Sunday, November 05, 2006

Sometimes it feels like, somebody's watching me...

So this weekend I all of a sudden remembered something that I totally had forgotten. I mean, totally. About X. Like when I even started with my shrink, soon after we decided to split, and I reeled off to her the litteny of things that were so awful about him. About our relationship. I forgot about this. The watching.

Before we were "seriously" involved but had been dating for a while I remember very clearly being out on a date with X. We were at what would become our favorite Chinese restaurant on West 72nd Street. And he said to me: "Are you putting on weight? You know, that sometimes women let themselves go when they're involved with somebody... and I was wondering if you've been putting on weight? It's very important for men to have women who are in shape."

I looked at him. Aghast! How could he?!? WHat was he saying? I said something like, what if I am? And something like: "but, but.... I thought that you love somebody no matter what?!? Weight isn't supposed to matter!" To which he responded something like: "That's what guys say, but that's not really what they feel. Ask any guy - they like women who are in shape, and yes, once the attraction wears off... because the woman has stopped taking care of herself.... well the guy will look elsewhere."

So, instead of stalking furiously out of the restaurant I thought "Really!? That's really how it is?! Am I so idealistic to think that things like that don't matter?!?"

And thus began X's obsession about how I look. What I wear, how I put on my make up, the color of my hair... And all of these things I have remembered But this weekend I remembered how he watched. me. He would watch what I ate. "You're eating a lot for such a little person." "Are you sure you want that? It's so fattening?" "Well, I don't know, should we go for that icecream? Have you gone for a run today?" Or just the look. Looking at me. Watching me. Passing judgement on every item of food that would pass through my lips.

So, I'd eat my treats at work. I"d sneak food when he wasn't there. Why I didn't just tell him to shut the fuck up and leave me the hell alone you stupid obsessive compulsive freak?!? I have no idea. Obvioulsy I had/have my own set of body image issues that would have allowed me to put up with that. Somehow believing him.

So, you know, soon after he moved out I lost weight. Lots of weight. And before I go on, something has to be clarified here. I have never, by any stretch of the imagination, been even what you would call fat. Or even somebody you would look at an think "she needs to lose a few pounds. My ideal weight is 105-107. I usually hover around 110-113. I think the most I've ever been is 118. But, since I am small each pound really does make a difference. It makes a difference as to how my clothes fit, etc, etc.

After X moved out I went down to 105. Just like that. The pounds fell off. I felt so good. But now what's starting to happen is I feel like I'm puttning weight on again (and I don't know how much, I can just tell by how my clothes fit) & I'm realizing all these feelings it's conjuring up in me...

But it was just so weird to remember how that was... being in a restaurant, and thinking about what I *really* wanted to eat, but how I knew X would make a comment - so I'd order the steamed veggies, with the sauce on the side, and no, no thank you, I don't feel like dessert tonght.....


Gwen said...

Uggh, what a wanker! Especially since I don't seem to recall him being a picture of sculpted glory.

Aren't you so very very very glad you didn't give birth to girl children? Can you imagine? Someone needs to take away his breeding license, just in case he considers procreating with #2.

In all seriousness, Amy, I'm sorry you felt like you needed to put up with his shit for so long.

ALM said...

Yeah. I'm sorry, too, actually. :) Who knows what combination of baggage, ideas about marriage, neurosis (is that the same as baggage?), etc, etc kept me there. But at least I'm out & secure in the knowledge that it won't happen again.

Anonymous said...

Don't you ever get the feeling when you are really mad at someone, that you just want to run them over with your car?

If ever I am in the NYC...;)