ned be gone. and a bad southern accent.

not sure who ned is?

ned is the name for my nasty little

eating disorder, which was never

so little, unfortunately).

check my sidebar for

posts with explanations.

today at work i was standing by the bar, waiting to transfer a bar-tab (yes, yes, my parents are very proud) when one of the regulars asked me if i was losing weight.

this threw me off.

1. i did not know he was that regular

and 

2. this suggests i've been working there too long

i looked at him, surprised, and said, why do you ask?

why do you ask? i'm quite sure that's neither a usual or appropriate response to the question. in fact why do you ask, doesn't really make any sense in the context. but without thinking that's what came out.

he, perphaps more surprised than me, countered with, well, you are, aren't you? and then quickly added, it's never a bad thing to say to a woman is it?

i, realizing my mistake, said, no, no, of course not, thank you. 

having an eating disorder is like drowning. being thrust into cold, choppy waters and not knowing which way leads to the surface. 

and so in the past, these comments gave me a sense of direction--were anchors by which to grab hold. 

today, this comment was kind, but unimportant. now, the only useful and important feedback comes from myself and my beautiful body. 

holy smokes, did i just call my body beautiful?

why fancy that miss susan, i believe i did.  (this last line has to be said in a truly bad gone-with-the-wind-southern accent coupled with a little head bobble to make any sense, and even then it falls short, but...oh, well.)

ps: this was after a guest asked how i got my hair to look like that (i had it it in french-braided-pig tails that came together) and i told her it was quite easy because my hair was unbelievably dirty. euf. pretty sure you're not supposed to say that when you're working in a restaurant. the powers that be would not be pleased.