I just want to get to my bottom line instead of giving this past weekend’s story tons of context.
I stopped by a hotel after dancing amateur night outside Boston asking for rates and instead ended up loitering all night chatting up the cute young front desk guy and cute young security guy.
The desk guy was into me, although both were very flirtatious and I took him up on the offer of going to his place after his shift ended at 7AM. So we pulled an all-nighter together and proceeded to have this rapid ascent and decline of “booty call where I get treated like a girlfriend, so let me be sure to fuck this up before it gets any better.”
He was way too fresh off an ex, and mentioned she had depression and borderline personality issues. So, figured he could handle me! But I quickly developed an inferiority complex to her based on weight.
It started when he made breakfast that first morning. He asked if I wanted eggs; sure. Omelette? Sure. Ingredients? Whatever. So he slices small bits of leftover Easter ham and puts in shredded cheese.
Remark #1: “Wow, a girl who eats meat AND cheese!”
Ugh, just wanted to be a laid back houseguest. I was starving and hardly feeling fussy.
The following day, I find a Victoria’s Secret slip that was ex evidence. He’d said it was a clean break, so I let my eyes light up: “Hey, can I have that!”
“Well…..she was VERY small. I mean, like the size of a bug. I don’t want you to be disappointed. I mean, I’m not going to go trying on baby clothes.”
(Didn’t really know that, but I could tell by your leftover overpriced Vegan lubricant she was the reason for your “wow, you eat everything!” comment.)
The thing didn’t look like it would be THAT fucking small on me; like body fat oozing over it or my ripping it in the vain attempt to even try it on. I know I tried the same damn thing on at Vicky’s recently, most likely in a size small or “34B” The whole “you don’t try on kids clothes or baby clothes” analogy just added salt to the wound, because we were talking about a stretchy cotton sleep garment, not a fucking size 24 pair of jeans.
Comment #3: (During sex) “Oh, I love your thick hips.”
My later post-sex response: “Dude, I didn’t used to have hips. People used to ask if I was a ballet dancer and say they felt sorry for me whenever I had to go through childbirth.”
This guy claimed he had a foremerly bullimic sister and got “anxiety” when he caused girls stress over their weight, yet he repeatedly made comments that brought my briefly anorexic and long term borderline anorexic former self to the boiling point.
He’d try to salvage with typical backhanded (if you let them be) comments about my curves, bigger tits etc. But I just couldn’t let this inferiority complex of coming right after a super skinny girl fail to get under my skin. It got extremely deep under my skin.
The best analogy I can give is comparing a former anorexic to a recovering addict. If, like me, you’ve been to AA meetings, you’ll see the gung-ho old-timer who quit drinking at 16, yet goes to meetings and calls themself an alcoholic for the rest of their fucking life.
My body doesn’t look anorexic, because I’m semi-retired, or rather, not a “practicing” anorexic. But that doesn’t mean these emotional triggers don’t drive me bat shit crazy and that body image issues and eating disorders are something I’m in the clear from, just cause I resemble some happy BBW frolicking in a field of Dove real women self esteem. In fact, when I had outpatient therapy, I found it interesting that a girl with an eating disorder was in the “dual diagnosis” group, because the “substance” she abused was fucking FOOD.
Feeling fat compared to an ex pisses me off way more than any cliche backhanded compliment from strip club customers. I don’t care what strangers I’ll never see again think. I’m not sure why I cared so much with this guy; it’s just, for a weekend fling, he was treating me a lot like a girlfriend, spoiling me and acting really sweet and romantic.
Why I felt the need to compare myself to the other girl is a bit beyond me; I was really comparing myself to the “old me” that was as little as that girl; the girl he couldn’t seem to fathom comparing my body type with, even though it would be a legit comparison if you saw me in 2005 or earlier.
Here’s a PSA to people: when you go on an eating disorder bender, it’s very often motivated by A SINGLE COMMENT, however well-intentioned, let alone multiple comments that make you feel squeamishly big.
My friend who lost tons of weight, after being the happy-go-lucky, confident fat chick, attributes her dramatic weight loss to our mutual friends’ comment “You seem happy like you are….so why change?” Somehow, our friend casting her in the “happy fatass” light, but not in those words, motivated her.
