Memorial Day Weekend

This weekend Steve and I are heading to Gulf Shores and while I love the beach I am both looking forward to and dreading this weekend.

The thing is: I'm fat.

My brother is probably reading this nodding his head agreeing with me right now.

Which, you know, whatever . . . I don't blame him.

He's smart enough though not to pull me aside and say,

"Girl, what is up? You look like you ATE Tyra?"

My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy.

She keeps making these little comments about my recent weight gain and really it does nothing to motivate me to lose weight.

I KNOW I'M FAT, MOM . . . DEAL.

I don't know what she thinks, but I can't stand the look of disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.

The other day we were on the phone and as we were hanging up she said,

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Donteattoomuch."

She sort of threw in that last comment like it was supposed to be some sort of subliminal message. I guess she thinks its helpful, but it really hurts.

During another phone call she totally non sequiturs, "Do you know that every day for breakfast I have plain corn flakes with some fresh fruit? It's very light."

It was so weird. Like I was reading one of those 1950's diet books on how to obtain a trim girlish figure. Next thing you know she'll be advising me to drink a G&T before dinner in order to curb my appetite.

Her all time low was when she tried to get away with calling me "gordita"! Which, HELLO, translates to "Little Fatty."

Not cute.

That one I forcefully objected to and she tried to pass it off at as a cute nickname. I said, "No, absolutely not. You will never call me that again." The diminutive use of a word does not immediately make it cute.

Yesterday I went back to the gym for the first time in ages. This is going to be a regular thing in my life. I can't keep ignoring my expanding waistline. Ive started packing healthy snacks for work and I'm committed to working out three days a week and avoiding the snack machine and cafeteria at work.

I didn't get this size overnight and conversely I'm not going to drop the weight overnight.

I just wish my mom understood that.

Sometimes I wonder if my mom is just a product of her generation and she equates her looks with her self-worth. Maybe if I'm not a perfect size 6 my husband will leave me.

My ex-husband once said that my weight gain made it easier for him to cheat. Ya'll I was fucking small when I was with him. I don't think I ever told my mom that he said that, but it did mess me up for a long time.

I realized recently that Steve doesn't feel that way. Of course he doesn't.

Not every man is a narcissistic sociopath.

Anyway, yes mom I know I'm fat but don't despair. I'm more than the sum of pounds on the scale.