Children can be so cruel to one another,
and I became a victim of that cruelty first hand.
I wondered why it was considered not ok to pick on someone
based on race, religion or gender but it was ok
to pick on somebody because of weight.
Years of pity soon turned into periods of
rage, hatred, and even violence.
Jokes that would take a lifetime to tell and
words that will forever taint my soul.
So, I left a few scars of my own.
The only difference is that mine would show.
Cowards are strong with tongues, not fists.
That’s when the picking stopped.
When the voices knew I would cross the line
and take things where they were too scared to go.
I found strength in their weakness and in their resentment.
I found joy once the picking stopped after years of trying to break
iron skin with hollow words responsible for the transformation.
Later, for my soul’s sake, I lowered my guard but never
gave in to the resentment that follows me to this day.
But now things have changed.
When I was younger,
if someone had told me that I would die
in 12 months if I didn’t lose the weight,
I would have said give me 11 months and
to think about it.
But now I am older and
I have friends who truly care about me
who want to see my outside match my inside.
Is that why I started? No.
My job requires lots of physical activity
that I can’t keep up with because of my
lack of physical ability.
Is this why I’ve started? No.
Physical attraction sure sounds like enough
of a motive but is that why…
I’ll save time by answering hell no!
Any woman that would just be with me
cause of the six pack can take six steps
I look at my two cousins
who I’ve seen grow into two beautiful girls, and
I want to be alive to see them grow,
graduate and get married. Then
I also look at my nephew who was just born.
I want to be a part of his life and see him grow,
maybe into a football star, or just see him
become a great man like his father or
maybe his loving uncle.
Is this why I’ve started? Mostly.
It’s the little part which I’m not sure about.
As I lose weight, I start to think back about those time
and all the anger comes back.
This is supposed to make me feel better about myself
and fill my soul with pride, but sometimes it feels like
submission to those words that have tainted me
like a scarlet letter.
I do notice the difference,
and I feel a new source of energy.
But feelings still remain.
I’ve always taken pride in myself
and my abilities because that’s the way
I was brought up.
But am I feeling pride in what I’m doing,
or am I submitting to those voices?
I just can’t figure out which one.
From my novel, Madness in a Recession. Available on Amazon Kindle or print.