Coming out to my 91yo grandmother, that spring I first broke the news to her about dating a woman, did not proceed according to plan.
My mother’s mother took a long moment, squinting at me intently, before she spoke.
“So…when are you going to lose the weight?”
I sputtered back incoherently, shifting quickly into defensive mode while still trying to confirm if she had heard and understood what I had said. But once begun, Gram was not to be dissuaded. From critiquing my body, she moved on to my brother’s, and then my brother’s wife. When her litany of complaints reached the circumference of my preschool niece’s thighs, I stood up to leave the room.
“I don’t understand what happened,” my grandmother’s querulous lament followed me. “You used to be so young and thin.
“You used to be pretty.”
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This is not a story about living in a fat body…
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