as hell, apparently. It's not as if I didn't know I've gained weight. It's not as if I don't see myself in the mirror after I get out of the shower. It's not as if I don't realize my clothes don't fit. I'm aware of my weight gain. I'm also aware that I'm 47 years and 7 months old and my skin is sagging; I have sun damage on my face; I have wrinkles around my eyes and between my eyebrows and across my forehead. I am aware of all these things. Trust me. But why do strangers, friends-of-friends, people I might know because they know my people feel comfortable telling me I'm fat and wrinkly? Oh right, they're trying to help, and it's on social media so it doesn't count.
We've all received the friend request from a person whose name seems familiar. We check with whom they are friends and find commonality, so we accept the request. They aren't looking to be friends; they are looking to improve your life (a life they know nothing about) by making you look younger or keeping you from being so dang fat. Yes, I can unfriend them or unfollow them, but the damage has been done. I've already read what you think of me. You think I'm not enough the way I am. You think I need improvement.
Let me be clear, I appreciate the hustle. I love that you are providing for your family. Hats off to you. I'm not talking about the people with whom I'm actual friends posting offers on their timeline. It's THEIR timeline. Get your money, honey. I'm talking about folks who don't really know me sending me direct messages or a friend request, so they can sell to me.
Maybe you've seen me walking my dogs and noticed my butt is big. Maybe you've seen me in the grocery store in yoga pants and my husband's t-shirts, because my clothes are so uncomfortable I can't wear them, and I refuse to buy another size, because I know how to get in shape (move more, eat better) and am determined to do it. Maybe you just saw my face in my profile picture and thought it to be a little too round. Thought that I could use some help. I'm sure you had my best interest at heart. I'm sure you were thinking of a bill you needed to pay, and this is your job, so you should be doing it. I'm sure you wouldn't walk up to my chubby, lined face on the street and tell me I'm looking old and you have the solution or I'm looking overweight and you can help with that problem. I'm sure of this, because no one has done that. But scrolling Facebook, you felt comfortable offering (inadvertent?) subtle criticism along with a your simple solution.
What you didn't see, I'm assuming, in that picture is my genuine happiness. My husband loves me. All of me. And I may not be thrilled with my body, but after lots of hard work mentally and emotionally, I love me too. Do I want to BE fit and healthier? Yes. Does that mean "skinny"? No. A weight loss plan that doesn't including moving more is just weight loss. It's not a healthier lifestyle. It's not making me stronger. It's not building muscle and helping my balance, which will truly serve me as I age. It's just simply looking better, so maybe people who don't know me won't think of me as fat anymore.
What you also don't see is the hysterectomy scar running most of the length of my stomach. I got that scar last August. I went into the hospital and they cut me open like a c-section, but we didn't leave with a baby. Nope. I left brokenhearted, feeling a little less like a woman, mourning the loss of potential motherhood via my own body, this time for sure and forever. My husband left with a wife who was sad and broken and he unable to fully remedy it.
So I ate and I sat on my ever-growing butt. After a hysterectomy you literally feel the empty space where your uterus once lived. Your organs feel like they are moving to fill in the spot that's now empty. Did you know that? Sitting here, writing this nearly a year out, I can feel it. That blank space. So, I tried to fill that emptiness with the S'mores blizzards and cake and potato chips. That obviously doesn't work.
See, I know how I got into this shape. You don't. You weren't here for that journey. I appreciate your wanting to help me reach my goal weight, lose 40 pounds in 40 days, de-bloat my belly. But I don't need that. I don't need someone else commenting on my body, because for several months now, I've been telling myself how disgusting my stomach looks. How jiggly my thighs are. How my butt looks like it has a shelf on each side. I've been avoiding going out because of it. I've said it, and your simple offer, says that to me. As unfair as of me to feel that way it might be, it does. I know I'm reading a lot into a blanket sales pitch, but that's how communication works, it's what the listener gets out of it. I get out of that "marketing" that I'm overweight and need help.
My value isn't my weight, I tell myself. You're the sexiest woman I know, says my husband. You look so pretty, say my stepdaughters. But somehow, your voice telling me I need to lose weight and do it fast is louder. That's my fault, not yours. You're just doing your job. You're just trying to help. But I gotta do it myself for myself.
Here's my point, if you don't know me, don't friend request me to sell me weight loss products or anti-aging products. I have real friends who are selling the same thing, as do most folks on Facebook. If I want that kind of help, I'll get it from them. Again, if we're friends, SELL YOUR STUFF. No harm. It's the stranger whose intention is to remind me that I need improvement, physically, that can cause hurt.
Today while walking my dogs (and picking up their poo - my goodness DO THAT if you have dogs. Geez, I shouldn't have to say that but my lawn says otherwise), two women in two different vehicles smiled enormous smiles as I crossed the street. One gave me a huge wave. Two women I don't know. While I was walking and trying to remain invisible, ball cap pulled down, over-sized shirt to cover my butt and gut, feeling fat because another person sent a message telling me they could help me lose weight, these woman saw my face. They saw it and smiled. True, real smiles. I walked a little faster. I held my chin up a little more. I felt encouraged.
So maybe do that. Encourage each other. Send me a message saying you think I'm doing great. Or send one that says you are struggling and need lifted up. I promise you, I'll encourage you in anyway you want me to. I will give you my best smile and a big wave and a "way to go, I see you working at your goals". I'll most certainly be cheering you as you walk through your hell. I'll not focus on your scars and wrinkles and weight, I'll be too busy cheering your success and joys to even notice.
Again, I'm not against the hustle. I struggle with strangers acting like friends to sell me something to change my body when I've not asked for it. That hurts. It shouldn't, but it does. Perhaps just think about it for a moment before you hit the friend request button.
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