(note: Please do not be offended by any word-choices here. This is not an insensitive story by any means, it is for amusement. So, don’t send me emails because I used the word ‘retarded,’ got it?)
I ran into someone on my way to work today, a co-worker from the long, long ago; the before-time. I don’t remember his name, and I don’t care to know it now. He saw me from a half-block away and started getting really animated. It was too late for me to cross a street or turn down an alley to avoid him, so I soldiered on. He approached with this strange surprised look on his face and began extending his hand. But, his hand was not headed toward my hand for a shake. As he got closer, he jumped forward and jutted his hand out, purposely landing it squarely on my belly, as though I were pregnant, and said “What happened?” Struggling to compute this unprecedented turn of events, I said the only thing I could think of: “I got fat.” The flood of cruel comebacks would arrive in a deluge moments after he walked away.
I live in reality. I know I have gained weight; I don’t think I look even close to the way I did a year ago. I know I have gained too much weight and am likely diabetic (we find out on Monday). I have a lot of self-loathing for my weight gain, and am simply uncomfortable in my own skin these days. My lover and friends have been supportive and encourage me – sometimes by lying: “you’re not fat, you look fine” – and by kindly asking if I’ve gone to the gym and etc. My weight seems to loom over every part of my day: uncomfortable and trying to avoid looking at myself when I get out of the shower, trying to find clothes that fit comfortably and that “hide” some of the weight, getting winded and sweaty walking to work or to the store, embarrassed to go out to bars where I used to hang out… oh the list goes on.
I realized I was getting fat awhile ago while working behind the bar at The Edge. A customer whom I have known since my days at Harvey’s approached me and said “Y’know, ALL the weight you’ve gained since you left 440 is starting to look good; you’re starting to look like a real bear now.” I have nothing against bears, I like bears! But, I never thought I would be one. I knew I gained weight – I had recently dismissed the idea that all my clothes had shrunk at exactly the same time – so I would have been fine with his comment, save for that one enormously small word: “ALL.” Without that word, it’s a compliment: “Y’know, the weight you’ve gained since you left 440 is starting to look good…” See how much nicer that sounds?
At the time, I chalked that one up to a left-handed compliment and an amusing story I could tell friends and bar patrons. Re-telling it helped in two ways: I got to ridicule my pain, and the more you do that, the less it hurts. And, most of the people I told the story to would immediately tell me I hadn’t gained that much weight, that I wasn’t a bear and that I looked fine, etc. So I got a little ego boost.
I’ve recently had to ridicule other hurtful comments and events too – though the “you’re not fat” comments seem fewer and farther between these days. A few weeks back I started receiving emails from Jenny Craig. At first I thought it was a fluke; I get plenty of emails from weird sites. But, then after three weeks of Jenny Craig emails, I started getting emails from Weight Watchers and Nutrisystem. Opening my email every morning began to feel like waiting to be picked in gym class. I’ve since unsubscribed to all three sites, but can’t help thinking that maybe someone had deliberately signed me up for those emails in an effort to passive-aggressively tell me to lose weight. Maybe that sounds paranoid, but after someone puts their hand on your tummy and asks “what happened,” it’s obvious people can be incredibly cruel without trying or even knowing.
I remember talking to my therapist once about a failed relationship. My therapist, Tim, was very harsh, that is why I liked him. He had a great sense of humor and was more sarcastic than I could ever be (that’s an accomplishment). I told Tim of my most recent ex-beau woe. When I finished, Tim rolled his eyes at me and said:
“Christ, Scott! I should record your sessions and whenever you have a “new” problem, I could just replay the session from the last time you had that same problem. Because, you have the same problems over and over. Are you retarded? No…retarded people learn faster than you do!”
Yes, it was mean, but he was right…not about the retarded people, just that I had the same problems (probably still do) over and over. I don’t seem to learn or grow from them.
The day after I had talked to Tim, I went to the laundromat. I had a large bag of laundry, which I set in front of one of those big Mega-Load washers. The ‘mat was packed, so I was lucky to get one of these big machines. I began tossing my clothes into the machine and was almost to the bottom of my bag when someone tapped my shoulder saying, in a marble-mouthed manner, ”dot machie is bwoken.” I looked up to see the developmentally-disabled person standing next to me using his left hand to tap my shoulder and his right hand to alternately tap the sign on my machine. The sign which read “out of order.”
I called my therapist immediately. He was right; retarded people DO learn faster than I do. Tim immediately apologized. He said he hadn’t meant to sound or be so cruel. He launched into a “developmentally-disabled people have the same relationship troubles as you and me…” diatribe that I tuned out. I mentally rejoined the conversation when he said that I do learn, just not as quickly as he’d like. And that from these events HE had learned something, though he didn’t tell me what. I think he learned to be more careful of people’s feelings, that no matter your intention, you can hurt someone with the simplest of actions; with one word.
I’m going to try and learn and grow from today’s events. I’m going to try to be less cruel. And I am going to try not to let stupid people saying or doing cruel things, intentionally or not, bother me so much. Lastly, I am going to try to get to the gym today to help me to feel better about myself.
“ I know I may look like a rhinoceros, but I’ve got quite a thin skin really.” – Bernadette Hogan, Circle of Friends
