There was a box of filled doughnuts on the table in the lounge today. Every guy who walked in said, "Hey, allright! Doughnuts!" Every woman who walked in said, "Oh no! Who put that in here?!" or something rueful like that. The women walked up, peeked in, and then began with the Great Debate.
Should I be good or should I be bad? Can I "afford" a doughnut today? If I eat this now, I'll have to do an extra two laps at the gym; is it worth it? Should I eat my healthy snack I brought or should I just say what the hell and have a doughnut?
As one of the female teachers was debating, a guy swooped in and grabbed a cream-filled doughnut with great relish and took a huge cream-gushing bite. She looked at him enviously.
"Why can't I just be a guy?" she said, almost hatefully. "They don't even have to worry about it. If I was a guy, I would never have to even think about it. I don't think guys even have to worry about gaining or losing weight. If I was a guy, I sure wouldn't. I mean, why would I? It doesn't matter."
"Curt can lose 10 pounds just by laying off the beer," I said, unhelpfully, relating a true story about a male colleague in the math department. "That's why he wins the Lose-A-Thon every year. He signs up to lose 10 pounds, and he does it, just by cutting off the beer."
"That just sucks," Dawn replied, digging into the fridge for her pear. "This had better be one helluva pear is all I'm gonna say."
As I put the lid on the doughnut box, I recalled a moment with my husband a few years back. He had just quit construction and become a "desk jockey" due to severe back problems. As a result, he had started to gain some weight. We were standing in front of his dresser as he struggled a bit with the button on his jeans.
"Wow! I'm gaining weight! I'm getting fat!" he said, grasping his stomach with both hands and pretending to jiggle it. "You know what that means!"
I stood there, wondering which tack to take. Did this call for a wifely disavowal: Oh no, honey, you're not, really...? Or perhaps tough love: You sure are! Now drop and give me twenty! Or how about sympathy: You're not fat so much as you are just a little overweight. But it's okay.
My head was filled with what IT meant if IT were my problem: dieting, deprivation, sucking in my stomach, hitting the treadmill every night, drinking water constantly...that's it! I'd offer my expert advice! If anyone knew how to lose weight, which had been my principal activity for the first 43 years of my life, it was ME!
"I sure do, " I said. "I---"
"Time to buy bigger pants!!!" he said heartily.
I do the same thing. I bring healthy snacks to work, then I see cookies or brownies somewhere and have this internal debate. "Should I or shouldn't I, but I often do! : )
ReplyDeleteEric and I have been laughing about that picture all day!
ReplyDeleteEvery school I go in seems to have a table full of sweets and yummys laid out. It's torture!
As soon as I saw that pic, I knew it was the one. Also, could you see a female wear that shirt? EVER? No, because everyone would take it seriously and say, in a smarmily comforting but dying-to-know-the-details-voice, "I really respect you for making your battle with an eating disorder public. Maybe it will help somebody else. How long ago did you have anorexia?" Or worse, "I sure wish I could have anorexia just for a few weeks! Then I could get rid of this extra weight, ha ha, just kidding of course!"
ReplyDeleteBut a guy, especially that one--it becomes just what it is, hilarious!
C'mon, v, get the attitude. OWN THOSE BIGGER PANTS! STRUT IT. What did Mr. V say? Chances are, he never notices one way or the other, and doesn't care if he does.
ReplyDeleteBesides, one vanity at a time: you color your hair. So far, you're working on the stuff from the waist up.