I'm back

So, last week was a rough one. I'm still hawking up lung meat, but I'm feeling better now. School's out for two weeks, and I can get my act somewhat together.

I finally got my darn 25 pound magnet. I got to 24 pounds lost the day before Thanksgiving, and it took almost 4 weeks to get one more. So, in 16 weeks, I've lost now 25.8 pounds. For those of you who don't know what it's like to be so overweight that teenage boys in the mall call you a porker, it's a big deal for me. I know I'm more than my weight, and all that, but the storefront does matter.

What I mean is that I could have the best products in the world inside, but if the store window is dusty and dirty or rundown, it will be hard to get people to come in to see. I know it's all packaging, but packaging matters. I struggle with this, because I think it's unfair, but I also know it's a reality.

I'm going to tell you a couple of stories that are a bit woe-is-me, but which should also explain my point of view.

When I was in college, I was a Resident Assistant my junior year. Our dorm had a formal dance, and I had to go, but I had no one with whom to go. I was pretty cute that year (or so I thought). A girl on my floor had a friend she said she'd set me up with. Great. He and I talked, thought it would be good to meet before the dance, and he came over. We talked for about 15 minutes, he left, and within the hour, I got a phone call: "sorry, something's come up. I forgot about it before."

Huh. Later I found out that I was just too "chubby" for his taste. The idea of spending a couple of hours with me was so repellent that he was willing to go back on his word.

Okay, I hear you saying, "he was a jerk." Yes, he was, but that doesn't take away from what happened.

Next. There was a man I met working at a summer camp. David McMullen. Yeah, I'm using his name. He was a friend back then. He was a little intense, a little goofy, but I thought he was cute. Nothing ever happened between us, but we kept in touch all throughout college and in our early 20's. This was before email, so we wrote long letters to each other. We made mixed tapes for each other. I went and visited him once in Colorado, and we held hands and had long deep conversations that only 23-year-old's can have. Still, even though something seemed to be bubbling, we didn't act on it. I went to Japan to teach English, and the letters kept going back and forth. We had a strong friendship and a question mark about the future.

I came home for a few weeks the summer I turned 26. My two good friends Carol and Tami and I went on a road trip across the western US. We had a great time, and met up with David in Yellowstone. He was living in Wyoming then, and teaching science. We spent a few days together, dancing around the subject, until I couldn't take it any more.
"David, if we weren't so far apart... if things were different, do you think we would be more than friends?"
"uh...um...no."

Okay then. Asked and answered. But no, he felt he had to explain himself.

"See, I know that... well, I'm not proud of the fact that... I just... the bows and ribbons are important to me. The pretty wrapping paper, the outside. I know it shouldn't matter, but it does."
I gave him a blank stare, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

"See, I really care about you Becky, but I've always pictured myself with a slim, beautiful woman."

Oh.

Wow. This wasn't from some flake I met for fifteen minutes, this was from a man I'd been friends with for years.

I said, "You can stop talking now."

Later, back in Japan, I wrote him a letter and told him how much he had hurt me, reducing the importance of our relationship to what I looked like. I said he could have just said he didn't have romantic feelings for me and it would have done the same job in a much less hurtful way. I also told him that he was kidding himself if he thought he was going to end up with a super model.

I got a letter back from him in less than a week. He told me that "the truth hurts" and to "fuck off." I never heard from him again.

Okay, another jerk? fine. I agree. However, this jerk said out loud what how many more polite folk haven't?

I have two very good-looking friends. Both have commented to me that I'm lucky, because I can trust that the men I'm friends with really like me, not just want to get into my pants. Again, a compliment? I think not. Even my friends acknowledge in this way that I don't have the kind of beauty or sexual appeal that is in the forefront.


What's my point? I don't really know. This losing weight thing is getting to me. I've lost two and a half bags of potatoes already, and I still weigh over 200 pounds. I'm trying not to let that bother me, but it does. I'm a loyal, honest, kind friend, and I contribute to the world everyday.

So why do I care so much about getting into a size 10 pair of pants?