Alright, that’s it!  I need to vent.  Today we’re going to talk about a subject that really gets under my skin: douche baggery. Specifically, judgmental douche baggery aimed at fat people.

First, who’s got a smartphone? I’m betting some of you do. And I’m betting that some of you have those little “invisible shield” screen protectors on them. Am I right? For those of you who don’t have smart phones or are Amish (just kidd’in!), let me just explain that smart phone screens are glass…and very smooth. If you’re not super careful with your phone, it’s likely that the screen will come in contact with something in your handbag like your keys…or your switchblade (I’m not judging)  that will scratch that screen. Once that happens, tweeting things like “OMG this chick is totally farting her brains out!” from the ladies room at the mall can become a real chore. After the screen gets a good scratch, thumb typing just sucks.

I would think there are many smartphone users who know exactly what I’m talking about. (About the screen protector, not the chick in the bathroom). Further, one could assume that someone in the technology field would especially know about these…couldn’t one? Oh, yes, I think one could. So imagine my surprise when a techno-geek I don’t know very well asked to have a look at my phone and the following conversation ensued:

Geek: “Is that a Droid? Can I see it for a minute?? “

Me: “Um…suuuure…”

Geek: “Everyone I know has iPhones, including me, and I need to see how the operating sys-“

The Geek stops suddenly as she’s swiping her finger along my screen protector.

Geek: “Eeew! You’ve been eating candy again. It’s all sticky.”

Blink.

Stare.

Blink again.

WHAT????

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First, I’m going to TRY to ignore the fact that a person who works in technology and is responsible for developing apps for smart phones has apparently never seen a screen protector before. These screen protectors make the glass surface less slick – but they’re not sticky. I’m quite persnickety about that kind of thing. PLUS, I keep my phone sparkly clean!

Second, “You’ve been eating candy…” is ridiculous. This chick has never seen me eat candy – I guarantee that!!  In fact, I don’t think she’s ever seen me eat!  She hardly knows me! The fact that she slapped “again” in there made me steam’in mad. It was all I could do not to fling my phone at her like a ninja star. 

THWACK!!! 

I know what you’re thinking:  “Dianne, you knew this person before you decided to give up sugar and eat healthy. Tell us how you can be so absolutely sure she’s never seen you shoving Twix bars down your throat while you were stopped at an intersection?”

Well…I’m glad you asked that question – and the reason is simple:

Because of the Code.

Specifically, the Code we emotional eating Twinkie guzzlers live by. One of our commandments is Thou shalt not be seen eating high calorie foods in public, lest some nosy ass-munch ask you “uh oh, what happened to your diet”?

Let me explain.  When I was practicing the fine art of eating whatever I wanted and pretending not to care, I had a sure-fire strategy for making sure I was never seen with a candy bar or a pack of Ho Ho’s. In fact, I’ve lost track of how many times someone has said to me “How do you have a weight problem when I never see you eat?”  This fatty’s got skillz, yo.

For example, when I wanted a bag of chips or a candy bar at work, I would always buy from a vending machine that wasn’t on my floor. I figured it decreased the likelihood that I would run into a co-worker. I would also make a point to visit the vending machine only once a day. That may sound like I was trying to curb a bad habit, but don’t give me too much credit. I just didn’t want to have to walk back down there in the afternoon!  So I would just take $5 with me and stock up for the day. Yep!  I was that lazy.  I was also concerned about the embarrassment of being seen taking a couple bags of chips, three candy bars, and a pack of donuts back to my desk.

Of course, choosing not to buy 2,000 calories worth of crap to snack on would have been the logical choice.  Instead of common sense, I opted to take a brown paper Starbucks bag (the kind with the rope handles) on my morning trip to the vending machine. Then I’d load up and carry my crap back to my desk in the Starbucks bag, looking like a chubby hipster with a scone instead of the out of control mini donut guzzler I was. I would then dump my partially hydrogenated loot in a drawer and file the Starbucks bag away for the next day. As the day rolled by, I would hide whatever I was eating under a file folder.

So you see…I was quite skilled in keeping the wool pulled over people’s eyes. Combine that with the fact that I barely know this person and rarely see her and, well…I know she’s full of a crap.    I can’t say I’m that surprised, as her social skills have always been somewhat lacking.  

Whether the scale says 338 or 155 or something in between, I will never understand the judgments that get slapped on overweight people. “You’ve been eating candy again”….really? What are you basing this assumption on, Haggy Pants? Ugh!

I was briefly tempted to turn the judgmental tables on her. She has pretty bad skin (no doubt some kind of karma for her shitty attitude towards people). I desperately wanted to hurl back “Put down the meth pipe, honey…maybe THAT’S why your fingers are so sticky!”.  I did not, however.  Instead, I explained to her what an effing screen protector was.  Only then did she see the edges of it against the glass.   

This reminds me of the last time I walked into Victoria’s Secret, on a mission to pick up something a friend had on hold.  There was a sales-bimbo at the front the store arranging panties in a drawer, so I approached her for help.  She took one look at me and said “The big stuff’s in the back”.

Ugh!!!!  I vaguely remember saying something about “Thanks, but I don’t think they have any plus sized butt floss for girls like me.”  Seriously, I was eighteen hundred sizes too big for the biggest thong they had in stock.  Gimme a break!

Mmmhmm.  Some people just need a high five. In the face. With a chair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me…and the mug I bought myself when I hit the 40 pound weight loss mark. Yay!