I had a business meeting a long way from home this week, and since I was travelling there and back in a day I decided to go on the train. The meeting went well, all except for the Ben & Jerry’s vending machine which randomly stood right outside the room we were using. It was almost as though someone had put it there to torture me.
I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that my head spent at least half the time out in the corridor mentally choosing which flavour I’d dive into first, given half the chance. Clearly there are some bloody tough meetings that go on in that room if they need to keep emergency ice-cream on hand…thankfully I managed to resist, despite the Asshole voice giving it his best shot.
Anyway, as I waited for my train home I bought lunch from the coffee shop on the platform. The lady in front of me in the queue had an armful of stuff, and made a big deal of pointing out to the lady who served her that not all of it was for her. I don’t know why, but I knew right in that moment that actually, it was.
As sure as eggs is eggs. She sat across from me in the same carriage, a little way down the aisle, and over the course of the two hour journey she worked her way through three packs of sandwiches, four bags of crisps and several bars of chocolate. I tried hard not to watch you know? It was none of my business but if I’m honest, I was a bit choked.
I was her, only a few months ago, and it really got to me.
There’s a certain methodology when you binge, that I recognised. Watching her felt familiar, but horrifying. Passing comment when she bought the food, about it not all being for her, well I’ve done that a hundred times and that’s how I knew.
Haha no, of course not all for me! I’ll take a couple of each flavour, I’m not sure which they’d prefer…I’ll take a selection then they can choose. This should keep them quiet for a while….me, I could have been on the stage.
She positioned the bag out of sight, under her coat on the seat beside her. She never had more than one sandwich wrapper in front of her at any one time, empty packets were quickly tucked out of sight, and every time she pulled another thing out of the bag she did a quick recce first to see if anyone was watching. Her body language made her look as guilty as sin, furtive and uncomfortable. She didn’t look as though she was enjoying what she was eating, and yes, she was very fat.
Please understand I wasn’t judging her, in fact nothing could be further from the truth. I felt sadness, and empathy and every bit of me wanted to reach out to her. But…well, you just can’t, can you? I can imagine the reaction it would have provoked in me, if some random stranger had stuck their sticky beak in and dared to address how much I just ate. Rage, humiliation, shame and undoubtedly a desire to rip their head off.
Quite apart from risking a smack in the chops, I had no right to intrude on a moment where she was probably feeling shit about herself anyway, if she was thinking, or feeling anything at all. Not my business. But, I cared, even if I couldn’t tell her.
I wanted to tell her all about the sweet spot, and the asshole, and the posse, and the chatter. I wanted to include her in the laughing and the relating, and the supporting. I wanted her to have what we all have. And it just made me think, how lucky am I, to have this safe place where you all understand, and even though we’re all working through our own issues, and yours might be different to mine it feels like we’re in it together you know?
I wish I could have told her ?
