Skinny Minny

I'm struggling with my weight. Only not in the way most people do. Since Simon's arrival, and a bout with the flu, I've been wasting away. When Owen cuddles with me, he complains that my sharp angles aren't very comfy. What do you mean you don't want to snuggle into my pointy clavicle??!  I've always been teeny weeny, but had hoped turning 30 might bring a bit more junk to my trunk. My mom had always assured me that it was a metabolism thing and that 30 would be the magic number. Well, here I am-I'm thirty and still skinny minny.

I think most of us can appreciate all the reasons it's not ideal to be overweight. There's no shortage of T.V. doctors warning us against the health hazaards, and plenty of women feel crappy about themselves once they're north of a size 4. It's plain to see that 'battling the bulge' is a very real concern for a great number of people in North America. Well, being underweight is a very real concern to me and I can't possibly be the only one out there. Calling all my skinny sisters!

I can't imagine being insensitive and unkind enough to say to someone "Wow! You're so huge!" So, it's hard for me to understand why people feel comfortable looking me up and down and saying "Oh my God! You're so skinny!". In granting people the benefit of the doubt, I assume that they believe they're giving me a compliment. Still, I never know how to respond and, inevitably, stare awkwardly at them for a second before coming up with something. Depending on my mood, I either let them off the hook by saying 'thanks' and quickly changing the subject or, if I'm feeling like stirring the pot, I say 'yeah, it's the chronic diarrhea'. Now who feels awkward? (insert evil laugh here) I remember my eighth grade art teacher wrapping his fingers around my wrist and then recoiling and saying "You're SO SKIIIIIINNY!". Of course, this happened in front of a handful of my classmates making it all the more embarrassing to me. You'd think a middle school teacher would be more mindful of the self-esteem issues running rampant through kids at that age. With my frizzy hair and freckled face, I really could've used a leg up. What a jerk-face.

Nowadays I'm drinking those meal replacement shakes without actually replacing my meals, I'm seeing an acupuncturist every week and I've made an appointment with my family doc. So please, for the love of God, (and I'm talking to you, random supermarket woman) don't tell me to 'eat a sandwich'. The people who know me best would attest to the fact that my appetite is hearty. I can pack away so much food at a meal that family members have suggested that I'm sporting a hollow leg.  I'm like one of those 86lb girls who can win a hot dog eating contest year after year. Hmmm...is there much money to be made in competitive eating? Maybe a second career option for me, I do love wieners.