Scene: Friday night; in our favorite restaurant at dinner; rather tipsy from an entire bottle of wine.

Me: So I think I’m gonna go to this Weight Watchers meeting tomorrow. It’s worth checking out. I’m just worried that I’ll be, like, the fattest person there.
Snook: Well, you could be their mascot!
Me: *blink*

Upon further explanation, he didn’t mean it the way it sounded (or so he claims). Hmmm, we’ll see.

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  1. I am certain he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. If he’s like 90% of the men that I know, he just doesn’t realize women’s sensitivity to the whole weight issue, and how an offhand comment can be hurtful.

    I’m planning on starting WW on Monday, too, so I’d love to hear if you go. I’ll post about my experience if/when I go.

  2. I think it was more to do with his misunderstanding of what a “mascot” is. He wasn’t thinking of the U.S. type where you wear a silly costume; he was thinking of something more like a “rallying figure”. (Again, or so he claims.) He meant that even if I WERE the biggest on there, he was sure it would be this nurturing environment where everybody would support me. I’m like, “In the future, buddy, try to recognize when I’m being SELF-DEPRECATING and RESPOND ACCORDINGLY.” He was appropriately chastened. :)

  3. Oh, and as for WW – I didn’t end up going at all! The closest meeting to me is at 8:30 AM on Saturdays. Insanity, especially after all the wine I had last night. I might try to hit one of this week’s evening meetings a little farther afield. I’ll let you know how it goes.

  4. my daughter poked by stomach and said ‘squish!’


  5. Hmmmmmmmm. I’m not saying ANYTHING at all. I’m not THINKING anything either.

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