I didn’t want any cake.
To be fair, the cake looked like one of those gross grocery store cakes. You know the ones–covered in sugary white icing. More icing than anything else on that cake. God, I hate cakes like that. I take most of the icing off cupcakes, too.
So, I politely refused to have any cake.
Someone made an eating disorder joke at me. He quipped, “Well, you can just throw it up later.”
Not cool, dude.
I don’t have an eating disorder. I never had an eating disorder. I’m skinny though, so people often imply that I do have one. Do you even eat? Why are you so skinny? Yeah, I’ve heard it all and I don’t care.
My cousin suffered with anorexia during her teens. It was really hard on all of us. So, I didn’t find this joke funny in the slightest. In fact, it was really a stupid and fucked up thing to say to a perfect stranger at a birthday party. What if he had said that to her, instead of me? What if I actually did suffer from bulimia, and I was in fact, planning on throwing up my dinner later?
Eating disorders are really private. People do not flaunt that they have an eating disorder. Body image issues cause anxiety and depression. Bulimia causes tummy aches, shame, and decaying teeth. It’s not funny. People try to keep up the facade of looking great while suffering for it in private. That’s why it’s fucked up–even a bit intrusive–to make light of it, because it is in fact very serious and very private.
I looked him dead in the eye, muttered “I am bulimic” and abruptly walked away. A few girls followed me out and comforted me. It made it look like I’m bulimic and he was an insensitive asshole. He was so awkward for the rest of the night and went home alone.
Because fuck that guy. That’s why.