One time, a number of years ago, I was with three friends checking out the bar scene on Rush Street in Chicago (and by a number of years, I mean I was still in my 20s). None of us was particularly overweight, though I was – as usual – self-conscious about my appearance. As we walked toward a group of four young men, one of them said, “What’s up ladies? Besides your weight.” I have never forgotten that. And each time I get on the scale and there is an uptick, I am sorry to say that those words come back to me. I have worked hard to develop a more robust self-esteem than I possessed all those years ago. In addition, I can’t really remember conversations I had yesterday. But my psyche has held on to that one cruel comment, and now I own it. Why is it so easy to grab ahold of bludgeons people use against us, and so difficult to let them fall away?