If the reality shows have taught us anything, it's that you can't just lose weight, you have to have a story to it. Whether you were bullied as a child, beaten by a grandmother, or raised by wolves, is isn't enough to simply just want to lose weight. As annoying as that can be, unfortunately I do have a story to go with my weight loss, and it is pretty emotional and gripping. On second thought, maybe I should have tried out for The Biggest Loser.
For as long as I can remember, there was always two things I knew. I was fatter than the other kids, and I just didn't feel "right". Of course, when you are 14, you can't really understand what depression is, you can only know that things just aren't the same as they are for other kids. You see them laugh and cry, have a wonderful time doing the simplest things like swinger or playing tag. You wonder why you don't feel what they do. Oh sure, you can get happy at times, and you can even have fun, but the feeling only lasts for seconds. Then you notice again how different everyone is, or more accurately, how different YOU are from them.
I was what many people would describe as a loner. I had a few select friends, maybe three or four that I would hang out with. I just didn't like people. They all seemed so annoying, so loud, so... happy. If I ever had a conversation with someone outside my small group of friends, it always began and ending awkwardly. I always felt inferior to them, like I just wasn't worthy of talking to them. I was absolutely terrified to talk to girls, somewhat do to my weight, but more due to the fact that I felt I didn't deserve to talk to them. Part of that may have been due to something that happened in eighth grade.
I remember it like it was yesterday. It was during math class, and a very pretty and very skinny blond girl sat beside me. At the time not only did I have my weight working against me, but it was before my mother allowed me to have contacts, so I had these huge, thick glasses. I also had a nice overbite too. If someone was making trying to create a typical nerdy kid for a movie or television show, I would be that kid. So needless to say it came as quite a shock to me that one day this girl happened to slide a piece of paper onto my desk. I was instantly excited, though the logical side of me concluded that she maybe needed help on a math problem (as an apology for being fat and nerdy I at least was given intelligence), or it was simply a note meant for someone else and I was the go-between. I gave her a quizzical look, and she mouthed the words, "Open it." I'm sure my palms were already nice and sweaty when I unfolded the paper. I read it several times to make sure it read what I thought it did. This girl who I knew was not only out of my league, but was playing a different sport all together, had asked me if I had a girlfriend. Not wanting to risk that she would come out of whatever trance she was in, I quickly that I did indeed was single. She wrote back that she was glad and wanted me to call her that night and talk, phone number included. To say that I was happy would be to say that the U.S. owes a little bit of pocket change. I don't remember much else about that school day, as I'm sure I floated through it. I do remember having a conversation with one of my friends, telling him what happened. He warned me that something wasn't adding up. Of course I knew that, but I didn't want to believe it, show I just brushed his warning aside.
I was VERY nervous when I was starting to make the call. I had informed my mother that I needed the phone for a while and I would be in my room. She naturally wanted to know why, and I told her that a friend was calling. She asked me was this friend a girl, and even though the last thing I wanted to do was talk to my my mother about my personal life, I was still so giddy that I just told the truth, and showed her the note. She was very excited for me, and even wanted to find a yearbook to see what the girl looked like. I sighed and made my way into my bedroom and closed the door. After a few times of starting to dial and hand up, I finally mustered up the courage to make the call. I'm sure the phone only rand maybe four or five times, but it seemed to gone on forever. Finally I heard her voice on the other line say hello. I wish I could remember all of our conversation, which lasted about an hour, but the one thing that stands out in my mind was a comment I made. I was starting to feel a little cocky, so I said, "You know, I think I've caught you looking at me a few times." Just remembering that now makes my skin crawl. She laughed and said, "Well, I just couldn't help it." I can't believe at the time I thought she was sincere.
The next day at school, I was feeling great. I remember one of the things we had talked about was holding hands during break and maybe sitting next to each other at lunch. When I mentioned earlier that I couldn't remember being happy very much, I would surmise that this was probably one of the last times I was truly happy. I didn't see her at all during the day, but I knew I would see her at lunch , so that was okay. As lunch time grew closer, I was getting more and more excited. I thought about all the things we could talk about, I thought about all the new popular friends I would have, and I though generally about how much better my life would get. I was standing in the lunch line, having seen that had already went through and sat down. I was pretty much minding my own business, when her best friend came up to me. She had a smirk on her face and leaned to tell me that the girl I thought was my girlfriend and who really liked me wanted to break up and that I had better not tell anyone about it.
At first I didn't understand. We had just talked on the phone last night. She had just told me how much she liked me. I had just told her how... how happy I was that she did. I then thought that maybe this was just a joke. I mean, her friend was smiling when she said it. I got my lunch and started walking toward where the "popular table" was, and I looked for her. What I found was a group of about 6 people turn, look at me, and start laughing. She was laughing too. People say all the time that during certain time of embarrassment that they wanted to crawl into a box and die. I didn't want to crawl into a box. I just wanted to die. I sat down at a table pretty far behind them, though I could still hear them laughing. I later found out that her friend had been on the line with her during all of our conversation, and that the whole thing about showing interest in me was a dare. I felt so ashamed and so worthless. Another thing that stands out to me is that after I finished my lunch, I went up and bought another one. Seeing me do that got me another round of laughter, but the more damaging thing that happened was getting the second lunch. While I'm sure that it had happened before, that was the first time that I can remember that I deliberately used food to try and comfort myself. It's a theme that unfortunately would remain constant in my life.
Until now.
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