I Hate You, Sol

I can't stop looking at my butt. It's not that great of a butt, and as I lose weight it's becoming flatter, which is good, but it's not a shape I'm used to seeing. I kinda wish it were a bit more round. In other words, I don't think any rappers are going to be singing songs about me having back any time soon. But it's smaller than it was two months ago, which is such a new phenomenon I can't keep my eyes off it.

I'm starting to remind me of a girl I used to work with, Soledad, or Sol for short. She started losing a bunch of weight and was looking really great. People were complimenting her and you could tell her self-confidence was increasing. But the more she lost, the more she needed those compliments -- to the point where if she didn't get any she would start her own conversation with the victim nearest her about how great she looked, her new diet and lifestyle and how much weight she had lost. Naturally, no one really wanted to pursue conversations with her because no matter who initiated it or what the subject matter was, it would turn back around to her new body and weight loss. It got to the point where if you saw her coming down the hall, you ducked into someone else's cubicle and made up something to talk about until the coast was clear.

Examples of the obnoxity include:
"Well, this new diet my trainer has me on is very low carb which is totally hard for me to do because you know that's what I grew up eating was all that rice and bread and stuff but it's totally worth it because look how much weight I've lost and don't I look great???"

"When I started this I was a size 12 but now look at me I look great I'm a size 0 at first I thought I was a 2, but then I just got this pair of shorts aren't they cute but I have to go exchange them because I thought I was a small but these are too big so I guess I need an extra-small I sure do hope they have some in stock not a lot of people carry that size but it's because I'm a 0 now and I need the extra small aren't they cute?"

Yes, she really did speak like that -- with no audible punctuation and super fast -- almost as though she knew if she paused for breath the opportunity would be siezed to turn and run the other way. It always made me think to myself, "I hate you, Sol." It wasn't jealousy that made me think that, it was the idea that she had no self-awareness to see how blabbing incessantly about herself and how great she was was completely insensitive, rude and obnoxious.

So yes, I've been on a lower carb eating program and yes I've lost weight to the point where it's noticeable and people are starting to compliment me. I like to think, though, that if it's not noticed, I don't get offended. I'm certainly not bragging about it in an unsolicted manner. Well, at work at least I'm not.

Home is a different story. Home is a safe haven, so I feel a little more entitled to longer glances in the mirror (at my new and improved butt), not to brag but mostly in astonishment that it's noticeably smaller. This, of course, results in me making observations to anyone in the room about the new size clothes I'm fitting into and laments regarding all the clothes that I've outgrown and will either need to donate to Goodwill or have altered.

I honestly don't want to descend to the same level of obnoxiousness that Sol did on a daily basis, so I'm trying to keep my audible observations to a minimum. The cats are a good audience for that, but they act disinterested all, "Whatever, dude. Feed me," so obviously my weight loss is not in the forefront of their feline cares. In trying to be sensitive to not becoming like Sol, I said to Linda the other day after moaning about having no clothes to wear, "I don't want to be like Sol. Please let me know BEFORE we get to that point so that I don't alienate anyone or make you hate me."

Skinny Linda responded, "Oh, you can brag about it all you want. Until you get to a size 8 then you're not allowed to talk about it anymore."

I said, "Why? Is that because you're a 10 and don't want me to be smaller than you?"

"Yep."

Good to know. I'll never be bragging/complaining about having to exchange that super cute pair of shorts from a size small to an extra-small because I'll never be an 8. Not just because I've never been an 8 (I think I went straight from a toddler's M to a junior's 11 or 13 in adolescence) but because I don't want to risk the sanctity of body-size proportions in the home. I've always been more of the Papa Bear size in the house and I can understand that anything other than that jeopordizes that delicate balance.

More than even that, though, I don't want anyone to look at me and whisper to themselves, "I hate you, Sol."