bullies come in all sizes

This last move has resulted in some unexpected/unintended consequences. One is a recent weight loss. And although trying to find jeans that fit has become an almost impossible task, I’m pretty happy about it. So why is it that some people think they have a right (or even a mandate) to comment on my size? I realize the one who said, “You’re too thin, are you ok?” had my best interest at heart; after being assured that my health is not an issue, said, “OK, as long as you’re happy.” Then there’s the four-foot-tall-size-zero-raven-haired-beauty who said, “Well it’s about time you lost some weight! But of course you’ll gain it all back before State Conference.” The smirk on her face let me know it was not said in jest.  (This person delights in finding ways to hurt people, rarely says anything nice about anyone other than members of her own family, and never says anything good about anything she wasn’t totally responsible for doing, as, of course, anyone else falls miserably short of her grandiose expectations of how things should be, and never loses an opportunity to make sure you know what an utter failure you are. Yes, we all know someone like that. So I just chalked it up to her being her and went on about my business.) And then there’s the person who asked, “Were you trying to lose weight, or are you just lucky?” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so just smiled and walked away. But it makes me wonder about the folks who actually struggle with weight. For me it’s never been a real issue, even pregnancy did not cause much of a gain and I lost the pounds and inches within a few months. Later in life, if my jeans got a little too tight, and the muffin top a little too prominent, I knew that cutting back on bread and potatoes would mean dropping a few pounds. Not that I think I was ever overweight to begin with, staying only a few pounds over what I weighed at high school graduation. OK, that was 52 years ago, but still it was comfortable then for my height and my age and my body mass index was within range, and my health was good; so now I’m a few pounds under that same number, but it’s comfortable for my height and age and my body mass index is within normal range and my health is good. At this point I’m grateful that most people don’t pay attention to me at all, and for the most part, those who do, refrain from comment. But for those who think they are obligated to comment on my weight, or my height, or my hairstyle/clothes/shoes/jewelry/makeup, while I hear what you say, I do not listen. Go find someone else to bully. I will defend to the death your right to speak your mind, but your right stops at my nose. And my toes. And my size.