Before I continue this blog, I guess it's important to mention that I am fully aware that my life as a teenager wasn't terrible. It wasn't like I was picked on so much that I didn't think I could go on. I wasn't ridiculed beyond the point of wanting to go to school. I wasn't a complete outcast. I'm sure there were things said behind my back but I can't tell you for sure. In any case, if you're looking for that story that tells you how awful things were and how I overcame such adversity to be where I am today, you're not going to get it from this blog. What you are going to get is a good look into how life was for me as the overweight, larger girl. The funny thing is, whether you're fat, skinny, short, tall, black, white or anywhere in between, you can probably relate to these memories. It's not just about being overweight. It's about not being what our society considers "perfect". You'll see how my size dictated who I was, or was trying to be. You'll see how my choices came directly from my self-esteem, or lack thereof. Finally, you'll see (eventually) how we change as individuals throughout the years. Thank God for that!
At one point in 9th grade I started "dating" a classmate. We can call him Kevin. I'm not sure now if I actually liked him, or I liked the fact that he paid attention to me. In any case, part of our dating agreement was that we keep it quiet. Yeah. Stupid huh? At the time though, Kevin was paying attention to me so I was more than willing to keep my mouth shut. Of course I told my closest friends and luckily I could trust them. I laugh now thinking about this pettiness, but at the time it was pretty damn important. I know now why he wanted to keep it a secret but then I was just happy to have him around.
If anyone knows what the art tables looked like back then at Small Town Central, you'll understand completely about the next part of this story. I was sitting at one of the tables and someone in class said "Hey, Maxine- look", so I went to their table and took a peek. There, in plain sight, plain as day, was "Max is fat" in black marker amongst the other, less obvious graffiti. Of course I wanted to cry but I wasn't going to do it. Not in front of these people. I'm not going to let these people see that these things hurt. I'm above that. I'm more than that. Instead, I set to figuring out who wrote it.
In Small Town, if you don't change your underwear for a day, EVERYONE knows it so I figured this would be a piece of cake. It was. Or at least I got an answer. I never did figure out if it was the correct one. I was told by someone, who was told by someone else, who of course, over heard it in the local restraint (ok, it wasn’t that bad, but you can’t blame me for a little dramatic effect!) It was THAT guy, you know, the one who I was secretly dating, Kevin. Yeah- that's what everyone told me so it MUST have been true. When confronted, he denied, denied, denied. I don't think I completely believed him but it really didn't matter. That was the end of that "relationship". Would you believe it though? I did not break up with him. He totally dumped me a few days later. Even after possibly being the one who degraded me on an art room table, I still felt it was more important to feel accepted and “date” someone than it was to protect my dignity. It's so strange to be a teenager. Funny thing was, I didn’t talk to him for the rest of our high school years until we were seniors. That's a hard thing to do in Small Town.
It was shortly after that when I got into my first fight, well sort of. Kevin seemed to move on fairly quickly, or so I had heard. I was in shop class one day (I hated that class so much!) and the one girl in my class Brianna (name change! Ha!) decided to fill me in on her "escapades" with Kevin in the grandstands by the baseball field. Oh yeah. I was pissed. It was typical girl drama now that I look back, but then....it was so much more than drama! So Brianna fills me in on this supposed make-out fest with Kevin and my blood got boiling. I finally blurted out something to effect of "he's only doing it cuz you're a whore". Now keep in mind, this was not at all like me. I normally talked behind someone's back, not to their face! The horror! Anyhow, she immediately pushed back her chair and stepped to me. I got up and stepped to her. I know my mind was racing...do I hit her? Shit, I'm going to be grounded at home if I do. In a split second I raised my fist, reeled back and.....wham, she kicked me in the crotch. In another split second I became painfully aware that if I hit her in the face I may actually do damage so I went straight for her....shoulder. Damn that hurt. She was bony as hell and looked anorexic! Mr. Cleaver (if you went to Small Town Central, you know who I mean!) sent us out of there and we both got put on the list. Some fight huh? I had to think about why the whole thing even bothered me. I know now what it was. It was that Kevin had broken up with me (who wasn't perfect but...) to go get all kissy faced with this girl, who was skinny (definitely not perfect either) but she was skinny! I surely wasn't.
