I did not wake up any different than any other day today. I did not make any specific attempts to be perky, nor sad. However, on the way in to work, the sun was shining, I put some "old school" NSYNC in the CD player and put my sunglasses on. It felt good to be warm and it felt good to see the brightness all around me. I thought, you know, this day might not suck. I am going to go into it with no malice or pessimism and see what the day brings.
My plan of letting a calm, pleasant day happen went out the window by noon. I was just sitting at my desk on my lunch hour, checking out Facebook and whatnot when someone starts to message me telling me about something she had found. It led to what I thought was a conversation about writing styles, blogs, etc. It wasn't too long in and I was feeling like this person was on the defensive. I was just speaking in general terms, but this person, as I was perceiving it, was getting a little offended. I said I wasn't trying to offend anyone, just commenting. Then, I felt like I was being attacked. For crying out loud, so much for casual conversation, I tapped out. I turned my attention over to my Facebook and notice some people were getting offended by a post I had put up earlier about feeling like Godzilla next to this really petite girl at work. I wasn't saying anything bad about the petite girl. I like her. I wasn't saying anything bad about myself. I kind of like me, depends on the day. I wasn't saying, "OMG, I'm such a fatty, I look huge next to her," I was just saying I felt huge next to her. It's just my humor, just how I roll. Now people are telling me to shut up, people are telling me how that skinny girl might not like her body either. Okay, WHOA. I never said anything bad about her, I said she was tiny and petite. I didn't mention her name, I could have been talking about anyone. Now, perception is, I'm being mean. WTF? News flash, if I'm going to be mean to someone, you will know, there will not be questions about if I meant it.
Now, it's time for the staff meeting. I walk in and Car Salesman Magoo has brought in his daughter's Girl Scout cookies. For once, he isn't selling them, he is just sharing. At first I was like, oh, I sure as hell don't need those and so I passed them along to the next person. Seems like no one really wanted any due to everyone is watching their weight. Car Salesman Magoo was very angry about this. He clearly thinks dieting is stupid. Next thing I know, the cookies are coming back around. I saw they were thin mints. Yum! Those are my favorite! I said, "Well, maybe I will have one." Smarty Pants Malone says, "Oh no, you don't need those." Then, Thong Barbie grabs the box and says, "No." I was pissed. Let me just get the following Fat Girl Public Service Announcement (FGPSA) off my chest right now:
I had weight loss surgery. I didn't lose my mind. I am not incapable of making decisions for myself. I know what is good food and bad food. I do not need YOU or anyone else telling me what I do or do not need, what I can or cannot have or what I should or should not eat. I don't need your help. And, if you say things like, "Oh, let's go get a donut...oh, wait, YOU can't have that." I'm going to be pissed. I don't even want a fucking donut, but I can make the choice myself. I don't need you to regulate me. Yes, I know I'm fat. Yes, I know I need to lose weight. Yes, I know what foods are good and bad. Yes, I am able to make decisions for myself. I don't need you to tell me. Can't everyone just treat me like a normal person? Yes, I have said don't bring crap to my desk. Yes, I have said, don't give me chocolate anymore, but if I choose to have ONE MOTHER TRUCKING GIRL SCOUT COOKIE, it's my choice and you know what? I CAN! It's one cookie, not the whole box. One cookie is a reasonable choice. One cookie is a human choice. Get off your pedestal and give me a break. Don't judge me. Don't put your rules and expectations on me. I'm capable of making life choices, even though you don't think I am. And, I know these people love me and they care and they want to help, but these types of comments are judgmental, they are humiliating and condescending. It's not okay. Don't do it to me again.
With the FGPSA out of my way, I will tell you, when they were playing "keep the box away from Cassondra," I got mad and I told them their behavior was not okay and that I didn't appreciate it. I think that hurt Thong Barbie's feelings, because I know she would never be mean to me, but I need people to hear me and see me and understand. I don't want to be singled out or "handled." Lord knows, Will has his hands full trying to handle what he can of me. For the record, I had one cookie and that was satisfying enough, it was fine. I didn't need more. Asshats.
So, survived the staff meeting. I get back to my desk and then Alligator Horse Guy starts pinging me about where he is going to sit when we relocate to the other side of the building. Since I am the move coordinator for our group, people have questions and I don't mind answering them. But then, Alligator Horse Guy starts getting a little intense about what space he needs. He doesn't like the answers I'm providing him. I'm telling him I don't have all the plans finalized yet, but I will work on it. I was kind of getting worked up about it. What the hell is everyone picking on me for? Is this what positive energy buys me? Screw that. Finally, Alligator Horse Guy comes over to my desk and assures me he was not trying to be a dirtbag. I believed him, he's good people. He was forgiven.
Feeling a little out of sorts, I headed down to the gym, I mean, MY GOD, I had ONE freaking Girl Scout cookie, how in the world was I EVER going to work that off? I looked at my workout shirt, clearly stolen from Will, and it says on the back, "Do I Look Like A Freaking People Person To You?" I smiled a little and said out loud in the locker room I was sharing with no one, "No, I don't."
So, what I think about all of this is that the universe isn't ready for me to have a bright and sun-shiny day. It doesn't want me to be full of hope and love. It's all bullshit. No more. Tomorrow, I'll go in and treat people accordingly. Today I left myself vulnerable. It won't happen again.
And, I don't need the drama or controversy, I'll just remember I don't give a shit and I won't tell them what my opinion is. I will just tell them what they want to hear. Tomorrow, if you come up to me and are covered with dog shit and ask me how you look, I will tell you that you look Fan-fucking-tastic! Maybe a brown ribbon in your hair will compliment that smelly brown color on your shirt! If you want to know if your email sounded okay, or if it needs tweaking, I will say it sound like fucking poetry. If you ask me if I want to buy fucking Girl Scout cookies, you could lose a testicle.
