I had a hot date today.
Like any girl, by the time I finally picked something to wear, it looked like my closet had exploded. Deciding on an outfit has always been a challenge for me; trying on 10 different outfits only to go back to my original choice was a daily routine. Add weight restoration to the picture and the simple task of getting dressed becomes overwhelmingly discouraging. I don't look or feel comfortable unless I'm wearing the baggiest clothes I can find. I'm not exaggerating when I say I would rather wear a brown sack than torturing myself daily trying to find something that fits.
I haven't seen my date in months. He knows where I have been for the past few months, but I was still worried the only thing he would notice is that I have gained X number of pounds. My ED has done an excellent job at twisting my brain into believing that my weight is the first thing everyone notices about me. All of this nervous energy and fretting for a date with my dip shit brother (don't worry, he doesn't read my blog, so name calling is acceptable...).
Growing up, for some crazy reason, I have always envied my younger brother, Larsen. He effortlessly made friends and seemed to find a way to be in the middle of everything. He had an easy-going-ness that allowed him to fit in with every person he came in contact with. Not a care in the world. Nothing seemed to rock his boat; or he found a way to wear a mask and hide it.
Larsen was also a natural on the ball field. I still remember him throwing up stones and hitting them across the street with a broomstick at the age of 3. He was the youngest out of all of us Cronkright cousins, but it didn't seem to even cross his mind. Family gatherings typically consisted of a pretty heated ball game in my grandma's backyard. And like I said, that dip shit with a squeaky voice was always instigating something.
Me, on the other hand, am a completely different story. Everything makes me anxious. I hated being the center of attention and don't really care for big groups of people. As the years pasted, I did my best to convince myself that I didn't envy my baby brother. However, years of repressed feelings finally got the best of me. I didn't want anything to do with him simply because I was sick and tired of feeling inferior.
Earlier this week I called Lars and asked him if was able to squeeze me into his busy schedule and have a lunch date with me. I was blown away when he not only agreed, but also followed through. He will probably never understand how much that meant to me. My parents told him where I have been and why but I wasn't sure if his simple mind really understood. I wasn't sure if I should even bring it up...
After ordering and finding a place to sit, I nervously began eating lunch with him. Out of nowhere I said " You know I have gained X pounds since I have been gone?" Without he's hesitation, he looked me in the eye, smiled a huge smile, and said " High five, Sista! That's awesome!" I am having a hard time putting my feelings into words. Not only did he show he understood, but his gesture proved to me that he cares.
With only a few pounds to go before reaching my goal weight (and a worsening body image), I feel like today was a turning point. Who knew a simple high five could completely change my outlook; not only in treatment but also the way I feel about my brother. He might seem simple minded and carefree, but deep down I know he will always have my back. Years of feeling inferior have been erased. Suddenly, getting to know the real kid behind the dip shit mask has given me inspiration to keep chuggin' along. He will be there regardless of the silly number on the scale. We might be polar
opposites, but I'm finally able to accept that.
Thank you, Louis, for lunch & some much needed motivation. :)