I have two topics for today’s blog post. One involving a wonderful experience, and one that’s… well, not as wonderful. Which should I talk about first? Hmmm… Let’s get the negative one out of the way:
I got my first mean comment! I kinda knew, deep down, that this would come. It arrived a few days ago, in the blizzard of comments and notes and messages regarding my appearance on Ellen, but I’m just getting to it now.
For all you non-bloggers out there, here’s how the comments section operates (at least on WordPress): I have to approve first-time commenters on my blog, which means that their comment isn’t seen by anyone before me. Once I approve someone the first time, their comment goes public, and they’re free, from that point forward, to comment as much as they like, with their comments getting posted immediately. I can still go back at any point and delete any comment I wish, but so far, I’ve never deleted a comment, nor have ever not approved a new commenter. Until now. Someone left a very mean-spirited comment earlier this week, and I’m not going to approve it, because I don’t want to give them free reign to leave more. I will, however, share the comment with all of you, because, why not? I’m not offended by it – maybe I would be if it weren’t so stupid. Here it is:
“what size bra do you wear now?”
They signed it “Mike Hunt” – clever! They also left an email address (which you have to do when you leave a comment), so I have that, but I’m not gonna share it, or do anything with it. It’s not worth my time or effort to respond any more than I’m doing right now, and plus, who knows if it’s even real.
Moving on to better things…
I had an awesome shopping experience today. I’m still in Michigan, and I needed to buy a dress shirt. I went to the nearby Men’s Wearhouse, where I had had a fantastic suit-buying experience last summer. A lovely, slim, young woman named Amanda helped me. I told her I needed to buy a shirt, but wasn’t sure of my size, as I had been losing weight. “My last shirt was size 17 1/2, but I’m hoping I’m down to 17 now” (17 refers to my neck measurement in inches, for anyone who hasn’t bought men’s shirts before). Amanda had already looped the measuring tape around my neck when she responded. “Oh, you’re definitely not a 17,” she said. “You’re way beyond that. I’d say 16.” My eyes widened, and I followed her to a rack, where she pulled a 16. It ended up fitting perfectly.
“What’s your secret for all the weight loss?” Amanda asked me. I told her a little about what I’m doing, and then she told me that she had lost 200 pounds (!) about 10 years ago and has kept it off! Amazing. She had a gastric bypass (and, at age 17, was the youngest person ever to have one at that time), but still – surgeries don’t always mean weight loss success, especially if you don’t work at it. She then told me about how so many obese people, over the years, had disapproved of surgery because of the scar it would leave. Amanda’s response? “C’mon. The people that say that are 100, 200 pounds overweight. My choice was between being 200 pounds overweight or having a scar. When you’re that overweight, let’s face it, bikini season ended when you were about 7 years old anyway. I don’t care about a scar!”
I adored Amanda even more after she said that, and despite costing more than I was planning on paying, I promptly bought the shirt from her, happily.
My new size 16 shirt means that I’ve now lost SIX INCHES around my neck. SIX INCHES!
Keep it up, David!