Speaking of all this eating…

Back when I young and knew the soldier I just ate and ate and ate and unbeknownst to me (Venus Neptune) I got enormously fat. I just had no earthly idea I was overweight or that I could even be overweight, seeing as I grew up starving.

See, I was 17 and all the sudden for the first time in my life food was plentiful so what do you think I did? I ate! I ate and I ate and I ate and I ate. And I suppose I must have been growing all along but the soldier didn’t say anything. I guess he didn’t notice, didn’t care or both of those.

And it wasn’t like I was in the mirror all the time because I wasn’t. Matter of fact, we didn’t even own a full length mirror, but then one day I saw myself reflected in a window and boy did I flip! The material was strained on my waitress uniform… buttons ready to pop off. Yikes!

What follows is an account of what happened next, which I wrote 2003. It is full of swearing so don’t click if easily offended…

I went to my job (at an upscale department store restaurant) and standing in the back room I told the whole place I was fat, going on a diet and going to weigh myself on the huge commercial meat scale they had back there in front of God and everyone. The scale was enormous designed to weigh whole sides of beef.

“I won’t let you,” Rich said. Rich was the Hispanic cook who adored me. He was totally loving and protective of me while being a jerk to everyone else and no one knew why. “It’s my scale and I decide what gets weighed on it.”

“So? I can’t use it?” I said.

“I don’t want you too, Elsa. I do not want you doing that.”

“Why not? I can’t use your scale?” I asked him in way that challenged him. I was a cocky 17-year-old and if you’re going to tell me I can’t do something, well, you’d better have a reason.

“Why? It’s humiliating, that’s why. It’s a meat scale! You’re a woman, Elsa. You’re a great woman.”

“I know that. I know I’m a woman, but I’m fat! I’m a fat woman!”

“You don’t look that bad,” he said.

“I didn’t say I looked bad! I said I was fat! And crap! I can’t believe none of you told me,” I said, pointing to the buttons straining on my uniform. “Look at this crap! What the fuck? One of you fuckers could have said something. How come no one said anything while I just grow and grow and grow?”

People snickered and I laughed back. “Yeah, I know. Son of a bitch, look at me!”

More snickers.

“Elsa, I can’t let you do this,” Rich said, blushing. “That scale is for weighing huge packages of meat. That’s what it’s made for and I don’t want you on it. Especially with people watching. These people,” he added, waving his hand in disgust.

“No, it’s okay. A meat scale is what I need, Rich. Look at me! I’m a huge package of meat! I need to get rid of some of my meat. See? It’s perfect. Meat on a meat scale and I am not going to be humiliated. So can I do it? Can I use your scale?”

“Why don’t you just weigh yourself at home?”

“Well crap, Rich. If I had a scale at home do you think I’d be this fat and not know it? Come on! I don’t have a scale at home. I’m poor! Come on, Rich. For Godsakes, I really need to use your scale. You gotta let me. You just have to let me before these buttons pop right the fuck off.”

He laughed. “You’re serious? You really want to do this?”

“Obviously, yes! Yes, I’m serious, so can I? We’ll all weigh me every day. See how I’m doing, okay? Come on Rich. Really, this is what I want to do. I’ll lose weight, you guys can help and everyone can clap when I do.” (Venus in Leo ;-))

“If you don’t lose, you’ll be humiliated,” he said.

“Well, I will lose, I will. Are you kidding?”

One of the other servers said, “Just let her use your scale, and stop being such a prick!” They all hated, Rich. I was the only waitress he did not abuse.

He scowled at her and then waved his hand at me. “Suit yourself. If this is what you want, then do it.” He shook his head and smiled because he couldn’t help himself. “You’re crazy, Elsa. You’re the craziest woman I have ever known. What the hell is the matter with you?”

I smiled smugly. “Okay, then. So will you help me?” I asked him.

“Okay, yes I’ll help you. But you better be serious. Don’t ask me for any food. If you do I won’t give it to you.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

On that, we shook hands. One of the other waitresses promised to guard the bread. They had some seriously good bread at this place. It was to die for and I’d know, I ate it all day long…

Blah blah blah, the rest of the story. I lost 63 pounds and Rich whistled when I came to work. The soldier swears I was never overweight for a minute. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, P.” ::rolls eyes::

And the postcard pictured? That’s actually from the era. One of the other waitresses gave it to me and I kept it all these years.

Have you ever had your appearance change when you weren’t looking? Where’s your Neptune?