Do You See What I See?

A practical lesson in body dysmorphia:

I am fatter than I was, and here's how I know. The pants that fit me today could be pulled off while buttoned and zipped in September. The pants that were loose in June '06 and tight in Fall '06 can no longer be zipped. I have put on 15 pounds in a year and a half, and had not gained that much since high school when I was working out 3 times a day, not eating more than 2 small meals, and doing my best to keep nothing in my stomach. I have had a salad for lunch, and little else, almost every day for 2 months. Now that I have pretty much cut out meat and dairy, I'm down 2.5 pounds. Steel cut oats with a handful of fresh fruit and nothing else. Airpopped popcorn. Diet coke. And so many fucking vegetables that I could lose my mind. 2.5 pounds. So now I'm cutting alchohol, weekend eating, and everything I can think of.

AND YET, EVERY fucking woman I talk to takes great pains to tell me she's a size 8, and then cluck over my fat ass. I generally can't tell when people gain or lose weight, and when I look at photos of myself over the years, I don't see the weight gain. I know what I weighed because I weigh myself every day and can tell you month by month what size I was and how many pounds I weighed. Seriously. But here's what I DO know.

Many of the women around me are lying. I don't know why - insecurity? mean-spiritedness? self-delusion? But while I struggle to identify where I fit on the scale, I do know this: if I can count the ROLLS OF FAT on your waist, you are not a size 8 and you are a fucking liar.