The Girls Made Me Cry Today
I'm having a terrible day and I don't really want to talk about it.
But a lot of people like the insight into a brothel receptionist's job - and this is part of it. I don't believe in not talking about uncomfortable things.
But first, a little back story. I'm morbidly obese - I have struggled with my weight forever. I have severe psoriasis all over my body that does not respond to any treatment. Please do not ask me if I have tried X Lotion. I probably have. I have severe depression and anxiety problems. That's partly due to the psoriasis which has seriously damaged my self esteem.
I came into work in a really good mood only to be told that one of the girls was pissed at me for telling her last night that she was perhaps a bit too drunk (she was flashing her tits at everything in sight and practically mounting people on the street). She was behaving in an extremely trashy manner. She was threatening to leave because of me.
I got over that. Whatever. Ramblings of a drunk woman. She apologized. (But then continued drinking constantly and yelling at me for random things).
Then later, someone made a (supportive) comment to me about how it's got to be hard to be in the shadow of the receptionist everyone loves (who started last week, by the way). She went on to confess to me that one of the girls had made comments about how disgusting I look and how I should wear sleeves to my wrists to hide my skin.
It took me about 8 years of overheating and feeling miserable on a daily basis to feel comfortable even wearing 3/4 sleeves - another several to wear tshirts. So I just hid in the bathroom and cried like a little girl.
The girl who told me (rightfully) told me not to care about it. I know I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't care when they call me "fat slut" either. But I don't have a hard shell to protect me. I don't have the self esteem to just get through that and let it roll off my back. I just crumple.
20 Comments
Recommended Comments