brown paper packages

In my family the measure of one's character seems to be determined by the ability to maintain a slim physique.

Never mind if we are vain, gossipy, back-stabbing, unkind, easily offended, uncharitable or prideful, as long as we are slim, or on our way to being slim with obvious efforts and noticeable results.  Every family get together begins with a complete once-over of every attendee. 

Oh, you've lost/gained weight, look good, new blouse, pretty skirt, different hair.

And then the advice-giving commences.  ( This week, someone told me that the answer to everything was that I should just do some more housework, more often..."two goals accomplished at the same time," they said chirpily, not realizing that really the only thing getting accomplished was that I was being insulted simultaneously about two separate issues.  But really, vacuuming 2x daily is the cure to all life's ills... I should have known.)

My rebellious nature wants to smile and nod and reach for a doughnut. 

Yes, I am that much of a non-conformist that I would almost get fatter just to spite those that care.  Almost.

One day, I will blog about my weight and what it means and has meant in my life.  But today is not that day.

Today, I am just wondering when anyone will care more about who I am than how I look.  And I have to say that at 34, husband and children aside (for now anyways), its pretty sad that I'm still asking.  I don't mean sad in that "I'm disgusted" way either.  More like that "I want to cry" way.