"You look like a bagel."

That's what my mom said to me today.

I was trying on some dresses from her closet, and she made a comment about how she didn't understand why I still had some belly fat even though I'd been running more.  I mentioned that I thought it was because I had eaten a bagel earlier in the day, and that I was bloated (I think I have issues with gluten).  She laughed, saying, "You look like a bagel."

And people wonder why I moved out of her house...

Even though I told her multiple times, my mom doesn't understand that she hurts people with the things that she says.  Whenever I tell her I was hurt by something she said, she refuses to listen, and somehow ends up blaming me for being too sensitive and restricting her freedom of speech.  But, if I could talk to her, these are the things that I wish I could say:

• That she doesn't know it, but the reason why I was so skinny in high school (she did make mention of this today, saying I was "too skinny" back then), was because I threw my lunch away every day.  When I went to work, I threw my dinner away too.  Every time food passed my lips, I hated myself, because I thought my own mother would love me less if I gained any more weight.
• That I'm never good enough for her.  I'm either too fat, or too skinny, or too short.  I walk too fast, I walk too slow.  And if I just tried to eat a peanut, maybe I would overcome my life-threatening allergy.  
• That I care more about my health and my self-image than the number on the scale.
• But that her years of senseless jabs about my body have left me permanent scarred.  I need to make the decision every day not to count my calories or restrict my eating.  I still think about getting liposuction, or diet pills, or throwing up my last meal.  But I make a conscious decision to maintain a positive body image, and I'm glad I'm no longer blind to that.
• That I study, work, volunteer, and keep my own house, and I still manage to run two or three times a week.  Sure, I could probably carve out a little more time to run, or try her snake-oil ab workouts, but there are things in my life that matter more me than the circumference of my midsection.  And I wish she would tell me she's proud of the things that I've accomplished, rather than kicking me in my sorest spots.
• That I don't run to lose weight.  I run to keep my mind healthy.  
• That every since I started running, I'm less and less hurt my her thoughtless comments about my body or my weight.  My body can do things I never thought I was capable of, and in light of that, who cares what I look like?

Sorry for the acrid nature of this post.  I don't want to say anything to my mom, because I know from experience, it will be unproductive.  So here I am, venting on my little corner of the internet.  

I hope I'll be back with something more positive next time.