The rest of high school was a blur in so many ways. I probably gained another 20 lbs this year. I couldn’t even tell you for sure what I weighed. I do know that when I graduated in 1995 I was somewhere around 160 lbs. That’s an estimate. So in grades 9 and 10 figure around 120-140 lbs. Over the course of a year, 20 pounds isn't seen right away. I would like to say (and many people did) that it was muscle building due to sports and that incredible walk from school to home. My mom always told me, "Muscle weighs more than fat". She was right...but I don't really think I had a lot of muscle going on. Whatever.
Anyhow, that year I decided out of the blue to play volleyball. I knew absolutely NOTHING about the sport but again, I wanted to be accepted and the girls in my class who were popular (and may I add very good at volleyball!) were on the team and I figured- what the hell- I can do this. I sucked, but it was worth it. I learned a lot about myself that season. Although I made very good friends with the bench, (I had secretly named it Billy) I truly enjoyed the sport. Volleyball made me feel better but you know what? It didn't make me more popular. It didn't help me get in with that crowd any better. On my walk home every day I would stop at the store downtown and buy a Crystal Pepsi (they didn't make those for very long). Do you know how much sugar I was putting in my body every day? I didn't then, but I do now! Ugh!
Once volleyball season was over, I went right into cheerleading. I was still a good base and I was still enjoying it so there was no reason to give it up. Besides, even with gaining weight, I was still looking okay. I was busy all of the time so I didn't have time to eat much. Apparently this wasn't good either but I didn't know that then. What was even better is that I was making friends outside of the normal group. All was good. I couldn't complain. Then....FISHY. Yes, you read that right. FISHY. Yeah, sounds weird but I remember it well.
I was getting my books for my next class when I opened my locker and there, on my little locker mirror, in blue permanent marker, was the word FISHY. I was shocked. I had no idea what this meant. I had no idea why it was there. I was completely confused. If we had texting, a WTF would be called for right then! I honestly had to ask a few people what the heck it meant. Finally, someone enlightened me. If you were fishy, you smelled, and it wasn't under the arms if you know what I mean. WHAT??? Are you kidding me? Hell no. Not me! Why would someone do that?
I figured it out later. One of my friends, who was apparently mad at me for something else had conspired with another girl to do it. She later told me they just couldn't think of anything else to write. (Like Fat Ass didn't cross their minds??? Come on!) So, no, I didn't smell like fish but I realized then that it didn't matter if I was fat or not...people were going to find something to hurt your feelings with, no matter what. In fact, it became painfully obvious that it didn't matter if I was chunky or not. People were going to pick on me for something no matter what I did or didn't do. Go figure.
Remember back in 8th grade when I had that first boyfriend? Well there was a part I left out, intentionally. It was through that boyfriend back then that I met someone (his best friend at the time) that I ended up becoming very close to through my high school years. (Let's call him Jake) Although it wasn't obvious in school (no one asked to keep this quiet, it just worked out that way) we hung out on and off outside of school. It went in streaks. We would watch Bills games together (this was when they were actually good!) and then not talk for a while. We would just chill on a nice night but then act like we hardly knew each other in school. It just was that way. Strange. So why do I tell you this? He ended up being a big part of my life later on. Beyond that though, and I never thought about this then, he was the first person I dated that did not judge me for my weight, size, looks or anything for that matter. He didn't try to take advantage of the fact that I had low self esteem and exploit it in some stupid way.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Chapter 4- High School Part 1
When people move and switch schools, they often go into a whole new situation without knowing a soul. I was lucky. I knew some people when I moved. I had a year to meet and greet and get to know people before I even started school there. The first day I walked into Small Town Central, it didn't make a difference- I was still the new girl. Luckily the 9th grade class had another new person at the same time so a lot of the attention was off me. I must not have liked it that way because as soon as I could, I started finding ways to get attention, but that's for another blog...one that I won't make public for sure!
