Support Me, Support Me Not. Sabotage Me, Sabotage Me Not.
By Jennifer Sader

scha·den·freu·de
Pronunciation: 'shä-d&n-"froi-d&
Function: noun
Usage: often capitalized
Etymology: German, from Schaden damage + Freude joy
: enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others, to delight in another person's misfortune.

I don't think most people actually delight in the misfortune of others, but sometimes it seems easier to support friends when things are tough than when they're going well. It's sort of the converse of the fair-weather-friendship. It's easier to be the shoulder to cry on than a friend's cheering section, at least when that friend seems dangerously close to becoming more successful than I am in something I truly care about.

I'm the kind of person who immediately flips to the Shape Success Stories every month and checks out their height and weight. How much thinner is this person than me? Are they a lot shorter than I am? Worse, is their before weight lower than my current one? I compare myself to friends and family even though I know it's not a nice thing to do, especially when that friend is my husband. All hell can break lose on the home front because "honesty is the best policy" doesn't seem like such a great idea if the truth is that I'm jealous of his success. Jealousy is not a kind and loving emotion. Jealousy is the black sheep of the emotional family, the one we all would like to disown. Being unhappy because someone I love is happy makes me feel mean and small-hearted.

My dirty little secret (now out here for the entire world to see) is that sometimes I weigh more than my husband. He's short, and a runner and I'm a tallish woman with an hourglass figure. We're very close to the same height. When he's training hard, he gets skinnier and skinnier. I don't. I know it isn't fair or smart to compare myself to him in this way, but I can't help it, especially since I "know" that "women are supposed to be smaller than men."

When I'm close to my goal weight, I'm smaller than him. I really prefer it this way. I want to feel little and delicate (as much as I can with my size-ten feet). I like to think my husband can carry me out of a burning building if ever there is a need. But I'm just not whisk-away-dainty. Being a thoroughly modern and liberated woman, I know it shouldn't bother me that I can't be swept off my feet like Scarlet O'Hara. But sometimes it does.

Recently, after a few injuries, some time off from training (and some months of being a little too free with portions) I find myself eyeing him enviously. He's been training really hard and I haven't been able to. He's leaner and fitter than ever and though I'm not sure I'd want to emulate his two-hour training runs even if my doctor would let me, I hate the fact that he weighs less than I do again.

I'd feel like a horrible envious person except that I know that I'm not the only one suffering from compare and despair disease. Nor am I the only woman who thinks dark thoughts about fattening up her husband when he gets too "skinny." I've seen enough husband-and-wife teams in my Weight Watchers meetings to know that the husband always loses weight faster and that his wife always hates him for it.

All I can do is catch myself at this and try to mentally rein in my negative thoughts. Of course I'm not really angry with my husband for doing well. I'm angry with myself for not measuring up. I know from years of experience that mentally beating myself up every time someone seems thinner, prettier, smarter, funnier, or more whatever than me, is a losing game. That "Mirror, mirror on the wall" stuff only led Snow White's evil stepmother to a life of misery.

Perhaps I judge myself so harshly because it seems like everyone else is judging me too. Maybe the current makeover mania has made me oversensitive, but I always feel like Clinton and Stacey from What Not to Wear are behind the lamppost making fun of me and my clothes. I've done it myself, sitting in the mall with a friend, having a cappuccino and pointing out badly dressed women—"Does she have a mirror?"

I can only hope other people aren't as mean as I've been at times. But even if they are, I can't do anything about it. I only have to answer to myself, and I know that I'm the only one that can make me feel better. When I'm kinder and gentler to myself, it's a lot easier to be a good friend, a good spouse and to be genuinely happy for the success of others.

I've learned that when feelings of envy come up, it's time to look within myself to see where my feelings are truly coming from. I can't let bad feelings be a substitute for good actions. The more I wallow in shame and self-doubt, the less likely I am to reach my goals. The only thing that shuts up the nasty voices in my head is taking positive action. I can sit on the couch watching VH1's All-Access Hollywood, and compare myself unfavorably to Selma Hayek or I can get off my butt and go to the gym. Working out is the quickest and healthiest way I know to find real peace and the nasty voices in my head always get out of breath before I do.

Jennifer Sader is a freelance writer, part-time doctoral student and recreational athlete. She has completed several sprint and international distance triathlons and three half-marathons. Her next goal is to do the Columbus Marathon. She is supported in all her endeavors by her wonderful husband of ten years, Jesse Squire, who inspired her to do her first competitive event, a 5K run, at the ripe old age of 20. Email Jennifer Sader: jensader@yahoo.com

Photo: András