When You Get Called Fat

Last night I got all dolled up and went out with my friends. We pregamed and put on little dresses and fixed our hair & makeup while sweating in the mirror just because we wanted to do it together. It was crazy fun. We went out, we danced, we were merry.

 

It was meant to be a crazy night out with the girls & it was.

 

But on our way home we encounted a 8 out of 10 douchebag who kind of ruined the night for me. Because now whenever I think of it, I'll think about being told to "hit the treadmill and come back and talk to me."

 

You get dressed up. You think about how cute you look and even though you're not on a mission to find Mr. Right, you could find Mr. Right Now & you've dressed the part to do so. You wear your one shouldered dress, do your hair all sexy and slip on those metallic sandals. Even though you know you're not the stick figure that many of these other girls are, you've worked hard for this body, so you're going to rock it.

 

But when you get called fat, 10 years slips away and you're that 16 year old girl again without any self esteem. The 15 pounds that you've work so hard to lose over the last 8 months is completely meaningless and you find yourself crying outside of Cluck-U. Knowing that if you don't eat something, you're going to get sick, but if you do eat something you're prooving that asshole right.

 

I wish I had thought quick on my feet. I wish I had a better comback than "F*** you, bastard!"

 

It happened like this...

 

We were walking home, on our way to stop by Cluck-U to be sure that none of us vommed. As we passed The Grasshopper the douche tried to talk to us. Asking us to stop. So I just say, kindly "make it quick, we're going home." and he said "I was wondering where you girls were going." so I responded "We're going home, have a good night." And that's when he responded with "hit the treadmill and come back and talk to me."

 

Now the better responses I could have had are...

 

"I see that your charm has helped you to get lots of chicks as you're catcalling on a street corner."

"I prefer the eliptical or kickboxing, but thanks for the recommendation."

"thanks for confirming how much a douche you are."

"Oooo please let me loose 50 pounds and come running back to your busted ass."

 

and so on. but instead.

 

"F*** you, bastard."

 

Because like I said, when I heard those words I became 16 again. I was getting harassed in the hallways. I was getting told that the reason I wasn't elected class president was because no one wanted to see me roll onto the stage. I wasn't getting asked to dances. I was being laughed at during talent shows. Gone were 10 whole years of becoming a better stronger me, who doesn't care what people think. I retreated back into a person that I fought tooth and nail to get away from.

 

And that happens every time someone calls me fat. It means barely anything to you & everything to me.

 

Can they smell that fear? Is that why they pull the most viscious punch? Do they know?

 

Do they know the best and fastest way to break me?

 

I'll be ok. I'll be fine. I'll get over this and be stronger and move on with my life. I'll wake up tomorrow and the mini-depression that's set in today will be gone. I'll eat better & work out tomorrow. I'll get back on track... tomorrow. But today I'm going to wallow. Today I'm allowed to wallow because my heart got a little broken last night.

 

Essentially, that guys is nothing to me. But he ruined my night. And in Jersey, we find that unforgivable.