Most of the time, I consider myself to be a unaffected by the insecurity monster. But there are seasons when my husband is busy or unintentionally not attentive, times when I think so low of my self or the way I look. I've definitely had a season of that sprinkled throughout my life lately.
I didn't do a lot this week. When I struggled with self with and insecurity, I tend to not leave the house much. After vacation, I couldn't hide from the grocery store. List in hand, I headed to my usual store a few blocks away.
My first stop was produce. I want to make chocolate covered frozen bananas and they were on sale. Score for me!
I looked them over and decided the bunches being put out by a man stocking the shelf were the best looking. I waited for him to move and then grabbed what I wanted.
As I put the bananas in my basket, I looked up at the man stocking. Looking straight at me, he said "Stupid fat fuck."
Shocked, I stood there looking at him in disbelief. Picking my mouth up off the floor, I began to walk away. In those seconds, I know I kept thinking about what was said. Had he really just said that? I tried to find any other words that I could have put together that wouldn't have been those.
Before I got out of the isle, he was standing beside me rubbing my shoulder and mumbling some nonsense about how sorry he was that the bananas weren't in better shape. What the hell? Sorry about the bananas?
I pulled away from him and walked away. Just past my shock were the tears setting heavy in my eyes. My mind was full of thoughts. How could this man have been so cruel. You know I'm not above the swearing. But by an employee? Yes, I know I'm fat, but who was he to remind me?
Several isles back and deep into the bakery section, I had finally regained enough composure to go on shopping. Standing over some rolls, I felt a hand on my back shoulder. Nearly jumping, I turned around to find the giant asshole standing in by me again.
He had banana in hand and was bringing me what he thought were better ones than I'd picked. I stepped away from him as he reached again to put his hand on my back. Believe it or not, I told him to put the bananas in the basket and let me go...CALMLY!
He was a strange man who'd been so mean to me, then touched me repeatedly. Oh my word! Ivy then, I was doing my best to not breakdown in a bawling heap. I had those full body shutters that you get as you are about to or just finished crying.
I'm not sure what kept me in the store. It took me about 45 minutes to finish my shopping. I'm a fast shopper. That's slow for me.
At the other end of the store, I heard raised voices and swearing coming from a hallway to the warehouse. Out stomps the same older man, cussing in a raised voice.
That was the determining factor in what would happen next.
When I got to checkout, I waited patiently for the cashier to ask if I'd found everything. When she did, I was ready. I said first of all, I could t find wonton wrappers. The truth was that they were in produce and I couldn't go back.
Then I said second, your banana sticker must be having a bad day because he called me a stupid fat fuck. Before I knew it, there was a supervisor standing there asking me what had been said.
As I shared with her what had happened, she asked if it was possible he had not been talking to me.
Hello! I was the only one standing there. I'm pretty sure that the bananas had not done anything to tick him off. Shouldn't her first response be to apologize anyway? That sort of language by an employee should not be acceptable regardless of who he was talking to. Probably the most obvious thing would be that if you say that around a larger person, it's going to be taken personally.
My aggravation was certainly growing by this time, which was when the store manager stepped in. I'd repeated it so many times by this point that I was feeling humiliated and more angry than I had been.
I walked out of the store with a couple free cases of pop, wontons and a $50 gift card. Honestly, I'd trade it all for an explanation and apology.
I know that most women are very sensitive to how they look. That insecurity is multiplied when you are a heavier woman. I know that even a slightly overweight person would have been offended. I do wonder why he felt so lowly of me that he would label me as something so awful. It had more to do with him having a bad day than anything about me. However, I still wonder if my mere existence is that off putting. Am I that difficult to look at, so much so that I appear to be a wall of flesh with no emotion. Do I appear so large that my ears must be filled with fat rendering me unable to hear the insults being hurled at me?
It makes me think and consider and beat myself up inside. It's a good thing I'm not an emotional eater cause this is the sort of thing that would land me in the middle of a family sized pepperoni pizza and half gallon of ice cream.
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