Every time I turn around, there’s a subtle reminder that I’m overweight. I just pulled something out of the oven, and it was a struggle to pull the oven mitts over my pudgy hands. There are dozens of little incidents like this every day, and they really eat away at my self confidence.
Another reminder: I need a haircut. This is something I enjoy, right up to the end when the barber (Footnote 1) pulls out the mirror to show me the back of my head. That’s when I see the rolls of fat on the back of my neck. I realize, again, that this is how others see me when I am facing the other way.
1. Are they called hairstylists now?