As well, doing research for a client, I stumbled upon something called the "Teachable Moment", which is a moment when something happens that alters your thinking about a very important behavior. When it comes to women and their weight, these teachable moments supposedly happen up to 3 times a day. Which is good in that it provides us a lot of moments to learn from. But on the other hand, it's like our mothers got together and passed on their nagging capabilities to the inanimate objects in our lives...It's on the days that I find myself telling the store window, car window or dressing room mirror to fuck off that I've know I've reached my limit of teachable moments (on that subject and on that day anyway).
Here's the thing--most of the time I can laugh and learn from those moments and I'm happy to say that I'm actively engaged in creating a 'me' that won't be caught in front of a Nordstroms window cursing it with a string of profanity likely to cause the writers on Family Guy to curl up shaking in fetal positions. But there are moments that just fucking kill me--I mean grit my teeth, burst into tears, eat chocolate and KFC mashed potatoes with gravy kill me. Two examples to follow.
First, not too long ago my daughter asked me to come read to her class. I said I would and she went on talking about what I needed to know, do and not to do. I was nodding along until she mentioned that it would be her job to tell her friends not laugh and hurt my feelings. I asked her to re-wind and she explained that she didn't want her friends to laugh at me because I'm fat. Damn. I went from 'fluffy mama' to embarrasing in one single instant. These are the moments that remind me for all of the right reasons...health, family, responsibility.
There there are those like in example number two. This weekend, opening night of the Opera season, our 14th wedding anniversary outing to La Boheme and the (supposedly) extra special "Montemarte Experience". Strolling outside at intermission with a glass of champagne, looking at the skylights and the mini-Eiffle Tower they had put up, surrounded by caricaturists there to capture us in all of our black-tie glory-with a hint of humor. Well, he might of thought it was funny, but there was a reason my husband moved us away from the 'artiste' rather quickly. I went from feeling seriously curvaciously, Rubenesquely hot to Carol Channing drag-queen in two seconds flat. I mean, the guy took extra time to put in the four double chins and tiny beady eyes. These are the teachable moments that remind me for all of the wrong--or vain--reasons why I want to lose some poundage--how other people see me.(Luckily, with a few well placed gropes and solid kisses from my tattooed hotty of a husband I was quickly back on track and we had a really lovely, funny, loving night despite said artist and some surprisingly bad food.)
But back to the issue at hand. Here's where I net out: These teachable moments, whether right or wrong, positive or negative, meant or not meant--they are a tool in my ongoing fight with myself and my body. I just have to learn which ones are more effective tools for me. Secondly, my weight is about more than me--it's about time I faced up to that. And finally and in some ways, most importantly, I need to get over it. For too long it has been too much a part in how I define myself and how I've let, even demanded, others define me. Seriously, I can imagine that for those of my friends and family who don't see the weight first, that it's downright boring.
So I guess the next time I catch a glance of myself in the window and wonder who that person is, the answer is simply, me.
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