Things have changed with fat. I don’t know when we started growing apart, but I imagine it started sometime in my mid twenties.
We got along pretty well back in the day. When I studied abroad in college, I gained a good 20 pounds. “All the clothes I brought here to Paris are so dated and grimy,” I told myself. “I should buy a whole new parisian wardrobe.” I weighed myself in Kg and bought clothes in European sizes, so I somehow didn’t even notice that I’d gained twenty pounds. “Size 44? I don’t know what that means, but it fits!” And, “No don’t tell me the conversion rate to pounds, thank you.”
It was all good, because fat and I were cool.
“Hey,” said fat, “where do you want me to go?”
“You’re not on your way out?” I asked.
“Nah, you had like, three croissants. I’ll be sticking around. Just tell me where to go”
“Um, my boobs?”
“Cool, got it.”
“Thanks fat! You’re the best!.”
When I came back from Paris, I realized that none of the clothes I had at home fit me anymore. I also weighed myself in pounds for the first time.
“Hey fat, it’s been great, but I think I’m gonna let some of you go,” I said.
“That’s cool. I’ll see you in a bit, I’m sure.”
“Ok,” I laughed. “We’ll see.”
Now, maybe fat was bitter that I let so much of it go after I came back from France, but we haven’t been on as good terms lately.
“Hey,” says fat. “I’m gonna hang out on your belly.”
“What? I only had one croissant. Shouldn’t you be on your way out?”
“Nah, one was enough apparently.”
“Really? Well, you can totally go to my ass. That’s cool with me.”
“Um, I’m gonna say no thanks. I like it right here.”
I know there is a biological explanation for why fat sticks to your more flattering areas around puberty and for only a little while after, but I refuse believe that is the reason. Fat and I just aren’t as cool as we used to be. Friendships change and friendships fade. Although fat is like family to me, so we’ll have to keep working on this relationship. We are, afterall, going to see a lot of each other around the holidays.
