"You've gained some weight, haven't you?" Lil asked.
I was attempting to piece together one of my 6-year-old cousin's Star Wars ships when she posed the question. I looked up at her across the table in disbelief that this was really happening, on Christmas Eve no less. I shot a glance at my mom who was standing next to Lil, and her eyes widened in shock. I was already warm, but now I was sweating. I could feel the heat in my face. Too many swear words were running through my head for one not to come out of my mouth, I was sure of it.
"A little..." I replied.
What?! That's not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her how much I hate her. That she's ruining my grandfather's life. That she's a complete and utter bitch. That you never ask someone about their weight, unless it's gone down. That if you have nothing nice to say, you say nothing at all.
My eyes fell back down to the little pieces of the model. Han Solo was not sitting in the cockpit properly, and I thought that if I just focus on building this ship, I won't cry.
"Yeah, I didn't recognize you when you came in. You used to be so skinny," Lil continued.
Seriously, you're still talking about this? Are you kidding me? Maybe you don't recognize me because you haven't seen me in two years? Ya know, because you don't allow Grandpa to come to family functions... Forget commenting on my long, blond hair; my engagement; my new job; my cute owl earrings. Hateful words were fighting their way out of my lips. I didn't know how much longer I could keep them in.
Lil hooked her arm around my mom who was still standing next to her. "Not you, though," she told her. "You've always been so skinny." She pulled Mom closer with an approving one-armed hugged.
I looked up at Lil again, who was looking back at me with pity in her eyes. Probably wondering how I'm even alive, being so fat and all.
Focus on Han Solo's ship. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Maybe if you just shut up, she will too. And all of a sudden a clear, tiny plastic circle went flying out of my shaking hands. I was so upset. My eyes were hot. Pull it together, Jess.
"It must be all that love that's fattened you up," she laughed. Great, I was hoping you were going to keep talking about this.
Grandpa and I started the search party for the ship's rear cockpit window. Good, a distraction. Turns out, it was on the table the whole time.
Doesn't every woman know that you don't voice other women's weight gain to their face? You wait and do it behind their back when they can't hear you. This unwritten rule obviously needs to be written down, and passed out in bolded, red, underlined and italicized text to those who have trouble grasping this common social courtesy.
And the worst part, as I was walking out the door to go home so I could finally cry, Grandpa calls out to me, "Give your Aunt Lil a hug." I took a few more steps before it fully registered what he had asked of me. I turn around, ready to tell him that I hate her, and I will not give her a hug. But, in reality, I'm sighing, turning around and walking back toward the house. I lean in the left half of my body around the cold, grey door Lil is standing behind, as she pats my arm and says, "Aw... I love you." Go fuck yourself. I make it out the door, through the garage and to the driveway. I think it’s safe, and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Grandpa calls out to me. “I’m glad you’re happy, Grandpa,” I manage to choke out.
For those of you who don’t know, Great Aunt Lil was married to my grandpa’s brother. His brother passed away, my grandma (his wife) passed away and now they’re dating. It's a regular love story, right? Ugh. It’s disgusting. Even though they’re not blood relatives, it grosses me out. Maybe even more so because my grandma never liked her. It’s obvious why—she’s not a lady. She has no filter. She’s a bitch, plain and simple.
When Mike woke up, he said the right things, telling me I'm pretty, not fat. But no matter how many times he tells me, it doesn't erase Lil's comments. It's all I can think about. I'm kicking myself for not telling her off. For agreeing with her.
This "conversation" couldn't have happened at a worse time. Lately I have been feeling so awful about my image, especially around my mother who is a zumba instructor at a gym. I didn't eat for the rest of the day, I was too busy crying. I've been trying to lose weight, who isn't? I joined the Y, and am cutting down on my portions. But, it's a slow process. And now part of me wants to gain weight—just to spite her. To show her that I’m happy with how I look, even though I’m not.
Grandpa is always with Lil's family in a different town. They don’t come to holiday dinners, or tell anyone when he’s back home for a short while to visit. When we call to speak with him on the phone, she answers. He recently broke his back falling down the basement steps. We only knew about it because my aunt happened to call him that day to see how he was doing. Lil refused to provide details about his injury, his condition, what the doctor said. Until, that is, my aunt told her what’s what. And I know that if I would’ve spoken out against Lil this Christmas Eve, my mom and aunt and everyone else would have supported my outburst. It would have been justified. And God knows it would’ve felt great. And now my opportunity to tell her how I feel is lost. I doubt I'll see her again.
I keep replaying this day over and over in my head. Wishing I stood up for myself, or, at the very least, refused a hug. Instead of enjoying Christmas day, all I could focus on was my heavy double chin, bulging stomach and squishy back. Even in the comfort of my Packer sweatshirt, I felt like everyone was staring at me in bewilderment of my fat. Even now, writing this, I have to look up at the ceiling to drain the tears back into my eyes, and blink away the blurry vision they leave behind.
