirting outrageously with each other, sexual tension was so tight if a fly had landed on it it would have exploded. Even so I’d been having some eye contact with the guys behind him not that he had noticed, I don’t think he could have imagined that anyone in his company would have eyes for anything but him. I couldn’t help myself, call me a tart, I had every right to be at that time, after my escape from hell and I wanted play things not anything meaningful. I had to feel in control and powerful when it came to men so that I could retrieve the shattered parts of myself.
Then it happened, he leaned forward towards me and took my hands and I leaned forward to him sensing he was going to say something for my ears only and he actually did it, he said “You know darling, I could really give myself to you if you lost a little bit of weight”.
Oh boy! What a mistake-a to make-a as they say. I was flabberghasted but kept my cool on the outside. The cheeky b*******.
I smiled sweetly at him and said, in my sweetest voice “Oh really, that’s so cool” and then changed my tone slightly and said “And what makes you think that I’d want you? In fact, there’s a skinny assed bitch over there [nodding over his shoulder] go try your luck, I’ve got my eyes on someone who appears to like me just the way I am. See you around… darling” and with that I extracted myself from the picnic bench type table and moved to sit on the table behind him “Mind if I join you guys?” I asked “My company back there was getting so slippery I think I was in danger of sliding off into the Thames” and we all laughed as they waved me into a space at their table. Suave guy couldn’t do anything really, I left him a bit powerless (as was my intention) and the guy I met that night from the other table turned out to be one of my so far life long friends who has loved me through fat and thin.
Everything happens for a reason as they say. So yeah, I’ve experienced it but I’ve not dealt with it so well depending on how you look at it.