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Please Don’t Ask Me if I’ve Lost Weight

Cross-posted at Pink Scare .

For one thing, I don’t know if I have. On my best days, I could say I really don’t care if I did lose weight. Other days, I can at least be honest and tell you I don’t keep a scale around so that I can’t obsess about weight, and honestly, I don’t know. On my worst days I could at least say I’m not sure because knowing things like that becomes too consuming and I don’t want to be consumed by it.

For another thing, while I know you think you’re making me feel good, you’re really just letting my sick mind know that you thought I looked fat before, enough so that now you think I look different enough that it bears pointing out. It feels like a back handed compliment, whether you wanted it to or not.

For another thing, you say it with this proud grin on your face, which immediately reminds me how much you value thinness, and how hard it is for me to make myself not care about it, when I’ve grown up around people like you and in a culture that makes you seem so normal. And, no matter how strong I was feeling that day, it immediately makes me question whether I should be valuing thinness just a little bit more.

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