"Little Janet"
by Janet Sobczyk, 2021
I came to live in Omaha on my own when I was 20 and soon found a job at a retail jewelry store. The older co-workers made me feel like I had joined a work-family instead of just a group of co-workers. They helped me feel safer in this “big city.”
Working retail often means long hours every weekend with a day off during the week. I managed quick trips to Norfolk to visit my parents about once per month. The first holiday that I couldn’t make it home, one of the sales staff invited me to join her family. She was a single mom raising two sons and the meal would be at her parents’ house. Just the four of them. Perfect! I’m a bit introverted, so small groups help me feel less awkward.
Her parents were welcoming and funny, and served delicious comfort food. Her sons soon dubbed me “Little Janet.” She explained that they knew another Janet who babysat for them and was larger than me, and they began calling her “Big Janet.” I hoped not to her face!
At the time I was very slim but have always struggled with a distorted view of my size. With two older, slim sisters I saw myself as the chubby one, even if photos of the three of us revealed I wasn’t. So it was a relief to be dubbed the little one.
Fast forward through almost 40 years, different jobs, and raising five kids of my own. My tendency to enjoy comfort food had added many pounds. The memory of the nickname, “Little Janet” mocked me, and I wondered if I would always be overweight and tired like my dear Grandma Rose.
I had hope from the example of my mother, though, who had gone through the same struggle, and in her grandma years lost the extra weight. I wanted the same for myself as a new grandma. I didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy precious time with my grand-daughter.
That was my motivation last February to begin a journey with a weight loss clinic that my doctor approved. Now I feel much lighter and happier. The journey isn’t over but I enjoy shopping for clothes in a smaller size and not cringing when I look in the mirror.
Recently I was called a new name that made me smile. A crew of workers was removing our storm-damaged roof and debris lay on the ground. My little dog needed out so I carried her, tip-toeing out the front door and across the grass to avoid nails and shingles. As I set her down on the sidewalk to begin our walk I heard one of the crew call to a worker on the ground. In Spanish he told his pal to clear the path for the “abuelita.” Two things struck me about that sentence: the respect/ concern in his voice, and that he called me a “little grandma.” It made my day!
