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Scent of a Woman

One of the things I’ve begun to incorporate into my diet lately is salmon. This is a huge deal for me because sometime back when I was still a tender young age, I stopped liking fish in almost any form. The only water-bound creatures I’d regularly consume were shrimp, prawns, abalone, and canned tuna. Once in a blue moon I’d have fish sticks. And once a year I’d have the salmon at the annual Salmon Barbecue. But that was it. There was no way you could convince me to consume fish otherwise. I wasn’t having it.

But high cholesterol finally prevailed and of course salmon is one of those foods that are excellent for keeping your heart health. Goddammit. And so I picked up some salmon steaks and decided I’d give it a go. I mean, the salmon at the barbecue every year wasn’t vile. Sure, I had a bit of really fishy-tasting salmon about ten years ago from the Fish Market restaurant on Pier 39, but even professional chefs can be idiots and serve old fish. So why not give it a go?

Sure enough, it’s turned out to be great. I love it! I found a nice recipe for a ginger glaze that I lightly brush over the top, and I serve it with rice and veggies, and I’m all healthy and shit. Hell yeah, look at me go with my omega-3′s! And even more impressive is how fancy I look at work when I unpack my lunchbox and allow my coworkers to behold the amazing piece of fish I so artfully arranged on its bed of rice, some green onions snipped over the top. FANCY.

The problem: I’ve now become one of those assholes. You know…the ones who heat up fish in the break room microwave. Salmon may not taste fishy, but holy shit does it not smell all that terriffic while it’s cooking, and it sure as hell doesn’t smell any better the next day upon reheating. I don’t even know what to do about the smell other than to hurry in, get my heat on, and hurry out before anyone finds out it’s me. The other day I realized I’d forgotten my bottle of water in the break room fridge and had to go back to get it, just in time to hear two guys commenting on how much the break room smelled like a dirty vagina. One of them nodded and said “Yeah, that’s the scent of a woman alright.” The other one chuckled appreciatively.

I had to then go back to my desk and try to eat my lunch with that description running through my head. I was a little less delighted with my salmon that day.

Fatty Pride

Every time I update LoseIt! to reflect yet another pound lost, I cringe because I know what comes next. As soon as the update posts to my Facebook feed, the inevitable parade of people giving me Likes, telling me “Good job!” and/or asking me “What’s your secret?” starts up and carries on throughout most of the afternoon. Some days I just wish people could shut up and find something else to focus on. Go farm your turnips or put out a mob hit or something. Stop paying attention to my sporadic weight loss updates.

I know…I know…if I don’t want comments, then why even let LoseIt! update into my Facebook feed? I genuinely do not know. I think a part of me wants to keep myself honest with the fear of public shaming. It’s not that I lack any willpower to lose weight all by myself, but there are days here and there where I really need some form of negative reinforcement to provide me with the motivation to NOT buy an entire container of cookies simply because the bakery doesn’t have smaller packages available. And there’s no better place to seek out humility than Facebook.

I think what gets to me isn’t that people are Liking my updates. That’s fine. It happens. It’s a way of showing support without being intrusive. But the comments are what tend to worm their way under my skin. Telling me “Keep up the good work!” sounds less like encouragement and more like “Hey fatty, it’s about damn time you started losing all that weight.” Asking me ”What’s your secret?” sounds like a nosy inquiry into whether or not I’m cheating by taking supplements, following a fad diet, or just plain not eating.

By far the worst though are the people who feel the need to say “I think you’re fine as you are, but I support your efforts.” Um, thanks? I don’t get it…WHY would someone say that? The other stuff I can deal with because whatever. But at what point is it necessary to threaten to pour cold water over my head and bring me back to some kind of alternate reality where it’s wrong for me to want to be healthy? First of all, I’m not asking for anyone to support my efforts. I’m a grown adult who got herself into this mess in the first place; I sure as hell can find my way back out on my own. Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it won’t happen now. And second, it implies that I am somehow doing this for reasons other than wanting to not have high cholesterol, hypertension, and a jiggly ass. As though I’ve succumbed to some great societal pressure to be thin.

Look. What you may have forgotten about me is that I have not always been fat. If this is news to you, well, then I’m sorry I haven’t mentioned it more often. But the fact of the matter is that how I look now is not how I am supposed to look. I didn’t get fat because of genetics or a thyroid issue. I got fat by other means that in retrospect were completely preventable, and it’s my own failing that I got to the point I’m at now. So the concept of me wanting to be 135 again instead of 240 isn’t too far-fetched. I want to be ME again. People don’t lambast mothers for wanting to lose the baby weight after a pregnancy. They tend to understand that the extra weight wasn’t part of their normal makeup. So why is it so weird that I would want the same thing, to be ME again?

Every comment someone makes embarrasses and eventually angers me. I shouldn’t be embarrassed about losing weight that doesn’t belong here. I shouldn’t be angry that people are happy for me. But I also shouldn’t feel like I need to explain myself, my decisions, and my actions. It’s a delicate balance between the two and either I’m going to have to learn to live with it (read: ignore the shit out of it) or I will have to pull my LoseIt! feed entirely and find another outlet to help keep me honest. Regardless of outcome, I will not waver from my course. No matter how much people like me “just as you are”, I don’t like me at all and that’s the part that counts.