In case you've never moved from Suburbia to Small Town, let me fill you in on some differences. In Suburbia, you are lost among the many others. Yes, I got picked on, as you have already read but on a large scale, (no pun intended), there were so many other people to choose from. I got lost in the mix. Basically what made you "popular" one day would fizzle out the next because the focus would change to someone else. In Small Town what you did one day lasted in peoples minds for a lifetime. There's no one else to choose from. As they say, "Pickins are slim". In Suburbia I had an 8th grade class of about 240; in 9th grade at Small Town Central my class size was about 40. Yep, big difference. In Suburbia, Middle and High School put together boasted about 1500 kids (that didn't include the 2 elementary schools each with about 750 students each). In Small Town- K-12 was in one building and totaled about 500 kids.
In Small Town, everyone knows your name, kinda like Cheers. In Suburbia, only your clique or friend group knows you and truthfully, they're the only ones that give a damn. In Small Town you rarely have to try out for teams whereas in Suburbia, trying out for sports is a regular ritual known only to the jocks because they intimidate others into not bothering. In Small Town, at least in 1991-1995 you were seperated by your goal for a diploma. Seriously, there were the Regents kids and the Non-Regents kids. Sad but true. In Suburbia you were split by your social group only. Jocks, Preps, Losers, Geeks, Loners, Trouble-Makers...just to name a few. I went from a Loser/Geek in Suburbia to a Regents kid in Small Town. I was pretty sure this was an upgrade at the time. Still not sure what it was to be honest.
Now don't get me wrong. I was a good student. I tried hard and did okay. I certainly wasn't the smartest in my class but I made it through. Socially, I tried to make friends and get along with people, no matter who they were or what they looked like. Honestly though, as a teenager, that is tough. I did make some pretty good friends that year. That was the year I met my future husband, I just didn't know it and sure wouldn't have believed it then had you told me. Above all, I did what normal teens do to drive their parents crazy. I don't think I went all rebel or anything. My parents were pretty trusting of me until I screwed it up, which I did without much effort. I just found little ways to get attention-unfortunately the wrong kind- but I didn't know that then. I think that subconsciously I was looking for other ways to get people to pay attention to me for something besides my size. It worked, well...sort of.
Until now, I've mentioned next to nothing about my family. Well here's where my sister played a role in my adolescent years. For those of you who don't know, she's 4years younger and for those of you who don't know her, we'll call her Marsha. What sucks more than being overweight during the teen years? Being overweight and having a gorgeous younger sister! Yep, it's true. Marsha was always noticed for her good looks, her body and sometimes her personality. People looked at her as a snob, stuck up and/or a rich bitch but the truth was, she wasn't. She was just clear on who she was and what she would and would not tolerate. I wish I had half of that characteristic then. Was I jealous of Marsha...yep. I can't deny it. Who wouldn't be?
I think the most memorable (and notably disgusting) point in my freshman year was when the guys in my class (all 14-15 years old) noticed Marsha, who was in all of 5th grade at the time. They had the balls to tell me "When she's older, we're gonna F*** her." Yeah. I wish I could tell you that it didn't bother me, but it did. What's most shameful though is that it didn't bother me in the "Don't touch my little sister or I'll kick your ass" way. I was actually jealous that they would notice her in that way. Not that I wanted to sleep with any one of them in particular but the idea that they would notice her over me really hurt. For the record, when she was older and I told her that, she laughed. Her comment was something to the effect of "Not on your life", but I'm positive there were other words in there.
So I bet you're wondering what else I did for attention. Well, sorry, not going to tell you all of the juicy details. What I can tell you is that I continued to look for ways to be noticed, sometimes by an individual, sometimes by a group. I even joined ski club, just so I could hang out with a guy that I had a crush on. Kyle (yes name change) and I had spent some time hanging out as friends but that was it. I was into him and as usual, he wasn't into me but I wasn't going to give up! No siree! I begged my parents to buy a ski package and let me join up. Little did they know it was all so I could be around Kyle. So, I started skiing. If you've never been, it's a hell of a workout. I spent every Sunday night that winter skiing my brains out (on the bunny slopes) and every Monday walking like I had a corn cob stuck up my ass because every muscle was sore beyond belief. Funny thing was...Kyle was a far more advanced skiier than I was and I never once saw him the whole night I skiied. Plan backfired. I still skiied because I was too afraid to tell my parents that I didn't want to. As it turned out though, I ended up sticking with it all the way through high school. (I'm probably the current queen of the bunny slopes though!)
