Growing up FAT

I have missed out on so many things being obese, weighing 370 lbs. at my heaviest. Ah there I said it, I hate talking about my weight but here I feel comfortable doing it. I don’t feel like people are judging me and I don’t feel embarrassed. I know I am heavy and I am making a conscience decision to change for the better. I want to live my life, and not watch it fly by and miss out. It made me re live the past and brought up emotions about being fat and growing up.

Growing up fat was not an easy thing to do either, Anyone else who has been heavy their whole life know this all too well. I was constantly the butt of jokes made by pimply face teenagers who were more insecure than I was. They made fun of me because I was different and didn’t look like the rest of them. I remember 5th grade, me and my friend were playing on the playground at recess. The boys were playing basketball and the ball got away from them and rolled towards us. I picked up the ball in an attempt to help and return it. The boy came at me and pushed me against the fence. I had scrapes and scratches along my arm and hand. To make matters worse this all happened in from of the teacher who did nothing. I personally thought a teacher was there to protect children and prevent this from happening… Guess I was wrong about that. Of course this was not the only abuse I received for being overweight in school, I was tormented on a daily basis and dreaded every day I had to go. I became depresses and I ate and ate and ate. I gained more weight. As I entered high school most of the teasing had worn off, I assume it was because I was with more older kids who are more mature and didn’t care that I was fat.

I never thought 9th grade would start off with physical contact that I know now was highly inappropriate and undeserving. We had our first assembly of the year, how exciting! Me and a few friends sat on the bleachers and watched what was going on below on the gymnasium floor. I felt this hand behind me grab my back. I thought it was just an accident as we were close together sitting there. Then I felt it again. I know that this can’t be a mistake, and look behind me to see who it was. It was him, this kid who was the same age as me. He was grabbing my back and jiggling it and laughing with his friends. I was wearing a bra that was too tight and caused back bulges. He was grabbing me like I was a piece of meat, that I didn’t have feelings. That was the most painful experience I have ever gone through. After that day I became extremely self-conscience. I never thought someone would do that. How could they do that? This was my body, not yours.

It was all downhill from there. I started eating more and doing less. I hated school, and I hated life. I would cry myself to sleep almost every other night. I didn’t want to leave my house or my bed. At that point I contemplated suicide. I did so for the next several years. After high school graduation, I was alone. I had nothing to do all day. I was not currently enrolled in school and that left me too much time to sit around a feel sorry for myself. I became even more depressed and continued to think about suicide. I wanted to hurt myself but wasn’t sure if I wanted to end it all. I am not sure if feeling that pain would make things more real, or what. I still do not know. I tried sticking myself with needles, which progressed to me using a lighter to heat up the needles and poke myself with them. When that didn’t work I moved to something a little more scary. A razor blade.

I took apart my pink bic and held the cold piece of metal in my hand. I was shocked at what I was thinking and not sure what I was going to do. I flicked the razor blade across my skin and causes a small scratch that did not bleed. This time I put more pressure behind it and I got a cut with blood. I immediately freaked out and threw the blade down and grabbed some toilet paper to blot the blood from my wound. I bandaged it up and went to bed like nothing had happened. A few days passed since this scary incident. I again was feeling low and decided to cut again. I don’t know why I decided to do this to myself. I got another razor blade and held it in my hand. This time I held the edge on my upper forearm. I curled over to let my body block what I was about to do. A second passed. No pain, I didn’t feel a thing. I wondered if I had missed? but that couldn’t be I had placed the blade on my skin. I sat up straight and revealed my arm and looked in horror at what I saw. No scratch or even a tiny cut, I had gone much deeper and I could see fat bulging from the sides of my fresh wound. I opened my mouth and could not speak, tears started rolling down my cheek. What have I done to myself? Why did I do this? What should I do. A few minutes past and the blood began to flow. I quickly grabbed toilet paper and held to my arm, the blood was not stopping so I got more toilet paper. What should I do, should I tell someone what happened? Who would I tell? How would I explain this? Am I going to die? I grabbed a towel from under the sink and placed it on my arm and applied firm pressure to my gaping wound. I rocked back and forth as I sat on the toilet crying. The bleeding had finally stopped enough for me to look at the cut, I can’t believe I did this. I stood up and tried to wash the wound in order to avoid infection, I gently washed it under cold water. I couldn’t stop shaking. I grabbed a handful of band aids from the medicine cabinet and placed them along my wound. I gathered my emotions and walked out of the bathroom to my bedroom. I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.

The anger and confusion I felt I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I never want to return to that dark place in my life where I felt I had nothing to live for. I have a wonderful mother and an amazing dad who has since passed on. My crazy twin sister, life would be lonely and boring without her! These are the things I have to live for! I have friends who care about me, family who loves me. Who could ask for more? Because of that one kid who teased me in school, he made me forget that I am loved. How dare he do such a thing.

I have two inch scar on my left arm that I see every day, I try and hide it but people ask me what happened. I tell them I was accidentally burned on something, afraid to tell them the truth. I am telling you the truth because I know that you have gone through the same struggles that I have. Its hard living like this, but we can change. We are changing, we are losing weight and making our lives happier

Be proud of who you are and what you have accomplished, and remember you are loved!