There you go, I said it. We all know it, and yet nobody says it (until now). I know you’re trying to think of exceptions to the Sacred Size Rule, and, of course, there are many – but this commandment echoes in our heads whenever we meet new people who could potentially become our friends. We either think “She is out of my league, she is so fit and perfect she will not want to hang out with me” or “Whoa – I will make polite conversation, but I don’t want any part of this ‘go directly to heart attack’ scene.” Or, if the stars are properly aligned and all is right in the universe, you may meet someone and think “Ahhh….this is nice. We could share clothes and go out for frozen yogurt after our Weight Watchers meeting.”

Sometimes you can hear people almost admitting the rule exists. They’ll say things like “I can’t be friends with that skinny bitch ‘Oh, I’ll have a lemon slice and an ice cube – I’m starving after that 10 mile run!‘” or “I walked into the Mom meetup group and I swear it was an audition room for The Biggest Loser – I ran out just in case it was contagious!” or “If the only time you have ever weighed over 150 lbs. was when you were pregnant, we don’t want to hang out with you. If your thighs don’t touch when you stand with your feet together, we don’t want to hang out with you. If you’re one of those people who just can’t gain weight no matter what you eat, we don’t want to hang out with you.” These are actual quotes from real women. Really. Not kidding. The Sacred Size Rule exists. The rule clearly directs our behavior, but we can’t bring ourselves to admit that it is an actual rule.

When it comes to size and the rules we play by, I’m a double agent. I can work both sides of the fat/skinny fence. When I am not pregnant or about to get pregnant, or just after a pregnancy (if I can remember) I am about a size 10-12. For those of you who don’t have an official play book, size twelve is considered “the dark side” . Being a 12 and up lets you into a secret society of substantial women who, unapologetically, get doughnuts with their coffee; order The Firm online and then sell it, unopened, in a yard sale two years later; and spend a lot of time talking about the problems of all the ‘skinny bitches’ they know. Being smaller than a size 12 gains you access into another secret society of more traditionally cast women who, unapologetically, wear bikinis at the beach; secretly go on “cleansing diets” every few months, which can vary from a week of Slimfast and colon cleansers to a 3-day crystal meth trip to keep their weight in check; and spend a lot of time planning shopping trips and nights out to look their hottest and collectively turn heads. And I go both ways. Being on the verge of The Dark Side gives me access to both groups and I like it that way.

We all know people who have gone up or down 10 sizes and had to shift their social structure because their old ways and old friends were no longer compatible with their new stature. It happens. It makes sense. You do things with your friends. Things like Zumba or touring state fairs to find the best fried dough (I’m hearing good things about North Carolina). Can your friends make you fat? Sure, a little bit. They can also make you thinner. Ultimately who you are and how you are in the world is entirely up to you, but your friends certainly have influence. Of course you gravitate to people you share things with, be it common interests or BMIs. I am just saying it is time we all admitted it.

The Sacred Size Rule was addressed in the short lived sitcom Samantha Who? When Samantha (Christina Applegate) becomes accidental friends with Dena (Melissa McCarthy) and they cross the chasm. There is a difference of 10 or more sizes between Samantha and Dena and it is something that immediately strikes us as odd. We are not sure why it is wrong, because the Rule is a silent subconscious one – but we know it feels wrong. Samantha’s skinny friend frequently suggests that Dena doesn’t belong with them, a like-sized duo who built their friendship on exploiting the benefits of being hot. We learn Samantha had never given her super-sized friend the time of day before entering into a life-threatening coma, and that Dena stayed by her side faithfully until she came to. Samantha guilts herself into being friends with the fat girl, who is portrayed as needy and subservient to her more conventionally-sized friend. While the inception of this story is somewhat dubious, the tale is a groundbreaking one of epic bravery – two women unafraid to close that age-old divide between fat and skinny, brazenly claiming a true friendship amongst people who clearly cannot shop in the same store.

I understand that talking about women and weight makes everyone a little nervous. Anyone who is a woman or loves one knows that one wrong comment can throw a girl into a downward spiral where she spends months wearing over-sized kaftans and refusing to be photographed from the neck down. I often kid my husband “Are you calling me FAT?!?!” I say this in response to the most benign things; “Karen happens to be on the board and is a member at large.” I say it when he says the sweet things like “Karen is everything I want in a woman and so much more.” And I say it when he says the most random things like “Karen, can you pass the garbanzo beans?” I love this response. One, because it is funny; and two, because everyone around becomes incredibly uncomfortable. When people think a husband has just called his wife the F-word, they start to sweat and check the exits. I also love the way it takes all the power out of the imagined insinuation. Putting it out there shows the ridiculous nature of the whole thing. So what if he is calling me fat? In fact, my husband often answers by saying “No, I am not calling you fat- my fatty fatty bobalatty.” At this, folks begin to back away and dial 9-1 on their cell phones, waiting for the inevitable flying knives before dialing the last 1.

It makes us laugh every time.