It was in 9th grade that I discovered cheerleading. Yeah, I bet you're like...oh shit- big girl jumping around...watch out! Don't worry, so was I. The skinny girls cheered and inside my head, I wanted to be a skinny girl. Who am I kidding? I wanted to be a skinny girl on the outside too. In any case, one of the girls in my class talked me into it and I figured why not. Believe it or not, this could have been a turning point for me, IF I had used it properly. I ended up on the JV squad which looking back now, was a joke. At the time though, we were proud of everything we did, and we had reason to be. We worked our asses off (some of us literally!) to make something decent out of our squad. I wish I could tell you I was a flyer-the girl on the top of the pyramid-but I wasn't. (Thank goodness-I'm afraid of heights!) I made a hell of a base though. I was actually looking fairly fit at that point. I was still bigger but I was getting in shape. Whoever said Cheerleading wasn't a sport is full of it! I gained a lot of muscle during cheer season. Granted it was from walking up and down our incredibly long driveway to get to practice, but muscle is muscle and muscle must grow! I wonder if I negated that muscle when I got home and ate potato chips and had a soda???
Somewhere near the spring of freshman year I got caught. My mom went through my jewelery box and found them. The little oval shaped pills that I thought would help me look like those skinny girls. Diet pills. Our world today is full of them. It's a multi-billion dollar industry. Back in 1992, they were just becoming more popular. I couldn't even tell you how I got my hands on them. Good ol' Dexatrim. "Suppresses your appetite so you don't eat as much". Yeah, right. Boy did I get in trouble for that. I honestly didn't understand why. I mean, it was my life. I could do what I wanted to, right? My mom didn't know what she was talking about. If I wanted to take them, I could because it was MY body. She was just being over protective. Yeah. I thought all of those things then but I was a teenager. I owned the world! The truth was, I hadn't taken even ONE of those little pills. They were sitting in my jewelery box because I thought I needed them but was too afraid to put them in my mouth. Maybe I thought they would be addictive. Maybe I was afraid of what side effects they would have. I don't know. I honestly don't. What I do know it that wasn't the only time in my life I resorted to pills to try to solve my weight problem.
In case you've never moved from Suburbia to Small Town, let me fill you in on some differences. In Suburbia, you are lost among the many others. Yes, I got picked on, as you have already read but on a large scale, (no pun intended), there were so many other people to choose from. I got lost in the mix. Basically what made you "popular" one day would fizzle out the next because the focus would change to someone else. In Small Town what you did one day lasted in peoples minds for a lifetime. There's no one else to choose from. As they say, "Pickins are slim". In Suburbia I had an 8th grade class of about 240; in 9th grade at Small Town Central my class size was about 40. Yep, big difference. In Suburbia, Middle and High School put together boasted about 1500 kids (that didn't include the 2 elementary schools each with about 750 students each). In Small Town- K-12 was in one building and totaled about 500 kids.
In Small Town, everyone knows your name, kinda like Cheers. In Suburbia, only your clique or friend group knows you and truthfully, they're the only ones that give a damn. In Small Town you rarely have to try out for teams whereas in Suburbia, trying out for sports is a regular ritual known only to the jocks because they intimidate others into not bothering. In Small Town, at least in 1991-1995 you were seperated by your goal for a diploma. Seriously, there were the Regents kids and the Non-Regents kids. Sad but true. In Suburbia you were split by your social group only. Jocks, Preps, Losers, Geeks, Loners, Trouble-Makers...just to name a few. I went from a Loser/Geek in Suburbia to a Regents kid in Small Town. I was pretty sure this was an upgrade at the time. Still not sure what it was to be honest.
