Happy Friday, all!
I had a very uneventful week. After turning in the edits for
a manuscript I was working on Tuesday, I spent the rest of the week bumming
around in my PJs.
Nothing makes you feel more like a quarter-life-crisis
sufferer than not getting dressed for a week.
But shit happens, like receiving a very not-so-lovely letter
from a family member about my recent weight gain. Thank you, I hadn’t
noticed. So, I was in a pretty bad
emotional space.
But like my family is want to do, the news of said letter
spread through the gossip line, and I got a resounding show of support which
was nice.
I also don’t fault said family member for what was said. Was
it rude? Yes. Do they understand that it’s really out of my control at the
moment? No.
Here’s a person who has spent their whole life acutely aware
of their weight; and in my 26 years of life, this person has always been on
some diet or another. I’m pretty sure their self-worth is inextricably tied to
their waistline.
Really, that’s a shitty existence and not how my life
works. I may be overweight at the
moment, but my doctors have assured me that once I get my thyroid under
control, the weight will come off.
And besides, I’m not all that worried about it. I’ve been
through the ringer of testing to see where my health stands; and you know what?
Despite carrying extra weight, I’m healthier than most people I know.
My cholesterol, glucose, blood pressure, and various other
health readings all came out to be well within the normal range. I’m not even
borderline unhealthy on anything.
So maybe I’m going through a heavier moment in my life.
I’m being proactive about it, and I am healthy.
So yes, concerned family member. I’ve gained a bit of weight.
I’m okay with it, because I know it’s temporary and I’m healthy.
You, on the other hand, will continue to be wrapped up in
not only what your own scale reads, but apparently mine too.
Well you can go ahead and do that. I have more important
things to worry about and refuse to spend another day bothered by your words.
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