the email from my mother

The Mr. had a late night gig last night. I haven't missed a show yet, so I went despite the late time slot and despite the fact that I had to get up for work the next morning. It was a really good show, and at one of our favorite bars which was awesome. I ate some leftover sweet potato black bean chili (350) for lunch and then nothing else so I could have a couple beers and not totally ruin my calorie count. And you know, drinking on an empty stomach...I got kind of tipsy off two beers (290). I had a pretty good time.

On the way home, squished in the backseat, surrounded by drums, I was in a really good mood. Feeling light and happy and rather tipsy. Somehow we started talking about "cheat days" in dieting. Then my tipsy mouth said something dumb.

"Today was my cheat day because I had two beers." I said flippantly.

He frowned at me in the rearview mirror. "Today was not a cheat day. I know you didn't have dinner."

"I ate lunch at like 3:00 pm!" I protested sloppily.

"That doesn't matter." He said firmly. "I know what you're trying to do. You're not getting away with any of this. I notice when you don't eat."

I think I changed the subject then or laughed it off. But it worries me, now that I'm sober and thinking about it. I thought I was being pretty sneaky since he hadn't really said anything. I guess not. I promised I'd go to lunch with him today in an attempt to look like a normal, well-adjusted human being.

...

Yesterday I got an email from my mother. We have a great fake-good relationship now. I don't trust her at all, and she pretends that she's always been the most wonderful mother on the universe. I also moved 1,000 miles away from her, and that helps a lot. I only see her about once a year, and that is perfectly fine by me.

She emailed me a picture of a skirt that she wants to sew for me. And then said, "You look like you are losing weight so I'll bet I have to make a small size."

There we go.

Let me translate. The skirt is a bribe to find out how much weight I've lost and what my new measurements are. It's also a sort of reward because I've lost weight. Like she wanted. Like she's always wanted.

It's a really cute skirt, dammit.

I guess she had to find out. I know she specifically looks at every photo I put up on Facebook in order to gauge my weight.

The worst part is that I know what's going to happen. I'm going to keep losing weight, which means I'm going to become my mother's "favorite." Then she'll pit me against my sisters. She'll praise me and shame them. She'll make them feel terrible about their bodies, and she'll use me to do it.

Do I sound really paranoid? Probably. But I'm not assuming or speculating. I'm telling you what's going to happen...again. Because this is what always happens.

This is why I didn't tell my mother about me losing weight.