Now don't get me wrong. I was a good student. I tried hard and did okay. I certainly wasn't the smartest in my class but I made it through. Socially, I tried to make friends and get along with people, no matter who they were or what they looked like. Honestly though, as a teenager, that is tough. I did make some pretty good friends that year. That was the year I met my future husband, I just didn't know it and sure wouldn't have believed it then had you told me. Above all, I did what normal teens do to drive their parents crazy. I don't think I went all rebel or anything. My parents were pretty trusting of me until I screwed it up, which I did without much effort. I just found little ways to get attention-unfortunately the wrong kind- but I didn't know that then. I think that subconsciously I was looking for other ways to get people to pay attention to me for something besides my size. It worked, well...sort of.
Until now, I've mentioned next to nothing about my family. Well here's where my sister played a role in my adolescent years. For those of you who don't know, she's 4years younger and for those of you who don't know her, we'll call her Marsha. What sucks more than being overweight during the teen years? Being overweight and having a gorgeous younger sister! Yep, it's true. Marsha was always noticed for her good looks, her body and sometimes her personality. People looked at her as a snob, stuck up and/or a rich bitch but the truth was, she wasn't. She was just clear on who she was and what she would and would not tolerate. I wish I had half of that characteristic then. Was I jealous of Marsha...yep. I can't deny it. Who wouldn't be?
I think the most memorable (and notably disgusting) point in my freshman year was when the guys in my class (all 14-15 years old) noticed Marsha, who was in all of 5th grade at the time. They had the balls to tell me "When she's older, we're gonna F*** her." Yeah. I wish I could tell you that it didn't bother me, but it did. What's most shameful though is that it didn't bother me in the "Don't touch my little sister or I'll kick your ass" way. I was actually jealous that they would notice her in that way. Not that I wanted to sleep with any one of them in particular but the idea that they would notice her over me really hurt. For the record, when she was older and I told her that, she laughed. Her comment was something to the effect of "Not on your life", but I'm positive there were other words in there.
So I bet you're wondering what else I did for attention. Well, sorry, not going to tell you all of the juicy details. What I can tell you is that I continued to look for ways to be noticed, sometimes by an individual, sometimes by a group. I even joined ski club, just so I could hang out with a guy that I had a crush on. Kyle (yes name change) and I had spent some time hanging out as friends but that was it. I was into him and as usual, he wasn't into me but I wasn't going to give up! No siree! I begged my parents to buy a ski package and let me join up. Little did they know it was all so I could be around Kyle. So, I started skiing. If you've never been, it's a hell of a workout. I spent every Sunday night that winter skiing my brains out (on the bunny slopes) and every Monday walking like I had a corn cob stuck up my ass because every muscle was sore beyond belief. Funny thing was...Kyle was a far more advanced skiier than I was and I never once saw him the whole night I skiied. Plan backfired. I still skiied because I was too afraid to tell my parents that I didn't want to. As it turned out though, I ended up sticking with it all the way through high school. (I'm probably the current queen of the bunny slopes though!)
It was in 9th grade that I discovered cheerleading. Yeah, I bet you're like...oh shit- big girl jumping around...watch out! Don't worry, so was I. The skinny girls cheered and inside my head, I wanted to be a skinny girl. Who am I kidding? I wanted to be a skinny girl on the outside too. In any case, one of the girls in my class talked me into it and I figured why not. Believe it or not, this could have been a turning point for me, IF I had used it properly. I ended up on the JV squad which looking back now, was a joke. At the time though, we were proud of everything we did, and we had reason to be. We worked our asses off (some of us literally!) to make something decent out of our squad. I wish I could tell you I was a flyer-the girl on the top of the pyramid-but I wasn't. (Thank goodness-I'm afraid of heights!) I made a hell of a base though. I was actually looking fairly fit at that point. I was still bigger but I was getting in shape. Whoever said Cheerleading wasn't a sport is full of it! I gained a lot of muscle during cheer season. Granted it was from walking up and down our incredibly long driveway to get to practice, but muscle is muscle and muscle must grow! I wonder if I negated that muscle when I got home and ate potato chips and had a soda???
