My Two Least Favorite Places
As an overweight woman, I struggle mightily with two different public scenarios.
The first is eating out, because I always feel like the wait staff is judging me. If I order an appetizer to precede my sandwich and fries, will he or she eye me critically while thinking to themselves, “She needs that order of cheese sticks about as much as I need a hole in my head”? Or will that person just snicker as I walk in, gleeful in the knowledge my tab will be higher and thus warrant a greater tip? And if this is true, do restaurant workers look at me, and people like me, as suckers?
Having thoughts like these are pointless, I know, but I still have them all the same. And they instill within me a sense of shame that makes eating out an almost painful process.
I find myself second-guessing everything I order.
"Should I have gotten water instead of soda?"
"Would a salad be more healthful than a sandwich wrap?"
"Would it really have hurt me to order a side of broccoli instead of mashed potatoes?"
But all the while as these questions dance in my headpart of me is pleased I decided on a cheeseburger, because I love food and, really, what’s the point if I can’t enjoy it?
#2. Clothing Stores
The other situation that sends me into spasms of displeasure is trying on clothes in the department store.
For some reason, I always look slightly thinner in the mirrors at home than I do in those of the fitting rooms. It’s been several years since I’ve reached this conclusion, and now it’s so ingrained in my head that I avoid trying on clothes like the plague. In fact, I am much more willing to purchase a shirt, take it home, try it on there and scrutinize myself and then return it at a later date if I don’t like it than to just do all of this in the store and save myself the added trouble.
I hate mirrors, but none more than those in stores.
At the bottom of these dreaded events is nothing more than a lack of security in myself. Certainly I know who I am and am secure in knowing what I want out of life. What I’m insecure about, however, is how others perceive me.
I hate thinking that I’m always judged on how I look, but the reality is this is true to some extent. Our faces and bodies are the first things people see, so it’s only natural to assume they formulate opinions based on what’s visible.
If I had my way, I would be completely secure in how I look, without worrying everyday about a fat roll showing through my shirt or whether or not I need to try harder to lose weight. Equally important, I would like to find somebody to love who loves me back and is enamored with my appearance; a man who never looks twice at other women and views me as the world’s lone perfect creature.
Is that too much to ask?
Or am I just like any other woman, eager to give and receive love without regard for the “ideal” body type or the “right” size jeans?
By the way, my diet went completely out the window this week. I’ve eaten popcorn for lunch on several occasions and haven’t yet kicked the soda habit. I guess there’s always tomorrow to start all over again.