Not fat, just fluffy.

In the last few days, I've gotten this comment no less than three times: "You look like you've lost weight!"

I am not sharing this to brag. I'm sharing it because of my prototypically nutsy reaction. The first time, I was pretty pleased. I definitely lost some weight as soon as I started working again, since both the sit all day in class/drink beer every night graduate school phase and the my mom is an amazing cook and I live at home and can't find a job so why not eat phase ended. And this summer I've been working hard to eat right and exercise every day, though I am not the best exerciser and Ben and Jerry's fro-yo is included in my "eat right" plan. But yes, I have dropped a little bit of weight. And since I carry all my weight in the tummy/chest area, I think it's more noticeable than it might be.

So when my coworker who has been dieting post baby said it, I returned the compliment and said, you know, thank you, yes i've been trying to be more body-conscious, and walked around feeling a little better about myself. Then a nurse said it, and then, today, one of my patient's daughters said it. And while beggars can't be choosers, I'm beginning to not be flattered by the comment.

I mean, let's think about it. The patient's daughter is the best example; we had a long conversation on Friday, about her weight no less, and she never said a word. I can guarantee you I have not lost weight since Friday, but she wasn't just trying to be nice--she genuinely believed I had. In essence, then, she and everyone else are basically telling me that they think of me as heavier than I am, that the me in their memory is porkier than the me standing in front of them. And everyone has said it with appreciation, so clearly the me in their memory is not as good looking as the me in front of them. And since I have no illusions that the me in front of them is but so great-looking in her boring rehab therapist clothes, I have real sadness for the super plain-jane me in their memory.

Speaking of the clothes, the daughter today and I decided maybe it was just my outfit; being a Sunday, I went a little casual, rocking some jeans and a dark t-shirt as opposed to my standard issue shower-ready khakis/shirt combo. So my aura of being complimented quickly faded as I realized that I had just learned my weekday attire makes me look fatter. I shouldn't be surprised, I tend to think of flattering clothes as unprofessional, especially for my profession. Which is not a big deal, except now I'm going to obsess over whether I look chunky as I get ready for work.

Sigh. I'd ask if I'm overthinking this, but I pretty much always know the answer to that question. It takes a special ability to be this neurotic, and I'm sure everyone's jealous they don't have it :)