Waiting to meet my Inner Skinny Bitch

Grr, whatever time I get out of bed is never early enough. I’m never in a rush, though, to get into the (ass)clown car because the ride starts when I get in and the earlier I am, the longer the ride is.

Speaking of squeezing my butt into tight spaces, I squoze my butt into my favorite pair of jeans a couple of weeks ago. Whee success! (Down approximately 37.5 pounds.)

There was a comment fiesta about my trip to the cooch doctor, with a suggestion that I apparently need to get laid more (who doesn’t?) because I joked that being poked with a speculum counted as action. But if folks could type with BOTH hands on the keyboard, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so ugly. (Actually, if you want to join in the debate whether “eating is cheating,” go leave me your thoughts on the subject.)

Anyway, the reason I went was because, as I de-pudgify, I have certain goals at certain milestones. And one thing that drives me nuts is going to the doctor for anything from a migraine to a suspicious-looking freckle, and the diagnosis is always, “It’s because you’re fat. Lose weight.”

You know, because for all this shouting over preventive health care (get it now kids, especially if that grinning idiot McCain, by some insane twist of fate that propels us into a parallel universe, gets elected), that’s the way to encourage people to keep health care costs down by making people feel comfortable with their doctors. NOT.

I do have to say, my hoo-ha doc treated me like a princess. I felt like I was a person, not a hole, and definitely not someone who was unwelcome even though my insurance company was picking up the bill.

Anyway, I’ve not yet decided what my next milestone is (that was my “down 35” goal), as I’ve been alternating between treats and tasks. I don’t mean treats like cake. (Oh, cake, how I miss you so. …) I just mean little rewards like a little shopping spree or an Amtrak ticket to go visit a friend in another city.

My ultimate reward will be a new computer. It’s also the reward set for whenever my mother moves out, whichever comes first. Since apparently it’s easier to lose (*mumble mumble*) pounds off of my own frame than it is to get my spare bedroom back!

I wish I had been documenting this journey, both pictorially as well as emotionally. The latter would be more interesting, though.

Perhaps the seismic shift has not been so much in re-distributing the pudge, but the garbage inside my head is being compacted, too. I forgot how much attention from the male species I used to get; it’s interesting to see it coming back in waves. All because I’m slightly smaller? Unbelievable. It’s wonderful and it’s sad all at the same time.

The good news is that I have always loved me enough, and maybe I love me a little more now than I have these past few years, but settling isn’t on my agenda. I told one of the newer ones that “I have waited far too long to settle.” I mean it. I think a part of me, pre-de-pudgification, was willing to settle for a little boredom and inattentiveness on the part of boys. Not that I felt I deserved it, but I think I felt I had to be grateful for what I got, since nobody else was really looking at me.

Of course, I always did come to my senses and hit the exits. Blah blah, I’d rather be alone than wish I were.

So my patience, along with my ass, has gotten thinner. Yes, I know I may not make the best first impression either, so I do give folks a fair shot. But beyond that, there are others out there. They might not have noticed me before, but here’s to hoping they aren’t that stupid now. …

I think the one thing I worry about, with the changing frame, is my changing mind. I mean, I’ve been a pudgeball my whole life. And I get angry when people of any size, shape, color or ability are marginalized.

And as I become more of what society wants me to be (for the record, it’s MY HEALTH that’s taken me on this journey — again, preventive rather than reactive), instead of forgetting about the “little people,” I don’t want to forget about the “big” people.

I mean, I know I will never forget what it’s like to suck in my ass cheeks to try to avoid bleeding over the narrow seats on an airplane. I will never forget walking behind someone who’s seated and trying (not always successfully) not to knock their hats off with my ass. I will remember being dressed up all pretty and not a soul noticing because they weren’t looking at me — they were either looking at a part of me or pretending not to see me at all, or maybe they looked straight through me.

So, I say all of this to say that a woman sat next to me at church yesterday, easily twice my size. And she had a man, which I am horrible and sorry to say surprised me but I had to remind myself that I was the one who wasn’t putting myself out there at that or any size.

I felt bad because she dropped a bunch of papers and I knew she couldn’t bend over to get them. And I was thrilled because I could effortlessly jump onto the floor and grab everything and hand it back with a smile. She was so grateful. I mean, surprised grateful.

And I was thinking, wow, we’ve never met before. Was she thinking I’d be rude or unhelpful or that I’d be anything less than the pillar of grace (*bats eyelashes*) that I always am?

And, more importantly, I was wondering when did I become the skinny bitch in the room? 😉

In any case, I guess I shouldn’t worry that I’m going to become callous or rude or anything else overnight. I won’t be out preaching the gospel of how good I feel and how everyone should do what I am doing — you gotta do it because you’re ready, plain and simple.

And while I hate it that it took me 34 years to get ready, well, I want it now and will work to get what I want. God knows I’ve prioritized everyone else in my life — it’s finally time for me. Like I said before, I’ve waited too long to settle … for anyone or anything less than what I want/deserve.

But if anyone catches me being anything less than humble in the meantime, you have the right to force-feed me a cupcake. 😉

3 Responses to Waiting to meet my Inner Skinny Bitch

  1. wow gospel series | Bookmarks URL :

    […] Waiting to meet my Inner Skinny Bitch I won’t be out preaching the gospel of how good I feel and how everyone should do what I am doing — you gotta do it because you’re ready, plain and simple. And while I hate it that it took me 34 years to get ready, well, … […]

  2. Rafael Moscatel :

    Adrasteia Andrews, is this you?

  3. Sabre :

    As a person who has been thin almost all my life, I always took for granted the amount of attention I generated by the opposite sex when I walked into a room. It wasn’t until I put on weight a couple of years back that I realized how prejudiced our society is against larger people. It was a serious eye opener for me, and once I got back to my normal size, I have learned to check my own privilege constantly.

    We normally think of privilege in terms of race, class, etc. But there is a certain amount of privilege given to the skinny bitch. It would be nice if society didn’t judge us based on what we look like, but as with all things, change starts inside. Gaining, and then subsequently losing, 50 pounds really opened my eyes. Like you, if I’m found being less than humble, please feel free to shove cupcakes down my throat.