2005-04-17 - 01:41

I am who I've always been.

I have a new favorite website. How fucking great is that? I only have around 35 pounds to go before I'm in the realm of the healthy. I'm super stoked about that. 35 is a drop in the bucket when you've lost 86.

So, a while back an ran into a guy friend with whom I used to be really tight but who’s fallen out of my life in the past couple of years. This happens, no big deal. He hadn’t seen me in awhile, and as previously mentioned, I’ve dropped a small child in the past year so, comparatively, I look pretty damn good. He did that thing where he looked me up and down as if I were just there for his ocular enjoyment. He then did something that really pissed me off. He put his arm around me and said, “You’re looking good..” Nuh-Uh. Oh no, you didn’t. I suppose I should just take the compliment and smile and what not, but after he left and I thought about it, I couldn’t not be angry.

I don’t really like being touched. Obviously, there are times and places where this dislike of touching is negated, but mostly, in general, in public, I just don’t want you to come in physical contact with me. This is something this guy friend should know because its not a new thing, I’ve always been like this. But, that’s not what really made me mad.

Yes, I look good. I try. I go to the gym and I watch what I eat and I put on eyeliner and lip gloss. I know I look good. What made me mad was that, years ago, when I could have used the encouragement to drop the weight or could have used someone being concerned enough with my health to harp on me to investigate the causes of my bizarre and unhealthy relationship with food, this guy friend, and to be fair most of my friends in general, not only refused to comment on my weight or my health, but often saw fit to exempt me from the category of girls which meant dateable girls. “Oh, but not you, of course,” was how every discussion of girlfriends and women in general ended. When I could have used the attention, when I could have used the support, when I could have used the help, what I got was, “I don’t think of you like that.” Which is cool, whatever. Everyone has their tastes.

Here’s the thing, He’s already rejected me. And, I’m the same person I was before. I just look a little different. I’m the same insecure, snarky, cynical, untrusting, intellectual, artistic woman that I have always been and if you couldn’t see my virtues through my flaws when we saw and spoke to each other every day, you’re going to have to come up with a pretty fucking good reason why I shouldn’t think of that first when you start flirting with me now. Not that it would really matter, I’ve seen his virtues and his flaws (also, I know where he’s been the past couple of years) and flirt all you like, I’m not interested.

Losing all this weight is, I suppose an amazing, remarkable achievement. Thing is, it was only possible because of my tenacious nature. I was able to do this because of who I am; also, because I read a diet book that made perfect sense to me. I’m like what happens when a company redesigns the box on some cookies you didn’t think you liked. Different packaging, same content. Oh, now you like it.

Oh, and for the record, I heard, “Oh, but not you, of course.” And, “I don’t think of you like that,” often enough that I really don’t believe the opposite when I hear it. I’m working on it, but its slow going. So, my first thought after he started flirting with me wasn’t anger so much as a pressing desire to cry because I thought something I’d worked really, fucking hard on was being mocked. Fuck that. Dude, if you didn’t have anything nice to say in the first place, I don’t want to hear what you have to say now. If you must, tell me I look good and leave it at that. If you want to flirt, maybe you should pick up the phone and we should start hanging out again first. Let's be honest, we've always been just friends.

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