I've Been Outed

Writing for the Chubby Girl Brigade is something I've not told many people about. It's not that the CGB is something I'm not proud of—quite the contrary. I like what we do here. I think we've created an online community that women can relate to where we don't whine endlessly about our thighs or talk about how much happier we'll be when we only weigh 120 pounds or how everyone watches us when we eat in a restaurant because frankly, there are enough places to read that kind of stuff. So yeah, I'm really proud to be a part of this.

However, when I end up talking face to face to someone about the CGB, this is how it generally goes:

Someone: "So, what do you do?"
Me: (After I get through all the hats I wear—mother of three, design and pre-press *ahem* genius, and wife of Zippy or, as he says, Lord of the Underworld— I get around to the CGB) "....and I work on a website called the Chubby Girl Brigade."
Someone: "What's that about?"
Me: "Um....it's a website for women that are chubby."
Someone: "Uh....is it porn?"
Me: "Um, no. More like an online support group."
Someone: "Oh, so you're sharing diet tips." (Usually, at this point, there are barely concealed snorts.)
Me: "Um, maybe more like joking about being fat."
Someone: "YOU TELL FAT JOKES?! WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ARE YOU?"

Based on that completely unembellished recount of actual conversations, perhaps you can see why I don't talk about my involvement in the CGB. In fact, the first rule of CGB is to not talk about CGB. Hah! I kid.

So it should come as no surprise that my own mother didn't know what I was up to.

I meant to tell her. Really, I did. But when we launched the site, she was involved in The Wedding Of The Century To End All Weddings Of All Centuries. And then, once The Wedding  Of The Century To End All Weddings Of All Centuries was over, there was another Family Situation that I believe should end in the castration of an unnamed soon-to-be ex-family member. And then there were new babies. And hurried flights where, if you remember, I did not get bumped for chub. And then, it was just easier to not talk about it rather than explain it.

Which is what I seem to be doing here.

Anyway, recently my sister, Beanie, had her very first CGB article published, and I thought it was really funny. I told Beanie that she should be very proud of it. Then I thought, "Boy, Mom would get a kick out of this." Then I realized that Mom didn't know.

How do you tell someone you talk to several times a week that you've been involved in something that you've never once breathed a word about?

Aside: there was a time, when I was 16, that my mom and I were in a car together. She very solemnly said, "Jerilyn, there's something I have to tell you."

I very nervously said, "Ok, what?"

She said, "Your father and I are getting divorced."

I freaked out.

She said, "HAHAHA, I'm kidding." And then she told me something about my brother.

That story, FOR WHICH SHE STILL APOLOGIZES, is pretty much how I saw the telling of my involvement with the CGB going.

Me: "Mom, there's something I need to tell you."

Mom: "OK."

Me: "I've been writing for a website about being chubby."

Commence with the freaking out and crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Based on that imaginary conversation, perhaps you can understand how nervous I was to talk about it. Or perhaps not. I tend to be a somewhat paranoid person.

One day last week, I got a call from another sister who said, "You know how Mom does that thing when she's laughing so hard that she can't make any sound?"

I said, "Why yes, that is very funny to watch."

My sister said, "Well, she's doing it RIGHT NOW while reading the Chubby Girl Brigade."

I'd been outed. There was no, "Oh great! Now my daughter will never be thin, what with fame and fortune coming to her as a chubby person!" There was laughter. The laughing-so-hard-that-she's-not-making-noise actually came as a very pleasant surprise.

I then spoke to my mom and quickly gave her all the excuses I just outlined in this article. She bought them, I think.

She went on to list the following:
1. She did NOT pass down any genes for flabby upper arms.
2. Any supposed writing talent I have must have come from her side of the family.
3. It's a spatula, not a pancake turner. (Ha! Random Inside Family Joke!)
4. Some of you that are leaving comments need to clean up your language or she'll wash your MOUSE OUT WITH SOAP. (Ha! Punny! Total Mom joke!)

So, be nice. My mom is watching.

Comments

[Miss Laura]

Not only have I compared Santa to Humbert Humbert, but I once compared Godspeed You Black Emperor (known for their apocalyptic bleak hopeless monologues over dire, doomy blasting music) to Sunday School. I don't think I'm "mom approved" so I apologize beforehand. But when asking forgiveness I usually provide chocolate to ease the forgiving process so it's not so bad.

[Kim Siever]

Good luck, Jerilyn. My mum found my blog too, but I am certain she did not laugh hysterically. I probably even offended her a few times.

[Jerilyn]

Actually, she has very thick skin (or so she says). However, I'm sure the references to being a Democrat in my personal blog were LOADS more offensive than anything else.

[Sarah]

I use so many swear words. I'm not really sorry about it, but blame me if you need to.

[Jerilyn]

EXCELLENT. A scapegoat. Exactly what I asked for for Christmas.