Take that
So my weight loss has now progressed to the point (20 lbs) that
people are starting to notice and in so much as most of the people I come into
contact with on a daily basis are pretty nice they’re mentioning my ever
shrinking mid-section. Now for any normal person this would be a godsend, a
validation that all one hard work and self control has started yielding
dividends. As I’m sure you’ve all deduced from my weekly ramblings I’m not
normal. I being the snarky but (hopefully) loveable curmudgeon that I am can’t
help but receive every compliment (matter how well intentioned) as a statement unfinished.
And of course the voice in my head must complete it. “Looking good… …not like you usually do. “You’ve lost weight…” …and not a minute too soon. “You’re looking skinny…” …not at all like the great lumbering land
beast we’ve come to love.
When complimented by co-workers or casual acquaintances I
manage a sincere “Yeah? Thanks” and head out of the room before they can see me
blush. With close friends I’m not so cordial. After being told by a friend that
my weight loss was really starting to show I replied with a courteous “Shut the
fuck up”. Emily Post (and my mother) would be ever so proud. One probably wouldn’t have to delve too
deeply into my protestant- American -work ethic upbringing to understand why I
can’t to this day take a compliment. We don’t want to get too full of ourselves
now do we? Truth be told I need and like ego strokes as much as the next guy
and hope that my inability to take ‘em like a man doesn’t stop their flow in my
direction.
Should you encounter me any time soon please feel free
to tell me how good I look and I promise I’ll do my very best not to swear at
you. I also promise not to have a tearful “Lifetime Television for Women (and
gay men)” breakdown declaring through sobs “I’m pretty Mamma”. I’m saving that
for when I reach my goal weight
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