It was bound to happen eventually...I broke a chair in public yesterday.
I went to my optometrist's office after work yesterday because my new glasses aren't as sharp as I think they should be and I only have a 30 day warranty to get them fixed. I went over to the assistant's table and she asked me to have a seat. I could already tell me and this chair weren't going to be friends because it was pretty narrow, and it had arms conveniently placed to cut right into my fattest section. In order to save awkwardness, I squeezed the back half of my ass in there and sat down as best I could. She took my glasses and said she'd be back shortly. I took that as my cue to try to find a way to fit my whole ass onto the chair seeing as how I'd probably be there for a while. So here I am trying to slyly scoot and push my way to the back of the chair when it happens...CRACK...sounded like a baseball bat breaking in half but no one even looked over in my direction.
Turns out the seat of the chair had pulled away from the arm. It seemed fixable enough so I just climbed my fat ass out and stood to assess the damage. I fixed it as best I could and pushed it like way outta the way and moved another chair up to the table. I felt like a guilty child trying to cover my ass after breaking something at my mean aunt's house. I also felt consumed by guilt as images of an elderly lady sitting in that chair tomorrow and breaking a hip on her inevitable trip to the floor forced their way into my brain. I hope that doesn't happen.
I mean, eventually someone's going to find out that the chair is broken. And inevitably, that assistant is gonna realize that I was the fattie trying to squeeze ten pounds of potatoes into a five pound bag...or chair. So, I should have just told them what I did. I should have just said "I'm sorry, this chair is broken." and it probably wouldn't have even been that big of a deal, but I didn't, and I couldn't, and still today, I feel like shit about it. I can't admit to shit. It's a big problem for me. It dates back decades, like being 5 years old and changing the sheets so no one would know I peed the bed at night. I never got caught, so no lesson learned. 25 years later, I wish I would have just got the ass whipping so I could move on.
In true "you're pathetic" fashion, I left that ordeal and buried it in a large pepperoni pizza. The whole thing. Well, I left one slice but only because the cat licked it. Man. I have no excuse.
I'm bummed. It's been a shitty week. I've felt fatter than ever. From the heavy breathing anytime I do ANYTHING, to having to struggle to get in and out of my tiny clown car (which isn't that tiny, by the way.) All the shit at work. All the times I fucked up on my diet. The generally shitty attitude I've had all week. I'm sick of it all. Needless to say, I'm glad it's Friday.