The Invisible Black Woman

So, I planned to write about a completely different topic today, but the day took a sharp turn. Yesterday, I met up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We’d tried connecting a few times before, but timing never quite synced up. But things fell into place yesterday and we were able to meet up. I’ll be honest, I was nervous. I told hubby as much.

“I’m kind of nervous.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’ve gained weight since the last time they saw me. I’m embarrassed.”

“Oh no! You’ll be fine. They’re not like that. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking it. It’ll be nice to see them.”

“Of course it will. You’ll have a great time.”

Since putting on the extra weight, I changed up my wardrobe. Actually, it was shortly after the pandemic subsided (kinda) and we had to go in the office more. I still wanted to look nice but without feeling self-conscious. So I went on Amazon and got some new outfits that were essentially all the same, just different colors, patterns, and designs. They were a hit, and I got so many compliments that it did wonders for my self-esteem.

I have, thankfully—despite it being nearly two years ago—not had to size up. All the outfits still fit and I still get a slew of compliments when I rock ‘em. One outfit in particular is my power outfit. Y’all know the one. No matter how bad a day it is, that’s the one you’re gonna put on. Or, if you need a little extra boost of confidence. Without fail, whenever I have worn it, I get a bunch of compliments.

Who doesn’t love a good ego boost?

So the outfit I planned to wear was a no-brainer. I put on my power outfit and picked up my friend and we headed to breakfast.

We were excited to see each other and she commented on my hair because it looked different, but that was the extent. But I know I’m nothing if not notorious for reading into stuff I shouldn’t. Although more often than not, the things I read into are actually exactly what I think them to be. So I had a brain gnat. That’s what I call those annoying thoughts in the back of my head. That brain gnat kept buzzing around, telling me that the weight gain was way more pronounced than I realized and that it completely overshadowed the outfit. I’m not even gonna lie, I felt myself feel self-conscious, but I continued to brush it off.

We had a good time at breakfast catching up and then after, I headed home. I still felt kinda awkward, but honestly, I was sure it was in my head and that is all.

This morning, thirty minutes before I’m about to jump into a meeting, my friend calls.

“Hi!”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning!”

“I need to talk to you.”

Oh boy.

You could feel the tone shift and it went from cordial and bright to super serious.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything is okay, but I need to talk to you.”

They were saying it was okay, but the tone hadn’t shifted from one that made me worry.

“Okay, sure, I have a meeting at 10.”

“Oh, that’s plenty of time. It won’t take that long.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m extremely, extremely concerned about your health.”

“Oh.”

“I want to help you. Whatever you need from me. If you need someone to help you be accountable. I’m just really, really worried about you. I don’t want you to end up like Caroline.”

Caroline was a mutual friend of ours that was no longer with us and who at the time of her passing was overweight. I will note that while that was a complication, it was not the cause of death.

“I just know if Caroline had lost the weight, she’d still be here.”

“But I don’t have high blood pressure, diabetes. I’m just overweight.”

“I know, but I want you to live as long as possible. I want to help you get the weight off.”

For much of the rest of the conversation, I’d checked out. I honestly wished for a time machine that would take me back to before I reached out to ask if she wanted to grab breakfast and stop myself from sending the text message. Not because I didn’t want to see her, but because of how absolutely mortified I was. The entire time she spoke, I told myself I couldn’t cry because I had a meeting at the top of the hour. Any emotions would have to wait. And that is just what I did.

I got off the phone and in my true usual fashion, I whipped out my cape and I got ready for my call. Not a single person was the wiser and both meetings, which were back to back, went off without a hitch. I would go so far as saying I knocked them out of the park.

Please don’t get me wrong. I know they meant well. That is the nature of most good intentions that are actually very hurtful. But it gutted me. If y’all have kept up with any of my posts, my struggles with my weight is not something I have shied away from. I speak about it very candidly and about the challenges I have had to lose weight. Things that this friend is well aware of.

Can I let you in on a little secret? Every person who is overweight knows they are overweight. This isn’t news to them. I have tried every fad, every diet known to man. I have been tested, I have done a clinical study. You name it, I have tried it.

Is there room for improvement? Absolutely. But now, on the heels of everything I and hubby have somehow managed to survive. Now was not the time to be seen as one Twinkie away from my demise.

Of course, I couldn’t help but wonder what was reported back about my appearance to mutual acquaintances and I was ever so grateful that at least—far as I know—there was no photographic evidence of my current condition.

Just that quickly, I mentally flashed back to my childhood. To the incessant taunts from my father, who teased me mercilessly about his inherited nose. Or my siblings, who thought it was funny to take jabs at my fluffier appearance. I was always the bigger of the bunch and I never quite felt like I belonged when I looked at them and compared myself.

As I got older, the jokes evolved to “hey, Skinny.” Or to actual pokes at the not-so-well-defined parts of my body. When I finally “filled out” in my late teens, I didn’t get teased so much. But then the surgeries started and my weight began creeping upwards in my late twenties. I haven’t liked what I see in the mirror for the better part of a decade. And no, I’m not in denial that it will magically melt away.

All I’m saying is that weight loss and struggling with weight is fucking hard. Yes, I used the F word—sue me. Please give the people around you who are doing the very best they can some grace.