After our family nap this afternoon, my husband suggested we get the heck out of the house and go do something! I was wearing a cute outfit, my hair looked okay, and I was feeling like going out. We decided to grab a bite to eat at our favorite little Fresh Salsa Mexican restaurant and treat ourselves to a small ice cream.
While we were there, I noticed a small group of teenage guys who were acting their age, but it didn't bother me at all. My family and I just kept to ourselves and enjoyed our family outing. After eating half of my burrito (my two year old ate more than me, so that was good!), I started heading to the soda machine to get my son some more water. The group of guys arrived at the same time I did, so I flashed a smile and backed up so that they could go first. They appeared to be in their own little world and I wasn't in a hurry. I got the water, walked to our van and started settling in our boys.
I reached over to lay our leftovers onto the floor when I heard it..."Woo-hoo look at me (unintelligible), I'm a WHALE! Check out the whale. Tee-hee-hee-hee ha ha ha ha ha...".
OMG. Did that really just happen? A car carrying the gaggle of teenage boys fled past our van and sped away with cheers and fits of laughter as they hung their heads out the windows. Mortified, I asked my husband, "What did they say?" as if I hadn't heard. He also chose to play dumb, probably guarding my feelings (thanks Honey) and denied understanding the yelling.
I'm telling you, I have finally earned my Black Belt, my PhD in embarrassing moments. People around here are just not used to seeing overweight people. The truth of the matter is that I live in a very yuppy, wealthy area full of woman who would rather work out five times a day at their $300 a month gyms than stay at home and take care of their children. The overweight people are forced into hiding in fear of being made fun of and stared at.
I was mortified. I was called a whale. In public. In front of my whole family. People are so cruel.
Normally I would stew and fester inside while desperately trying to plan my next fast food run so I could place an order for $10 worth of fried, greasy band-aids to heal the pain. But, this time, I called my best friend, ooohed and awwwed about what had happened and I feel totally over it already. Moving right along...
(UPDATE: I am now covered in hives. Weird. Maybe I am more bothered by my experience than I am aware!? I'm not really thinking about it anymore, so I don't really understand how there could be a possible connection.)