Did you guys know that I've gained some weight lately? If you read my articles or follow me on Twitter, you might. If you're my friend, co-worker, or lover in real life, though? You definitely know all about it, because I haven't shut up about it for the past two months.
I know there's nothing attractive about jabbering on about your body issues -- just think of that scene in "Mean Girls" where the popular girls all have to look in the mirror and point out what they don't like about themselves. HA HA HA,it's funny 'cause its TRUE! And truly annoying.
But lately I've been weirdly unable to stop myself. Mention the gym, food, clothing or something else peripherally related to weight, and I watch the words float right out of my mouth and drift away like a balloon I can't quite catch before it's out of reach.
Everybody knew when I'd gained 10 pounds, and then when I'd gained 15. Everybody knew when I ate something I felt guilty about eating, and exactly how long it had been since I'd gone to the gym. When I saw a picture of myself that smacked me in the face with a reminder of my weight gain, I talked about it for the rest of the day.
And, look, I am self-conscious about my current weight. I'm not happy about it. I keep bringing it up because it is circling in my head 95 percent of the time. My boyfriend gets the worst of it, because I am most myself with him, and used to just opening up my mouth and saying whatever I'm thinking, whether it's self-criticism or a weird song about spaghetti.
We also eat together most often, and I've developed the bad habit of saying "Oh, I shouldn't eat this delicious whatever, because I've gained so much weight..." then waiting for him to tell me to go ahead.
Although intellectually I still believe that I am still perfectly attractive and sexy at a larger size, emotionally I am reaching out for reassurance that I am still lovable. Also intellectually, I can't really think of anything less attractive in a partner than constant complaining about her weight.
I come from a family where bodies are scrutinized closely. When I went home a few weeks ago, my father asked me "when I was due," and my grandmother (who is 90 and has pretty much earned the right to say whatever she wants, in my book) suggested that I "starve for awhile" after the holidays. Both of these comments came after I made a self-deprecating comment about my own body, but still.
In light of this, I guess the compulsion in talking about my weight is to let you know that I know, that I'm working on it, before you have a chance to judge me.
But if there's one life lesson I've learned pretty thoroughly, it's that all men want rimjobs and facials, and more relevantly, that nobody is ever paying as much attention to you as you are to yourself.
We all have that one friend who has a flaw we never would have noticed it it weren't for the fact that they talk constantly about it. I can think of several friends who started to look pudgy to me only when I realized they saw themselves that way. Confidence is like a full-body concealer.
I started Weight Watchers again yesterday, and I've been going to the gym again, because I truly would like to get back to a weight I am more comfortable with. But in the meantime, I'm going to shut up about it. Because I've got way more important things to say.
I want to hear your New Year's Resolutions, unless they're "lose weight," because ... shhhhh.