Foot in Mouth – Body on Mind
The office I work in is an old building…kind of a make-shift fill in arrangement until construction is complete at one of the campuses. People move in and out of here as their space becomes available but some of us are stuck here for a good few years yet.
Down the hall is a lovely older woman who works for HR in some capacity. She is sweet, kind…lovely to chat with…I just ran into her on the way to the bathroom. We talked about summer for a few minutes, easy small talk, and then she dropped it on me.
“So….(big smile)….You’re expecting!?”
Fuck. me. What? “No, I’m just getting fat.” I replied.
She was horrified, of course, and bumbled around trying to find some words to make that seem less insulting (she meant no harm). I laughed it off, waved away her worry with my hand and smiled….told her it was cool, I wasn’t offended, was a mistake.
“How horrible of me. It’s just that everyone has been saying there’s someone who is expecting a baby in your department. I thought it would be you because you’re still so young.” (yeah, bit late for the compliments now!).
Greaaaaaat. So. Let’s run down the list of my coworkers shall we? Of the ones who could still give birth (i’m going with 49 and under, to be extremely generous): One is a stick person who works out ten times more that she eats. Wouldn’t be her. One is about to send her only child off to med school…no babies there. The two young ones in the office are also teeny little people who had their babies and then immediately bounced back into their pre-baby body with ease. Everyone else is already a grandparent. Soooo…yeah. It’s me they’re all talking about.
The one thing I could always count on to feel good about was the way I looked. Now, what do I have? Where is the prize for all this fucking coping? So now I don’t get to be sane, I don’t get to be healthy, I dont’ get to be out of pain AND I’m 20 pounds away from the weight I was when I was nine month preggo. Maybe I’ll suddenly develop some fucking face eating disease so I can look as hideous as I feel.
Why can I not make things go right? WHY is everything that I cannot control getting out of control all at the same time?! What do I DO? Stop eating so I can be thin again? I’m sure I’ll be told to get used to it and accept myself for who I am, not what I am…but the who has been tricky for me and the reason to give a shit even trickier.
I weigh 140 lbs. Those words just made me cry.
I am trying so damn hard to make this all turn around. Something has to give…right? Right??? I mean, I’ll deal with the CPTSD, anxiety, flashbacks, dissociation and depression. I’ll work my way through it all and I’ll survive it too. I’ll deal with the physical pain in my bones, muscles and nerves; I’ll deal with the headaches and constant vomiting and diarrhea. I’ll take on Colt and his autism, fight for him every step of the way until my dying breath and through that, I hope to teach him the things I learned the hard way, before he stumbles down the same path (as best I can, anyway). I’ll deal with having no money, no assets, no house. I’ll deal with the shitty cars that break down because we can’t afford new ones. I’ll cope with D coming home every third night to announce that he’s going to get fired or quit…..
…..but for crying out LOUD can we NOT make me fat and ugly too!? Seriously. !!!!!!!!!!!!! Enough is enough. I’ve PAID my dues. I’ve suffered as expected and I’ve come through in unexpected ways. I’ve fought for my life…every step, and yet every step seems harder than the last.
So what do I do? Just let go of everything I was and hope that I still like myself a little on the other side? *tears* I want outofthis outofthis outofthis!!!! This is not fucking fair. I must have been one hell of a bitch in a past life…..