I have counted my calories today and can see myself revving up the treadmill later using things he said this weekend as PURE MANTRA. Oh you have a little stomach cramp and wanna slow the treadmill down? Just replay in your head “She was REALLY small; I don’t want you to be disappointed trying that on” and you’ll be running 7.5mph in a hot second.
I’ve had those kinds of lines as dysfunctional motivators in the past. When I gained the freshman 15 and my Jewish mother figure said “You’re looking like the OLD (baby fat having) you.” I proceeded to lose 15 pounds in barely 6 weeks; we’re talking slim fast bar for breakfast and lunch, EZ mac for dinner, total calorie count of 700-800 per day with 1/2 hour of cardio every single night and some weights every other night. Dizzy every time you stand up. Not the emaciated 83 pounder of my 18 year old days, but back to the point of “gee, I’m almost dipping under 100 lbs, guess I can let myself go for ONE DAY so I’m at least in the triple digits.”
I used to use vegetarianism to mask my anorexia and give myself an excuse to refuse foods. A guy making a comment about what a good sport of an “equal opportunity eater” I am is meant as a compliment, but Christ…
I did my part in being hurtful toward him; I got angry drunk Saturday and acted like a bitch. I definitely put him on the spot with all the weight comments and exposed my insecurities bigtime.
So Friday night, we were watching sports and for a time, I went into his bedroom while he and his roommate stayed by the TV. I took that slip and ripped it into several pieces I was so resentful toward it and the blow to my self-confidence it caused.
Then, like an idiot (having already pulled a crazy bitch move), I decided to randomly tell him I’d done it while waiting to be sat for brunch yesterday. His ex and body image stuff came up again and I gave him crap for how his comment about that slip made me feel. I looked him dead on and impulsively said, “which is why that garment’s ripped to about five pieces at the bottom of your trash right now.”
That was just the trigger my self-destructive self-conscious was hoping to set off. Every time someone treats me well, misguided compliments aside, I make sure to act psycho and scare them off; I know it’ll happen eventually, so I go out of my way to get it over with. I’d already been bitchy to him Saturday night, and telling him I’d done that was the shoot-myself-in-the-foot outcome I was twistedly seeking. Instead of staying with him one last night before flying back out of town, I got myself kicked out for losing his trust and had to spend $90 on a Zipcar when I could have just spent more time having great sex and being treated like a queen.
Even after kicking me out (he had some work and friend betraying him issues on his plate also stressing him out) he was super nice about driving me “wherever I needed to go.”
“How’s the middle of the Tobin Bridge?” (I’m such a self-loathing bitch.)
When he dropped me at the garage to get my car, we had a super long hug and tiny kiss goodbye. It definitely made me sad, but also validated he’s a genuinely nice guy at the end of the day. He even said some kind of “talk to you soon” line, to which I replied, “That’s obviously YOUR move to make if you choose to make it.” I almost hope he does, but I’ve already cut my losses and gone back to my fucking four simultaneous sext conversations, not to mention scoping out a new marine prospect with a degree. Oh, and of course, getting back in touch with my psychotic borderline anorexic roots; 460 calories so far today! I’ll “save” my remaining 400 allowance for right before the gym tonight so I don’t pass out. Yesterday, it was so tense when I revealed my psycho move, we just left without sitting for brunch, so saved a few cals there!
This is the shit that happens when you make someone’s eating disorder side boil over. Shit like inspiring me to have a 20 Oz Diet Dr. Pepper as my afternoon snack and buying 45 calorie a slice bread to spray I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter zero calorie, chemical-laden shit on. Measuring fat free half and half in a tablespoon measurer, because God forbidd, I “free-poured” my creamer and couldn’t track the calories. I guess I’ll be living off of Chicken Noodle Soups, 300- Calorie Lean Cuisines, 60 Calorie Dannon Danimals things or Sugar Free Jello as “dessert” and Cliff bars for a while.
To add to the dysfunction, I console myself with the fact I willingly gave head and enjoyed doing it, unlike that other bitch, even making a snarky comment to the guy that “as someone who so CLEARLY isn’t bullimic, my gag reflex is minimal.” Crazy in bed, crazy in the head, as they say.