Good Natured

A couple weeks ago, spurred by the energy and enthusiasm of a new employee at work, we started a Thursday night ritual of going out for drinks. Because, let's face it, by Thursday, who doesn't need a cocktail or five?

Two Thursdays ago, we went to McKee's, a neighborhood hangout with cheap beer and cheaper clientele.

And this is where I interject into the story to explain a few things.

1. I am not totally happy with myself, the way I am right now.
2. I'm not sure what to do about it.

I'll come right out and say it. I'm heavier than I should be. I have been for a few years. It gets better, and then it gets worse, but I can't seem to really master this. I've tried diets, tried working out, tried hating myself, tried coming to peace with it. I've gotten mad at myself, forgiven myself, read books and cried. Nothing seems to help it. I can lose about 5 lbs, and then, just nothing. For weeks. And then I give up. And I know, I know, I could try harder, or get help, but its embarrassing. And I haven't. So, whatever.

Needless to say, I'm sensitive about it.

So on this particular night, at this particular bar, I was out with a couple beautiful women that I work with. Tall women. Thin women.

And this old crone weaved her way through the crowd, clutching her vodka and tonic and wearing a pink sweatsuit.

Let's just pause there. A PINK. SWEATSUIT.

Please understand, I have taken this information into account.

She was also missing teeth.

Nuff said.

Anyway she stumbled over to us, clutching her drink and her cane, and said to my raven haired co-worker, "You're good looking." We all sort of laughed, weird as it was.

She then turned to me.

"And you! You're good natured!!! Most fat girls are."

I felt like someone had punched me. Everyone kept laughing.

"You're not so fat, for a fat girl, because you've got big boobs to balance you out. My cousin is Dolly Parton, and she's got HUGE knockers. But she's not fat at all, like you."

Everyone laughed around me, and the bar became way too loud, and I couldn't breathe. I was so mortified.

I left, and got in the car and went home, crying quietly the whole way.
See, I know this shouldn't matter so much. This woman was ridiculous, and missing teeth. But why does this happen to me? Over and over again. I've been focused on the house, and my job, and surviving the last few months of living, under considerable stress. But.

I don't ever want this to happen to me again.
Ever.

Nuff said.