Day twenty-one of perfection. I am sticking to my list as gum sticks to hair it has slept in. I am “using it and losing it.” People are noticing. I never, ever want to have to lose these horrible fourteen pounds again. Losing and gaining and losing and gaining is devastating.
I hate it with a passion when a big fat woman does some pointedly “fat” thing. Today I chaperoned a field trip with Tiffany’s class. Two mothers besides myself were extremely fat, and one of them proved exactly why she was.
I was humiliated to look anything like her. Here’s the scene: We are all walking along. We stride past a “very French bakery.” A few minutes later, I notice this very round, very double-chinned person with a sack in one hand and a “very French pastry” in the other. She proceeded to obnoxiously tear into this huge, turnover-type dessert. I was embarrassed for her. I was also irritated by her behavior. How dare she shame all of us fat people by her lack of self-control? Sure, I know: she was the one who was pigging out, not me. But it’s like one of your family members doing something dumb or rude. You feel somehow responsible, as though you have to apologize or something. People lump all us fatties together. I hate it when one fat person’s piggish actions degrade all fatties a little bit more. I was furious with myself for being “one of them” at that moment. Just another fat person.