The Stupid Sister

No? Does that bother you? I’m not sure why, seeing as how you don’t even like your her. You tell anyone who will listen and rarely go home for holidays. What? What was that? Oh, so you think your sister is stupid? So what’s the problem? Why is it that, even if you agree wholeheartedly with my sentiments, that it seems somehow inappropriate for anyone other than yourself to comment on the obvious lack of intellect with which your loved ones were gifted?

You’re mumbling. I didn’t quite catch that? Oh, you don’t know why? That’s just the way it is? You don’t take too kindly to others doing the name calling? She’s your family, not mine? I can think it but I’d better not say it?

Okay then. I’ll play nice. But turnabout is fair play, my friend. I’ll respect your right and your family and keep my jokes to myself if you can stop being an idiot about a teensy weensy little issue I happen to be dealing with, myself. I have to admit that I’m even embarrassed to be bringing it up, but I guess it’s better to get it all out in the open, right?

I’m not trying to be overly sensitive. But you know about the bulimia and the body image issues and the whole body image cheer-leading train I’ve jumped on, right? I’m not here just to blow sunshine up other people’s asses, my friend. I’m here to help me by helping others because that, in that Circle of Life Kind of Way, helps me continue to help because that’s usually how this shit works; Yin & Yang and all that jazz.

So when I see careless social media updates making light of eating disorders, even if they aren’t meant to hurt my feelings because you’d never dream of doing that, I get a bit pissy. And then I get pissy that your words got under my skin because if I’d never stuck my fingers down my throat to let the feelings I couldn’t deal with just fucking escape already, I’d probably be laughing with you and everyone else who doesn’t get it. I’m jealous that you don’t understand and can laugh.

I’m mad that I do and I can’t.

I’m not ‘bulimic’. I’m a ‘conscientious recycler of edible organic material.’ — says Nobody In Particular.

I had to read that twice to make sure I understood it. Then I got mad. And even madder still when I realized I wanted to ask you if you ever actually had been bulimic because if you are or were or were planning on starting tonight, then, in a darkly comedic and self-deprecating kind of way, your joke would be funny. It would be…

…acceptable.

Can you maybe follow up with a disclaimer? No…actually it’s probably better that you don’t. I’m not sure how either answer would make me feel. If you made the joke because Bulimia is your stupid sister, I will smile and laugh with you.

Secret Hand Shake In The Club.

If Bulimia isn’t even a distant cousin, I’m happy for you for not ever having dealt with the emotional hell that comes with internalizing everything to the point of food and self becoming the enemy. But I’m also pissed because that means you called my stupid sister stupid.

Even if she is.

 

Pauline Campos is Latina Magazine’s advice & relationship columnist, editor of the ebook anthology, Strong Like Butterfly, and a radio personality with a regular advice segment on NPR’s Latino USA show.  Pauline blogs three times a week at Aspiring Mama (or when she remember to take her Adderall) & is the founder of Girl Body Pride. Strong like Butterfly is currently available on Smashwords. This post originally appeared on Aspiring Mama.