Happy Friday, all!
I had a very uneventful week. After turning in the edits for a manuscript I was working on Tuesday, I spent the rest of the week bumming around in my PJs.
Nothing makes you feel more like a quarter-life-crisis sufferer than not getting dressed for a week.
But shit happens, like receiving a very not-so-lovely letter from a family member about my recent weight gain. Thank you, I hadn’t noticed. So, I was in a pretty bad emotional space.
But like my family is want to do, the news of said letter spread through the gossip line, and I got a resounding show of support which was nice.
I also don’t fault said family member for what was said. Was it rude? Yes. Do they understand that it’s really out of my control at the moment? No.
Here’s a person who has spent their whole life acutely aware of their weight; and in my 26 years of life, this person has always been on some diet or another. I’m pretty sure their self-worth is inextricably tied to their waistline.
Really, that’s a shitty existence and not how my life works. I may be overweight at the moment, but my doctors have assured me that once I get my thyroid under control, the weight will come off.
And besides, I’m not all that worried about it. I’ve been through the ringer of testing to see where my health stands; and you know what? Despite carrying extra weight, I’m healthier than most people I know.
My cholesterol, glucose, blood pressure, and various other health readings all came out to be well within the normal range. I’m not even borderline unhealthy on anything.
So maybe I’m going through a heavier moment in my life.
I’m being proactive about it, and I am healthy.
So yes, concerned family member. I’ve gained a bit of weight. I’m okay with it, because I know it’s temporary and I’m healthy.
You, on the other hand, will continue to be wrapped up in not only what your own scale reads, but apparently mine too.
Well you can go ahead and do that. I have more important things to worry about and refuse to spend another day bothered by your words.