Who's happy about Wednesday? Not this girl, that is for damn sure.
My plan of letting a calm, pleasant day happen went out the window by noon. I was just sitting at my desk on my lunch hour, checking out Facebook and whatnot when someone starts to message me telling me about something she had found. It led to what I thought was a conversation about writing styles, blogs, etc. It wasn't too long in and I was feeling like this person was on the defensive. I was just speaking in general terms, but this person, as I was perceiving it, was getting a little offended. I said I wasn't trying to offend anyone, just commenting. Then, I felt like I was being attacked. For crying out loud, so much for casual conversation, I tapped out. I turned my attention over to my Facebook and notice some people were getting offended by a post I had put up earlier about feeling like Godzilla next to this really petite girl at work. I wasn't saying anything bad about the petite girl. I like her. I wasn't saying anything bad about myself. I kind of like me, depends on the day. I wasn't saying, "OMG, I'm such a fatty, I look huge next to her," I was just saying I felt huge next to her. It's just my humor, just how I roll. Now people are telling me to shut up, people are telling me how that skinny girl might not like her body either. Okay, WHOA. I never said anything bad about her, I said she was tiny and petite. I didn't mention her name, I could have been talking about anyone. Now, perception is, I'm being mean. WTF? News flash, if I'm going to be mean to someone, you will know, there will not be questions about if I meant it.
Now, it's time for the staff meeting. I walk in and Car Salesman Magoo has brought in his daughter's Girl Scout cookies. For once, he isn't selling them, he is just sharing. At first I was like, oh, I sure as hell don't need those and so I passed them along to the next person. Seems like no one really wanted any due to everyone is watching their weight. Car Salesman Magoo was very angry about this. He clearly thinks dieting is stupid. Next thing I know, the cookies are coming back around. I saw they were thin mints. Yum! Those are my favorite! I said, "Well, maybe I will have one." Smarty Pants Malone says, "Oh no, you don't need those." Then, Thong Barbie grabs the box and says, "No." I was pissed. Let me just get the following Fat Girl Public Service Announcement (FGPSA) off my chest right now:
I had weight loss surgery. I didn't lose my mind. I am not incapable of making decisions for myself. I know what is good food and bad food. I do not need YOU or anyone else telling me what I do or do not need, what I can or cannot have or what I should or should not eat. I don't need your help. And, if you say things like, "Oh, let's go get a donut...oh, wait, YOU can't have that." I'm going to be pissed. I don't even want a fucking donut, but I can make the choice myself. I don't need you to regulate me. Yes, I know I'm fat. Yes, I know I need to lose weight. Yes, I know what foods are good and bad. Yes, I am able to make decisions for myself. I don't need you to tell me. Can't everyone just treat me like a normal person? Yes, I have said don't bring crap to my desk. Yes, I have said, don't give me chocolate anymore, but if I choose to have ONE MOTHER TRUCKING GIRL SCOUT COOKIE, it's my choice and you know what? I CAN! It's one cookie, not the whole box. One cookie is a reasonable choice. One cookie is a human choice. Get off your pedestal and give me a break. Don't judge me. Don't put your rules and expectations on me. I'm capable of making life choices, even though you don't think I am. And, I know these people love me and they care and they want to help, but these types of comments are judgmental, they are humiliating and condescending. It's not okay. Don't do it to me again.
With the FGPSA out of my way, I will tell you, when they were playing "keep the box away from Cassondra," I got mad and I told them their behavior was not okay and that I didn't appreciate it. I think that hurt Thong Barbie's feelings, because I know she would never be mean to me, but I need people to hear me and see me and understand. I don't want to be singled out or "handled." Lord knows, Will has his hands full trying to handle what he can of me. For the record, I had one cookie and that was satisfying enough, it was fine. I didn't need more. Asshats.
So, survived the staff meeting. I get back to my desk and then Alligator Horse Guy starts pinging me about where he is going to sit when we relocate to the other side of the building. Since I am the move coordinator for our group, people have questions and I don't mind answering them. But then, Alligator Horse Guy starts getting a little intense about what space he needs. He doesn't like the answers I'm providing him. I'm telling him I don't have all the plans finalized yet, but I will work on it. I was kind of getting worked up about it. What the hell is everyone picking on me for? Is this what positive energy buys me? Screw that. Finally, Alligator Horse Guy comes over to my desk and assures me he was not trying to be a dirtbag. I believed him, he's good people. He was forgiven.
Feeling a little out of sorts, I headed down to the gym, I mean, MY GOD, I had ONE freaking Girl Scout cookie, how in the world was I EVER going to work that off? I looked at my workout shirt, clearly stolen from Will, and it says on the back, "Do I Look Like A Freaking People Person To You?" I smiled a little and said out loud in the locker room I was sharing with no one, "No, I don't."
So, what I think about all of this is that the universe isn't ready for me to have a bright and sun-shiny day. It doesn't want me to be full of hope and love. It's all bullshit. No more. Tomorrow, I'll go in and treat people accordingly. Today I left myself vulnerable. It won't happen again.
And, I don't need the drama or controversy, I'll just remember I don't give a shit and I won't tell them what my opinion is. I will just tell them what they want to hear. Tomorrow, if you come up to me and are covered with dog shit and ask me how you look, I will tell you that you look Fan-fucking-tastic! Maybe a brown ribbon in your hair will compliment that smelly brown color on your shirt! If you want to know if your email sounded okay, or if it needs tweaking, I will say it sound like fucking poetry. If you ask me if I want to buy fucking Girl Scout cookies, you could lose a testicle.
Who's happy about Wednesday? Not this girl, that is for damn sure.
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