I know how difficult things have gotten—how cold and raw your days have become. And I have never loved you more than I do today.
Because I know where you are. The shame that melts through you when you see the jeans you bought because they only had them a size too small, and your friend said that would just motivate you. Wanting to go to the gym but feeling like you’ll have to run through a gauntlet of stares, snickers, and side comments. (And what would you even wear?) Considering the supplement from Dr. Oz that is clearly a hoax, but you’ve tried everything else.
Dressing impeccably every day for your own security. Laughing too loudly at jokes about fat people so no one mistakes you for one. Feeling anxious when you order food in public, because if you order pasta, everyone around you will think “how sad,” of course, and if you order vegetables everyone around you will think “but what a shame she let herself get that way.” Forcing a smile when someone tells you that you “wear it well.” Then wondering why you feel so deflated after compliments like that.
Convincing yourself that you’re fine—you don’t have to go to the doctor. Remembering how the nurse grimaces apologetically when she announces she’s going to have to weigh you, as if that didn’t happen every time. The familiar disappointment in the doctor who bypasses an examination and just tells you to lose weight.
The racing heart when you board an airplane. Making y…