There are very few things that set me off faster than overhearing a conversation between two people where one of them says to the other, "Ugh, I shouldn't." And the other responds with, "Oh right, like you have anything to worry about!"
Ladies and gentlemen can I get a volunteer from the audience to HOLD MY HAIR WHILE I VOMIT PLEASE?!?!
This retort is a striking match on the yesterday's news pages of my brain. Once heard everything else becomes background noise to the inferno going on in my head.
People, unless you are half of a Siamese twin where your twin eats Twinkies from sun up to sun down while you huff and puff the both of you around the block to run off those spongy bricks of heaven - you have absolutely zero right to assume the person you are talking to does not, in fact, have something to worry about where their food intake is concerned.
You simply, unless you spend 24 hours day in and day out with this person, do. not. know.
You cannot know their diet, their choices or what's in their cupboards to choose from.
You cannot know their budget, their want to buy healthier foods but their limitation in doing so.
You cannot know if she changed her outfit twice that morning while getting ready for work because the first two would barely button or felt like they were cutting off her ability to exhale.
You cannot know if she baked cookies the night before and ate four while only letting her kids have one - and her guilt over doing so.
You cannot know that she hurt her knee last week and hasn't been able to workout in a way that makes her feel better for four days now.
You. simply. cannot. know.
I wear a size eight in almost everything. Sometimes I can do a six if it's a dress or something that doesn't require a fit over my quads or a tight fit in the shoulders and lats. My wedding dress was a size eight. It was taken in in a few places but after zipping into the six I absolutely knew I was not going to be one of those brides who freaked out about eating because I "might not fit into my dress if I do."
I wanted to get married as I was. Not as I hoped to be.
So yes, I still wear the same size now as I did 20 years ago when I got married. Many people who have known me for years have made this (atrocious) comment to me at one time or another. "Oh you don't look a pound over the weight you were 20 years ago, what do you have to worry about?"
But those people don't watch me inhale Peanut M&M's like I'm trying to single-handedly raise the stock in Mars Corp. either. Those people haven't ever seen the screen of my Fitbit tell me my heart rate max was 208 on my last workout.
208?! Do you know what 208 is? It's one step down from cardiac arrest, I'm certain.
It's breathing slowly to talk your bile down off the ledge of your throat where it's currently threatening to jump forcefully.
And I will workout to that point because my Facebook bio says I can eat a row of Oreos faster than anyone I know and MY FACEBOOK BIO IS NOT A LIAR, PEOPLE!
I can. I do and therefore - I worry.
And therefore - I work. Out. Like a maniac.
...And therefore, I still wear the same size as my wedding dress.
So the next time I, or anyone else, refuses that next glass of wine, that Christmas cookie or sharing a dessert; the next time your girlfriend orders a salad when you ordered pasta or the next time your sister tells you she joined a new fitness class - resist the urge to utter that asinine, "oh what do you have to worry about," question as your reply. Follow their lead, support them, applaud them or simply raise your own glass and salute their willpower while you enjoy the finer thing that you are so clearly not worried about.