I can't stand gossipy people. I really can't stand gossipy old hags who make it their lifes' work to be in everyone's business and 'get to the bottom' of whatever it is they're trying to uncover. Case in point, like how I lost so much weight.
Here's the answer:
NONE OF YOUR EFFIN BUSINESS, YOU STUPID BITCH.
Where did this rant come from? There is this woman in the office who was forever trying to 'crack my code' since she's been struggling with her weight. She sees me, who is younger, losing all this weight (albeit slowly) and she's made it her life mission to find out my secret. Since I'm not out of the fat closest, I tell people- Diet, exercise and portion control. If you get down to the nitty-gritty, I'm not lying. I limit the amount of food I'm shoveling down my gullet and I've lost weight. End of story, and that's all they need to know until I'm ready to come clean. What I don't like is the gossip that is flying around about how I MUST have had something done. Who cares if I have?! Is it any concern of yours?! I don't see what the big deal is. Is it really going to change how you view me?? I'm a freakin' co-worker, not your daughter or sister. Even then, who the eff cares. I'm alive. I'm in good health, I'm certainly not hurting anyone. What's the freakin problem?! Oh, I KNOW- YOU HAVE TO STICK YOUR FAT NOSE IN EVERYONES BUSINESS. Grrrrrrrrrrrr
OK, so that's beef numero uno. The second involves someone I know whom I've mentioned on here before. Another person I work with. Love him to death, but he's killing himself and we, as his fellow cohorts, are contributing to it. He's in his early 40s and probably weighs, if I had to guess, close to 600lbs. He's scooter-free, but barely. Where we come in, is that he's always asking us to go buy him fast food. Since I've lost weight (and he knows how because I told him out of rage one day when he was saying he would never do "that" because he's heard stories of horrible outcomes from WLS patients. Me and my big fat mouth had to say "Oh really?! Do i look all that bad, because I'm a WLS patient and I'm freaking WONDERFUL." That shut him up real quick, but I digress...), he doesn't ask me to get him food as often, but the others oblige him. We work in a multi-story building and for him to leave, he has to walk a bit. HEAVEN FORBID. WALKING. So instead of putting forth the effort, he asks us to do it. I can't help but to think we're killing him. I know I'm not the only one who is put out by it. I've talked to several others (who know about me- close confidants) who feel they don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but they hate doing it. What's more sad, is that we have interns every summer. College kids that don't know a soul there, and he asks THEM to go get him food. Can you believe that?!?! Do you really think they are going to tell him no?! Maybe it's just me, but I feel awful for them. Other than avoid him like the plague, I just feel awful when I see people bringing him fast food. What would you do? I mean, part of me thinks and takes the stance of "It's none of my business and if I'm getting fast food, what's the harm in bringing him some too." But the logical side of me is thinking "If he wants to continue to kill himself, at least make him make the 30 steps trek to his car and back for a meal". KWIM?!
When he asks me if I'm going anywhere for lunch, I really want to say "Yes, I am, but I'm sorry I can't bring you back anything. If you want something unhealthy, YOU need to get off your ass and get it yourself." But I'm nice (HA!) and could never say this to my friend. Honestly, he'd give you the shirt off his back...he's just that type of guy. But I'm torn about how to deal with my internal conflict at the whole weight thing.
He also has people do stuff for him around the office. For instance, pick up faxes, punch the time clock, get him water, throw stuff away in the trash can (that's 4ft away from where he's sitting) etc etc. We used to have our printer down at the end of this long hallway. Well, now guess where it is. A mere 2ft from HIS desk so it's convenient for him. Maybe this is coming from a skinny girl (although I would never consider myself that), but when did being overweight become a disability requiring special accomodations at the workplace?! If he were coming into work drunk everyday or high as a kite, would the job being footing the bill for his habit? Would we put a wine fridge near his desk?! I don't think so....so why the moving of the printer? I don't know why it upsets me, but it does. We're watching him kill himself. That's the scary thing. We have a small elevator at the office. If he were to have some cardiac episode of anything requiring an EMT situation, it would be awful. I don't think they would be able to get him on a stretcher out the door.
Am I being a hyprocrite by bitching about the nosey nellie, and yet being the bitchy one by caring about what a co-worker eats or how he goes about getting it?!
Maybe I just need to worry about myself. Ya, that's probably it. :/