Somewhere near the spring of freshman year I got caught. My mom went through my jewelery box and found them. The little oval shaped pills that I thought would help me look like those skinny girls. Diet pills. Our world today is full of them. It's a multi-billion dollar industry. Back in 1992, they were just becoming more popular. I couldn't even tell you how I got my hands on them. Good ol' Dexatrim. "Suppresses your appetite so you don't eat as much". Yeah, right. Boy did I get in trouble for that. I honestly didn't understand why. I mean, it was my life. I could do what I wanted to, right? My mom didn't know what she was talking about. If I wanted to take them, I could because it was MY body. She was just being over protective. Yeah. I thought all of those things then but I was a teenager. I owned the world! The truth was, I hadn't taken even ONE of those little pills. They were sitting in my jewelery box because I thought I needed them but was too afraid to put them in my mouth. Maybe I thought they would be addictive. Maybe I was afraid of what side effects they would have. I don't know. I honestly don't. What I do know it that wasn't the only time in my life I resorted to pills to try to solve my weight problem.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Chapter 3- Middle School
Before I get into the whole Middle School experience, I forgot to mention one very important thing that happened in 4th grade. As I mentioned, I was heavy but the one thing I was good at and did despite my weight was swim. My parents had the bright idea of getting me on a swim team (I secretly thank them over and over now!) where we went to meets and competed. I wish I could say I did an awesome job and came in 1st all of the time but that's not true. I won a black ribbon (12th place) for the 50 yard backstroke. That was it. The real story is in the fundraising event we did. The club held a Swim-a-thon and swimmers took pledges from people based on how many lengths of the pool a swimmer would swim. My parents and grandparents all donated like $7.00 a length or something like that. I remember it being a good amount. Other kids were getting .25 to $1.00 a length. The coach thought it was odd but the truth was, my family (and me too!) figured I could only swim a few lengths and I would be done. I could swim, but my size and weight kept me from being able to do a lot. They knew it and I knew it. I think I screwed everyone up that day. I swam a total of 84 lengths of the pool non-stop. I kicked ass. The club didn't make my sponsors pay their full amounts because if you do the math...that was a lot of money. I sure ended up raising the most money though! It's that experience that drives me today. But we'll get more into today in later chapters.
I think anyone can agree, middle school is a bitch. Pubescent kids running around thinking they're all top dog. Many kids are starting to find out who they are, and many are still searching to be someone. I, on the other hand, wasn't sure of anything. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. I knew who my friends were and I had some good ones. I was lucky. I surely wasn't popular but at least I had others around me to help make the "loser" feeling a little less obvious.
Sixth grade: This was the first year that we started switching classes. I can remember sitting next to this dorky kid in homeroom and wondering if I could even talk to him. (Just a note, he's not dorky anymore AND for the record, I was even dorkier!). I was shy. I don't think I had come out of my shell yet. I certainly had a large enough shell to break through too! It was like coming out of a friggen ostrich shell, 6 feet thick! Even in 6th grade, I was still larger than the other kids, although I don't know if I would have called myself obese. Hefty...yes. (See...told you there were other words for it.) I'll have to find the picture I have of the first day of homeroom. My hairdo was hilarious! I thought it was cool at the time though.
Probably the worst part of 6th grade (and most of the other grades) was the dreaded gym class. We had to start changing into gym clothes. I never understood this ritual until I, myself, started teaching. Kids stink! Now it's very clear why we had to wear (stinky) gym clothes instead of our school clothes. In any case, the worst part of any gym day: changing in the locker room. You probably guessed it. I avoided it like the plague. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I "forgot" my clothes. (Secretly there were clothes in my locker-like hell I was going to change into them in front of all of the other girls who were like skinny as hell, didn't have to wear bras and were basically feeling good about themselves, or so I thought). Ironically, I was avoiding doing physical activity because I was ashamed of my body BUT the kicker was that doing physical activity may have actually helped my body! I didn't see it that way then but now it's all so clear. Isn't it funny what 20 years can do to you?
Back then (1987-1988) the punishment for not bringing your gym clothes was to write "I will not forget my gym clothes" over and over and over and over....until the end of the class. I normally got about 20 done and then goofed off with the other "forgetters" and "sicklies". Needless to say, I didn't have good gym grades. Even worse, I was just gaining weight. Did I care? Nope. Didn't even realize it. One day, I decided to get smart and instead of writing the infamous sentence, I drew a picture and put under it "A picture is worth a thousand words". That didn't go over well.
