weight liberation

I rarely learn genuinely new things about my closest friends. We talk nearly nonstop when we are together and all suffer from extreme honesty, but occasionally, you have those moments with your friends where honesty about something leads to a sense of expansion, not just in your friendship but also for yourself.

Saturday night, my friend Razor and I went out for a friend's birthday. Like most late night events that involve coordinating multiple portions of the evening and lots of different people, it was a slight clusterfuck in terms of logistics, but I had a blast. As we wrapped up the evening eating delicious late night pizza in the Gayborhood on the steps of some fancy building, we somehow got into a discussion about weight.

Weight is a funny and awkward thing. My friends know pretty much everything about me, from my sexual stories to the way my crying face looks, but until quite recently, did not know my weight. Two of my closest friends are almost exactly my same height; we all wear the same pants size. But evidently, our weights are drastically different. And as the person at the heaviest weight, I feel like a whale.

But as the one universally described as the strong one who does the heavy lifting AND the one with the big boobs and butt, I don't know why it's such a shock that I'm denser than they are. I guess somehow in my head I'm still attached to the idea of my eating disordered self, where I was always the tiniest by a long shot and so thin and lithe and itsy bitsy.

Talking weight with Razor made me realize there is something really liberating about sharing something that I hold so tightly and secretly to my obnoxiously large chest. More importantly, there is something incredibly freeing about sharing that info and not having it impact her opinion of me one damn bit.

Are you secretive about your weight? Or do you always under-report it by 5 pounds? Talk to me.

Much love,
The Sheriff




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