glass ceilings and waffle makers

the day i almost ate breakfast

trigger warning: mentions eating disorders and body dysmorphia

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a few days ago i was in a hotel. i had to eat the hotel breakfast because i was in a hurry, and so i decided to make a waffle. it was one of those waffles where you pour the batter from the cup, with the prepackaged waffle batter dispensers.

not exactly the breakfast of champions…

but, it is very tasty. now—for whatever reason, i’ve never really been a breakfast person. i haven’t regularly eaten breakfast in the morning since i was probably 13. and i know this isn’t healthy and i know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but im just not a breakfast person

and it might seem trivial, but eating this breakfast was kind of stepping out of my comfort zone.

since i was already being a bit risky, i decided to put some whipped cream and chocolate chips on my waffle, alongside some strawberries and blueberries.

definitely not the healthiest thing in the world, but i was breaking boundaries this morning.

and as i was breaking through the “glass ceiling” of having chocolate with my breakfast—the man behind me in line has the sudden need to pipe in.

“WELL,” he says, “you’re certainly not on a diet”

i was flabbergasted. and suddenly very not hungry.

i laughed at his “joke” but i was enraged.

i had built up the confidence to eat this breakfast, i thought i was making progress towards my goal of eating three meals a day, but no. it was all ruined by seven cruel words.

i sat down, and had about 2 bites of my waffle before throwing it in the trash.

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all this man saw was a small girl, eating a big meal.

but what he didn’t see was the back and forth it took me to get there

should i eat breakfast now, or just wait until lunch,

the math i was doing in my head, counting the hours, the calories, the pounds.

he didn’t see the weeks of convincing—that breakfast isn’t a negotiation, it’s a routine. it’s healthy (although maybe this waffle wasn’t)

he didn’t see that this was an achievement for me. something i was proud of.

all he saw was a “witty” joke to be made.

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and so this brings me to my point. STOP COMMENTING ON WHAT I EAT.

whether its that man, my grandma telling me i “need some meat on my bones,” or my mom telling me “your skin would be better if you ate more vegetables,”

its just not your business.

and look, i’m a very average sized woman, but in today’s society, we average girls are still so insecure about our weight.

and if you couldn’t tell i don’t have the best relationship with food, so maybe if this conversation were to happen to someone else more confident, someone stronger. it would have meant nothing to them.

but we shouldn’t have to be strong to eat breakfast.

we shouldn’t have to brush of comments like this.

everyone should just mind their own business.

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and i’m sure that this man did not mean to resurrect my eating disorder.

and i’m sure that when my grandma said my legs and arms were very small she did not mean to belittle all of the progress i’ve been making in the gym, all the muscle i thought i built.

and i’m sure that when my mom commented on my acne, she did not mean to make me insecure once more. i’m sure she did not know i felt really good about my skin that morning.

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I’ve done it too.

I’ve made the offhand comments. The self-deprecating jokes.

“I’m eating so much,” said aloud like a shield, even when no one asked.

We learn this language early, and we speak it fluently — even when it hurts us and everyone around us

we live in a world that comments on women before it listens to them.

on their plates before their progress.

on their bodies before their bravery.

this is me asking you, telling you to stop.

people with eating disorders and body dysmorphia are so on edge, one word, one sideways glance will knock us off balance. so this is me letting you know, if you have experienced this, you are not alone, and to be more careful about these “jokes”

because they’re not funny.

they’re not witty.

they’re not small talk.

and they’re not ok.

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so i hope—that you eat that waffle.

i hope that you let your daughter skip a meal—but not too many meals

i hope that you don’t make comments on your granddaughter’s body, because she’s proud of it.

and I REALLY hope that you do not make comments about what some random woman in the hotel lobby is eating.

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let food be fuel,

let breakfast be empowering,

let people eat in peace.

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