Grade 7: I had low self esteem and didn't even know it. I was pretty shy to start and now I know it had to do with the way I looked. Now, before I go on, I want to digress a bit. If you were the person in my shoes (less than good looking, dorky or something of the sort) you went through what I did- you may have been ridiculed, picked on, bullied etc. You remember things a certain way and you know how much that behavior hurt you. If you were on the other side (you did the picking, ridiculing, bullying) you tend to forget the things you said to those like me. I don't know why but we remember and you don't. I'm hear to tell you first hand that it sucks being on my side. It was horrible to hear people call you fat or geek or anything else for that matter. You have no idea what that feels like until it's done to you. I'm not going to claim that it was so bad that I had any drastic thoughts like suicide or anything but trust me when I say that your words hurt more than getting hit in the face with basketball.
It was in 7th grade that I had my first true crush. Yep, it's the one you remember forever. I don't know why now...but for some reason, I really had it bad for this guy. He was in our friend group but didn't even notice me, other than as a friend. Why would you? I was dorky and pushing overweight. I still stalked him quietly as most 7th grade girls do. I was far too shy to say anything to him about liking him and sometimes I couldn't even bring myself to talk to him. I never said anything to him and I was careful with friends and what they said. I'm sure I did the whole "Ask Sam who he likes" or "Ask Sam if he's going out with anyone". I was just too shy and had such low self esteem that I wasn't going to say anything to him directly, no matter what.
One day though, out of the blue, that ostrich shell cracked. There was a big hole in it all of a sudden. I just decided to ask him out. (Yeah, I'm well aware that dating in 7th grade is a farce...but I didn't know that then!). I did it. I asked him out. Well, after a day worth of waiting, less than patiently for the answer I was really hoping I would get...I got shot down. I can remember being devastated. I came out of this really thick shell and attempted to express myself and BANG! Nothing. It took about 5 days to get over the initial shock and I moved on to liking someone else. Isn't that how it always goes? All was good until a friend told me why he said "no". Apparently I was too fat (at least he had the balls to use the word that I never could!) and he didn't like my hair. Devastation....again.
Eighth grade: I hesitate to go into 8th grade honestly as so many of my actions were to gain attention and definitely less than appropriate to share with everyone. I'm pretty sure I could still get grounded for some of it, even this many years later. Suffice it to say...it was a different year. Other than having a "real" boyfriend, my first "real" kiss, preparing to move to small town, New York and a whole slew of other less than proud moments, the most memorable thing of 8th grade was my friend Missy (name change!). We rode the bus together and we had been friends since about 2nd grade, give or take. She was heavy too but despite her weight, she had an absolutely beautiful face, skin that tanned like no other and the main thing that I didn't have- she had a smaller bone structure so even though she was heavy, she had the smallest ankles and wrists. (Can we say JEAL---OUS?) One day Missy and I were on the bus and she was comparing her wrists to mine. Why...who knows. Anyhow, she made it painfully clear that you could see the bump on her wrist (the one on the outside of your arm) and mine you couldn't see. I was quickly dubbed as having no wrists. Yep, that sure pissed me off and above all else, hurt my feelings. I've never forgot it and I've often looked at my wrists thinking about the conversation that day. I know it seems stupid but this fat girl remembers those things.
Over time I just accepted the fact that my wrists weren't obvious and even hidden behind thick skin but it didn't push me to do anything about it. At least not then. Meanwhile, I was still gaining weight as I had been throughout middle school. I would venture to say about 20 lbs. a year. My mom even tried to help me do something about it by signing me up for Nutrisystem. Back then it was even more expensive than it is now. I applaud her efforts (now that I'm looking back) but I didn't truly appreciate it at the time. In a total of $600 spent on food, I lost 5 lbs. She thought I was cheating the diet when I would go to Fantasy Island with my friends. Truth was...I didn't. I always drank water (or their special orange drink) from this big bottle I had. I spent my money on games but never on food. I just didn't lose any weight. Needless to say, mom cut that out after realizing I was getting nowhere. Can't blame her.
