It’s personal, damn it!

Last Saturday was interesting.

I had the pleasure of hanging out with Ava and Rynn, at Ava’s pool, for a short spell right before I was to hang out with yet another wonderful friend in my life, Shian.

Shian and I were going to go to an art show thing, of one of Shian’s friends, right before we were gonna do dinner, and, something Ava had said earlier, at the pool, in response to one of my life complaints (my work/home life can SUCK it BIG right now and I got a lot of complaining ta-do), became even more profound as my day, then evening, then late night, as it rounded out, went on. That thing Ava said is now the crux of this post.

Ava said, “It’s personal.”

Yes. It is, damn it.

Whatever it is, whatever the stress, the bliss, the problem or the resolution, it’s personal. It’s our struggle, our victory, our downfall or our strength. But it’s ours, and it is personal.

It may look matter of fact to others, easy as pie to them, cuz’ it ain’t their shit they’re going through, or, because they may have already conquered the weight of it, i.e., they’ve gotten the good and the better job, they’ve met the right man, or woman, they’ve found the right home, they’ve given up the shitting on their self and won’t let anyone else do it now, their esteem is fixed, or they’ve learned the lesson in life that keeps repeating on us. But while it is still in our lap, it’s more than personal.

It’s the air we’re breathing, sputtering on, or the gulp that’s gotten choked off and is about to break us.

That’s what I am getting at. If we haven’t done that that yet, if we’re still working on that it Now, trying to get it, work for it, or get over it, it’s still personal to us. And they, those others, those not close enough to us and in our “know” of friendships, they don’t get to trivialize this big stuff in our life and matter-of-fact us into a stupid conversation corner.

Sure, they still will say what they will. But, in my opinion, they should stop and think before hoofing stuff off the cuff and think’n: It ain’t no big deal, when they trudge on sensitive subjects. (Just a little respect, pleaz, strangers.)

How did this start? This: It’s personal, thing?

I told Ava and Rynn that I was sick of people at work, who I don’t even know, coming up to me and saying, “Hey, you’ve really lost a lot of weight recently,” and Ava got why that’s been bothering me. When Ava got it, I felt understood, because seriously, she got it.

In a bad reiteration, because Ava has these amazing moments of clarity I can’t always repeat, but in a wonderful summary of what I took away, Ava said, “It’s personal.” Then I said, “Right?!”

No shit. It is personal. Personal, personal, personal. The word means something.

As Ava further clarified, and I’ll do my best to say it as succinctly and eloquently as she put it, there are so many factors that have gone into me losing weight, and so much that goes into anyone losing or gaining weight, or anyone doing anything that is that personal, that when people, who I don’t even know, comment on my weight, or anything else that is so close to the stress or bliss of my life, those comments feel like they’re trespassing.

Plus, as a women, who identifies with her weight (body image), or, as a person just trying to get through it all, the results of my weight, gained or gone, or the product of my efforts, jacked up or down, aren’t a topic of conversation I want to share with people who I’m not intimate with.

Even if they don’t mean to (and I know people are inherently good), they’ve crashed a big friggen gate and that gate was supposed to have a private code of entrance where only close family and friends are allowed to sit on the curb. I didn’t post the open house sign, folks.

Think about it. What if I’d been gaining weight in the wake of all this shitty moving/home/job stress? Would these strangers come up and say, “Wow. You’re really packing it on. Are you porking out, or what?”

No. No they wouldn’t. So why, when just as much that is that personal goes into losing weight, as what goes into gaining weight, do people, I don’t even know, feel like they have the right to go there just because my weight is lost instead of found?

Any one of my close friends, or my mom (cuz moms are a separate category onto themselves), can say what they feel compelled to say about my weight.) Okay…my ass is bigger, or, it’s too small. My crows feet are wink’n more, get’n deeper. My life choices are suspect. I’ve traded jacked instead of up for home and job lately. Shoot, even my single status is almost old and ripe for interrogation by those close to me.

But the rest of ‘em? Nope. Shoosh the frig up! If I didn’t complain to you specifically, on any of that crap, and ya aren’t my inner circle, really? Did you just go there? What gave you the right to take the heat off of looking at yourself to trespass on me?

Again, this is what I am asking. They don’t know me. They don’t love me like my friends and family do. So, do these other people have the right to know how I’ve been eating good since I was 13 years old to fight against my shit genetics? Does the weird bitch in the work-place bathroom, who I’ve never seen before, need me to tell her that a lot of hard work and good food and exercise have been my winning combination in losing weight, in spite of those genetics?

Is it her business, or any other person’s business, who doesn’t actually have a friendship investment in me, to know that my thyroid crashed 7 years ago and I’ve been fighting to lose the weight I’ve finally recently lost, for that 7-8 years that I gained it, and that running, every other day for the last 6 months straight, seems to be the win that’s gotten me to my recent thin? Or, that I’ll probably gain 15-20 pounds when my life calms down.

I’m think’n, still, NO. It’s none-ya-biz-ness if ya don’t know me.

Okay, yeah… I’m a blogger/writer, and I am put’n so much out there, but that is so different. Here, in this blog, I am choosing, with my anonymous name/not real photo, to bear it all. In other situations, where people don’t know don’t know that I have a blog, and where they just come up to me, and say shit, which is as good at telling some chick at the mall that her wig sucks (and not knowing she has cancer), it’s sometimes too much.

I appreciate that nothing should be off bounds, if we’re all on that really human level and really caring. But, again, the whole reason so many folks call others out, an proverbially look at the cellulite of the stars in the summer bathing suit issue of a B.S. tabloid, is to get the heat off of looking at their own crap. And, to that end, not cool.

Anyway, this was one of my rants, and I know sometimes Miss Sunshine is bright, and other times she’s gone back to pissing on daisies, but I say amen to to getting it all off of your chest.

May your days be fabulous, and if they aren’t, may you have a friend who gets what is personal while you are on your way to fabulous and complaining along the way!!!

Sigh.