Because I am admittedly too timid to respond to the person who has set me off about this today, I'm going to vent here on my blog. Consider it a public response to a private wounding.
Apologies in advance.
Dear well-meaning people: I know that I am overweight. Believe me, no one knows this better than I. It's been a struggle since the sixth grade (so, for the past quarter-century). I've successfully dieted a few times in my life, losing a combined weight of over 100 pounds. I've been a gym member twice and, yes, have utilized its services. Unfortunately, unlike the rest of you, I am not perfect. While I drink very little alcohol, and don't smoke and don't partake of drugs, I do enjoy food. Bad food, and too much of it.
So it goes.
As good-intentioned and well-meaning as you may be, I do not need you to suggest a dietary program for me. I do not need you to say things like, "I just want you to be around for a long time," as though any second could be my last on this earth. You're not really helping. In fact, you are actually making me feel even more insecure.
Because weight is a particularly obvious issue, you can see my problem with ease. But this does not mean that yours are non-existent. We all have our crosses to bear. None of us are perfect. If you would like, I could offer unsolicited advice about how to better your life.
Or we could simply agree not be each other's Dr. Phil. That's probably for the best.