It all started with a conversation about my boobs. And, if you have seen a picture of me recently, you might be inclined to ask: What boobs?
It's a fair and very valid question as I barely fill out an A cup thanks to weight loss and nursing Miles. It is what it is what is ... until I change it, which is what I was telling some friends this weekend. One day, as I've written here before, when babies aren't in my future, I will seriously consider skin removal surgery. While under the knife, it only makes sense for the doctor to give me something as he takes away. Namely, boobs.
As we chatted about the procedure, I discussed other areas that could be addressed during skin removal - arms and legs.
"Can you have the extra skin on your legs removed?" a friend asked.
"Well, yes," I replied, as I thought she asked if it was possible. And it is. Others took it as her asking me in a way that implied I should do it.
Oh, how things can be taken the wrong way.
The question didn't - and still doesn't - bother me. I have been asked far more invasive, far ruder questions/comments when it comes to weight loss.
"What was your starting weight?"
I have been open about my starting weight for the purposes of this blog and print stories but I shudder when people ask me in real life ask. Why? They wouldn't have asked me how much I weighed then so it's not an appropriate question now. Also, by knowing how much I've lost, they know how much I weigh now and, for the most part, I am no longer concerned with that number. In any other situation, it would be considered pretty rude to ask someone her weight. Losing weight doesn't make it OK.
"You lost, like, a whole person."
Yes. There are people who weigh 120 pounds but the last time I checked I didn't lose me, and I am still a whole person. I was a whole person then, too. For me, I dislike the comment because I still find some frustration that I allowed myself to get to 245 pounds and though losing weight was good, I shouldn't have gotten to a point that I needed to lose 120 pounds (or 115, depending on the day). I don't like to be reminded that I was carrying the weight of an extra person.
"Wow! You must feel so much better. Right?"
Sure, some days I feel good. Other days, I feel like ass crack. It was the same when I was overweight. I hate the implication that you must feel bad all the time when you are overweight. Even worse, I reject the idea that being at a certain weight equates feeling good as weight loss doesn't solve all of the problems.
I don't always like to answer questions about weight loss because it's not who I am anymore. I am not the 245-pound girl I wrote about. I would much rather talk about running ... or Miles ... or Mark ... or running.
For you ...
What do you think are rude questions to ask about weight?