No Good Deed

It has been said many times that no good deed goes unpunished. Well today proves that true. I take the time to bring Jen a coffee while she’s at work, she hat a flat, a bad morning, and I had some free food coming at her restaurant. So I figure I’ll go do that, get my free food, and call it good.

The first thing of any substance she says to me is how much weight I’ve gained back. I’ve been struggling with my weight for a while, it is hard, I’m depressed and all I want to do is eat. Still, I know that I’m fat. I know that I’m too fat. I know that I’m ugly and that I’m old and that I’m going gray and losing my hair. I know that my struggle means nothing already. I just thought perhaps she might realize that I know how fat I am, that I’m a loser, after all I was too much of a loser to keep her. So, now I just want to go, but I can’t. I’ve ordered already, and so now if I go I give up the free dinner here, which I like the food here. I like to eat. Now all I want to do is crawl into a ball and die.

Everyone knows that I’ve been depressed for a good long while, and it has just been getting worse. It makes me realize a great many things, about my mother and her yoyo-dieting, remembering her sisters calling her fat and making snide comments, which lead her to come home and stop the store on the way to pick up a frozen cheese cake, one of those Sarah Lee deals, then eat the whole thing. After she’d find another diet, and kill herself trying to keep it. It makes me realize how painful it is for a women to have men stare at her when she eats, because now I feel the entire room is looking at me and watching me eat, so I best get something healthy.

One might say that it was a good thing, I need to lose weight, and thus I should feel self conscious as some kind of driving force to get me to eat better. Of course that isn’t the whole story, is it? That isn’t how it really works. I want to go home, I want to get into bed, and I want to sleep. Just… Sleep… Sleep until perhaps the world passes me by, until I’m shriveled up and no one remembers me, then perhaps be let slip from this world as an act of mercy.

Somehow I’m supposed to be sorry for being hurt by Jen’s words.

Maybe I should be, maybe I’m the asshole. Or maybe I’m just not worth her time anymore and I deserve what I get.

I have gone through a lot of my life trying to love myself, like myself, and right now I feel as if this was all for nothing. Not only that, I feel I was stupid to think I deserve to ever be loved or liked by anyone, let alone myself.

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