Being Fat - Part 1

[Note: This is a re-posting of my Facebook Note on August 25th 2008.  This took place during the first few weeks that I began trying to lose weight again, but before my first weigh in.  That's only important to know for the very first paragraphs, as the rest of this three part series will go into what it was like, growing up fat.]

The wait is the hardest thing to deal with, especially in these initial weeks before I see results. It's going to feel like it disappeared so quickly when it's over, but now it's still the beginning of a marathon.

Sure, I think I see results, and weight isn't everything, because weight doesn't directly measure fat loss as I gain muscle too, but seeing that number decrease is going to be one of the most motivating things that can possibly happen.

I think I feel my clothes fitting a little better. I think I see a slight change. I know I've added muscle mass. I feel the difference when I slouch, and no longer feel like my stomach is interfering with being able to take a full breath, and I can feel it easier to bend over and pick things up...

But still... seeing that number is important.


One thing I can't do

I can't trust myself.

I know I'm having some results, and I have to take whatever positives I can find, but that doesn't matter. I can try to logically tell myself that it's working but I can't get myself to believe in it 100% until the scale confirms it.

That's just the way my mind works. It's something I have to battle with.

Part of the reason it took me so long for it to finally hit me that I really need to make a good effort into losing the weight again is because it's hard for me to see what I look like. I can't be objective when I'm looking at myself with my own eyes, or even through a mirror. Mirrors lie to me. I've know this for a long time.


Two kinds of fat

I remember going to the pediatrician in the 3rd grade, and being told that I was 30lbs overweight. I remember having the talk from him with my mom there, trying to scare me by telling me what it'll be like when I grow up if I continue on the route that I was on. I remember going home, and my older brother finding out, and never letting me forget.

That part was the worst part. The constant put downs, sarcastic remarks, and even oinking sounds as I ate. There were all kinds of other remarks as well, but the weight was the main focus.

Yes, I was physically overweight, just learning that fact is tough to learn, but with my brother constantly reminding me, I was gaining mental fat as well. Every remark added to it, wearing away at my confidence, self-image, and self esteem. Every comment added to the shame.


Gaining Weight

I knew I was overweight, but it was hard figuring out what to do about it. I felt if I made any attempt at exercising, he would pop up from around the corner and make me feel stupid for the attempt. I somehow felt if that ever happened, I would be confirming it even more, and that terrified me. It doesn't make sense, but that's how it was.

The saddest thing is, looking at pictures of me at that time, I really didn't look all that bad. But because of the situation, it became bad. I didn't think there was anything I could do, and so I ate more, and gained more, giving more reason for him to continue what he was doing, which led to me gaining more.


7th Grade - Middle School

By the time I was in 7th grade, and saw my school ID, I couldn't believe the picture that I saw. I finally saw myself as my parents saw me, and understood why they had become so concerned about me for the past year.

But still I didn't think there was anything I could do. I tried simple stuff, like maybe just eating a grapefruit for breakfast, or a salad. But then one of those times my brother saw me eating a salad, and made a cutting remark about how eating salad doesn't matter if eating it with as much ranch as I was using.


8th Grade

A year came and went, and I'd get comments from my mom or aunt, commenting to me on how much better I looked. I didn't believe them. They're just family. They're supposed to do that.

I was in the 8th grade now, and there was this girl that I thought was cute in Spanish class. She would always try to talk to me, and always want to wear my hooded sweater. I couldn't understand why. I was so fat.

I hadn't gone on some miracle diet or anything. I was eating the same as I had been. I'd look in the mirror, and it'd confirm it for me. I'd step on the scale. Yup. Still fat.


9th Grade - High School

I was put into Spanish 1 with the sophomore's because of the elective I took in 8th grade. There was a group of cute sophomore girls in there with me, and they knew who I was because my older brother introduced me to one of them when he gave me a tour of the place the day before school started. She introduced me to the rest of them, and one of the said, "Wow, he's little version of Brian."

That was crazy talk. Brian was one of the cool people. He was into cars, had all the cool clothes, and everyone thought he was cute. They must've meant I was a shorter, but fatter, version of him. Not just a little version of him.

I was going to forever be fat. So what did it matter if we had an open campus, and McDonalds was right there. What did it matter that I was introduced to Jack n the Box, and the Ultimate Cheesburger and Seasoned Curly Fries. What did it matter when one of the girls noticed that I was buying two things of Twix or Reese's Pieces or Snickers every day and said, "Ooo, if you keep that up you're gonna get fat."

I already was.


10th Grade

Maybe I wasn't. I saw a picture of myself from the year before. What the heck happened! I was fat wasn't I? But that guy in the picture is wearing my clothes. Well... my growth spurt had happened. I guess between 7th and 8th grade. The scale said I was heavier than before, but I was taller now, and the fat had disappeared...

But during my freshman year, my eating habits got even worse, and the weight was back. I had lost it all. I had what I had wanted for so many years now, wondering what it would be like. And I hadn't known it. And now it was too late. It was back. I had a chance to keep it off, but in my head I had always been getting heavier and heavier, and so didn't even know I could make the attempt.

So my body was back to where my mind had always been.


To be continued...

This post is long enough as it is. If you've gotten this far... well... you'll just have to wait til tomorrow (or tonight maybe) for me to finish what was initially going to be a short entry only to transform into an abbreviated story about my lifetime of being fat.