Monday, May 16th, 2011

Having a rough day.

I have an unhealthy body image, and probably an unhealthy relationship to food.

This morning started alright- I'm not losing weight as fast as I thought I would, but I'm still dropping a pound or so a week. Every morning I look at myself in the mirror- can't help it, as it's opposite of the shower. I looked alright to myself. It seemed like I was dropping- I even had the confidence to wear my size 12 jeans.

Work was a different story. As soon as I walked in, I knew it was going to be a rough day. The owner of the store (Gary) is practically bipolar in his mood swings, and today was bad. He lectured me about responsibility the moment I walked in (he thinks anyone under the age of 40 is a moron who is out to rip him off), and then lectured me about not lecturing Sean (the kitchen guy) enough.

I am not a manager, not an assistant manager. I'm like fourth-in-charge at a company of seven. Sean is a 18 year old kid who doesn't listen to me anyway. No one listens to me (something that doesn't bother me 99.8% of the time).

It was a seven hour shift, 1-7, no breaks. At about 5 Gary came up, told me that anyone who wanted to cash their paycheck had to pay their tab, and that if John (the guy I came out of "retirement" to replace) came to get his check I was to pass along the message that John had to talk to Gary to get it. Standard pay day stuff.

The customers were pretty cool today, which was nice.

Mary Ann came in first. Mary Ann is 60-something, and dislikes the fact that I am given more responsibility than her. She doesn't care that I've been there longer, or that I have more experience, or that I'm a nearly full time employee while she cranks out maybe 15 hours a week. She's a relatively nice lady, until I do anything that comes off like I'm slightly in charge. Then she gets snotty.

So, she came in and asked for her check. I handed it to her, she opened it and asked me to cash it. As ordered, I grabbed her tab and started punching it into the register.

"What are you doing?" She practically snarled at me. I blinked at her- confused at her animosity.
 "Gary is being a real asshole about the tabs today- he told me if anyone cashed their check here they have to pay there tab." I answered, in my best 'this isn't my fault' voice. (A voice I perfected when I worked at an answering service.)
"But I shouldn't have to pay my tab- he still owes me money." I shrugged- I've just gotten back from a three-month break, so I don't know how true this is.
"Sorry, 'fraid he was pretty serious about it." I tried to pass the buck, but knew it wasn't going to work.
"He doesn't have to know." She said, sounding smug. I wonder to myself how he wouldn't know- Gary does the deposit every morning, and he knows that she had a tab, and he'd see her check and the fact that she didn't pay her tab and... grr.
"But he would. He watches me on the cameras, and he would know."
"Well then I'll just go somewhere else! Thanks for nothing! I'm not paying my tab until he gives me the money he owes me!" She said, storming out.

I dislike very much getting yelled at for something that was neither under my control, nor that important. Her tab was $6.  The chicken tenders started looking really yummy- my mouth was watering. About fifteen minutes later Mr. Cobb wandered in. Mr. Cobb is an ass. He has often used his weight issue as an excuse to have me follow him around like a personal shopper. I know for a fact he stares at my ass when he makes me get the two-liters off the bottom shelf for him. Anyway, when he lumbered up to the counter I knew it wasn't going to be good.

"I've come to get my son's check." He said, and I could feel a migraine coming on. I faked checking my side drawer, knowing it wasn't there.
"I'm afraid it isn't here." Of course, I had already known that.
"Did he mail it?" He demanded- I need to learn to lie better.
"I believe he wants John to talk to him about it." I said, almost wincing as the words escaped my mouth.
"WHY DOES HE HAVE TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT? THERE IS NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT! YOU TELL GARY THAT HE BETTER JUST FUCKING MAIL THAT CHECK!" The man went from cool to nuclear in about .3 seconds. Thankfully, he then stormed out.

For the first time that shift I sat. I wrote Gary a note about both incidents (as politely worded as I could), and left it on his desk. I then scarfed down two chicken tenders. I was still wanting to eat more, but I already felt incredibly guilty.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. In my mind, I had nearly doubled in size. I could see my double chins, my flabby stomach, my flabby arms. I wanted to cry. Instead I strapped on my tennis shoes and went for a three mile run.

Afterwords, I felt a little better, but I still feel like a disgusting blob. I don't know why I feel that way- I'm overweight, yes. At 153 and 5'1, I'm clinically much heavier than I probably should be. I'm also built for strength, and play a heavy combat sport (I'm a heavy list fighter with the Society for Creative Anachronism).

I just want to feel thin, and pretty. Is that too much to ask?