Eat a Sandwich

In the morning, my coworker brought (unexpected) cookies to share. When I drove past the marquee the temperature was displayed both times. I couldn’t find a belt to match my pants, and I’ve been watching a lot of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy lately, so I took a fashion risk and turned my belt inside out. Turns out, this belt (which I’ve had for the last 12 years, and is one of my wardrobe staples) is legit reversible. And I didn’t even know! Feeling sassy and on top of the world I had Cool take my picture.

Cool then tagged this picture on Facebook. It’s one of the only pictures where I’m not smiling with my teeth and my face actually looks good.  Usually my straight teeth and $10,000+ smile are the feature of note in any picture.  And I guess it should be after a billion years of braces and retainers, and Invialign.  But this picture was different–I exuded confidence and had a soft of flirty/feisty look on my face.  And some dude on Cool’s friends list (that I do not know, and have never talked to) was first to comment.

“Eat a sandwich.” he said.

I was stunned. I have never in my life heard such a thing. Especially not directed toward ME. I’ve been petite all my life, but I never, never got teased or criticized for it. I immediately felt defensive. I wanted to tell him, tell everyone that was reading Cool’s wall and my wall, that the very day of that picture I had eaten a cookie at work at 7 in the morning. Had a large plate full of decked out nachos (we’re talking liberal amounts of lime chips, extra cheese, re-fried beans, black beans, jalapeno peppers, and huge dollops of sour cream) and a 2 alarm jalapeno cheese burger for lunch.

Then, I looked at Lose-It, where I input my daily calories in and out. The last month my most common item was water [yay me! and how’d that happen?] 2nd was coffee. And third? Cheese. I ate cheddar cheese 16 times in the last 4 weeks. That’s 911 calories of just cheese. 4th? Cadbury eggs. Those come in at 4,200 literal calories in a 4 week span of time. Not my proudest health moment.

As I was looking up this information, it made me think how this douche, um dude obviously doesn’t know me at all. I LOVE food, eat it in vast, unhealthy quantities, and only exercise when weather and time-management are both optimal–if I’m not feeling too lazy that day. And that’s probably why I’ve never had anyone give my criticism for having a thin build–because anyone who knows me even a little, knows I eat like crap and am generally lazy.

I became angry that some man felt he had the right to make any judgement about my body–my natural structure that I cannot help. He was making a harsh judgement that if confronted, I’m sure he would play off as a joke. Why does he feel he has the right?  I’m gifted with a good metabolism.  But that’s none of his business.  I don’t have to explain myself to him or anyone else.  And this negative, uninvited comment was like me telling a stranger to go eat a salad. Or get gastric bypass. It’s not appropriate. And if it’s meant as a joke–not funny.

And so I debated telling him his words were unsolicited and inappropriate  But I’m sure he (and maybe others) would just tell me to lighten up. And I do not want to hear that, or argue extensively about it on Facebook, because I know this is not MY problem. And this is not really about weight or food either.  This is another form of patriarchy.  This is some man thinking he can take my power away by criticizing my body. Because society tells him that it is his right to make snap judgments about any female form.  And I don’t want anyone thinking they have the right.

But I really am trying to live my (fast approaching 30) life with an “arguing with a fool makes two” mentality. And I think no response at all might be just as powerful–I will not let this stranger know he stole some of the thunder out of my good day and knocked my confidence for a loop. I will keep on dressing as I see fit, eating and exercising for ME and no one else, and have a good day no matter what anyone else thinks.  Then I will eat a sandwich.  A fluffenutter, not because some guy deems my body too thin, but because I want to.

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• A Sandwich a Day: Cemita de Pierna at Cemitas Poblanas, Seattle (seriouseats.com)