It may have been sometime after that when I started hoarding food, or at least that's what she called it. I thought I was just saving it for later. Know how you get all of that awesome candy at Halloween or Easter? Well I would sneak some and put it in my desk drawer in my room. Unfortunately I had a mother that was smarter than me (although I would NEVER admit that then!) and she would find it. I would get yelled at, and sorry mom, it's true, but called a few not so nice names. They stung but not enough for me to do anything about it. I think I just accepted me for who I was at this point. I tried to put the facade on that I didn't care what anyone else thought. Truth was, I cared, and I cared deeply. Those things hurt and they obviously stuck with me, if I'm able to tell about them today. I cried everytime the words "fat" or "lazy" were used to describe me. Truth hurts.
Eighth grade also introduced me into the world of dating. Now those of you who already know the WHO of my first dating experience...please don't hold that against me. Those of you who don't...well, again, name changes are important for a reason. Rob was from small town, NY where we were moving to at the end of my 8th grade year. I had met him on our weekend visits down there. He was a bit older, which of course was a status thing for me. I was barely a teenager and I had a 16 year old boyfriend. Awesome. I "dated" him for close to a year. It wasn't until he was sure we were moving down there that he finally broke up with me. I took it hard, as any teenie bopper would. I tried over and over to change his mind and it didn't work. I found out later...he dumped me because he didn't want people to see us together now that we would be in the same school. Sad, but very true. In the meantime though, while we were dating, I made choices that, looking back, defined who I was going to be for my high school years. Without going into details, I gained a fake self confidence that made me seem like I felt good about myself but no one knew what I truly felt on the inside. I didn't tell anyone because that wasn't cool. I hid it as well as I could. I couldn't hide that I was chunky. People could see that for sure. I guess I felt that if I acted a certain way, they wouldn't notice my outside appearance. Wishful thinking...
I think anyone can agree, middle school is a bitch. Pubescent kids running around thinking they're all top dog. Many kids are starting to find out who they are, and many are still searching to be someone. I, on the other hand, wasn't sure of anything. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. I knew who my friends were and I had some good ones. I was lucky. I surely wasn't popular but at least I had others around me to help make the "loser" feeling a little less obvious.
Sixth grade: This was the first year that we started switching classes. I can remember sitting next to this dorky kid in homeroom and wondering if I could even talk to him. (Just a note, he's not dorky anymore AND for the record, I was even dorkier!). I was shy. I don't think I had come out of my shell yet. I certainly had a large enough shell to break through too! It was like coming out of a friggen ostrich shell, 6 feet thick! Even in 6th grade, I was still larger than the other kids, although I don't know if I would have called myself obese. Hefty...yes. (See...told you there were other words for it.) I'll have to find the picture I have of the first day of homeroom. My hairdo was hilarious! I thought it was cool at the time though.
Probably the worst part of 6th grade (and most of the other grades) was the dreaded gym class. We had to start changing into gym clothes. I never understood this ritual until I, myself, started teaching. Kids stink! Now it's very clear why we had to wear (stinky) gym clothes instead of our school clothes. In any case, the worst part of any gym day: changing in the locker room. You probably guessed it. I avoided it like the plague. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I "forgot" my clothes. (Secretly there were clothes in my locker-like hell I was going to change into them in front of all of the other girls who were like skinny as hell, didn't have to wear bras and were basically feeling good about themselves, or so I thought). Ironically, I was avoiding doing physical activity because I was ashamed of my body BUT the kicker was that doing physical activity may have actually helped my body! I didn't see it that way then but now it's all so clear. Isn't it funny what 20 years can do to you?
Back then (1987-1988) the punishment for not bringing your gym clothes was to write "I will not forget my gym clothes" over and over and over and over....until the end of the class. I normally got about 20 done and then goofed off with the other "forgetters" and "sicklies". Needless to say, I didn't have good gym grades. Even worse, I was just gaining weight. Did I care? Nope. Didn't even realize it. One day, I decided to get smart and instead of writing the infamous sentence, I drew a picture and put under it "A picture is worth a thousand words". That didn't go over well.
Grade 7: I had low self esteem and didn't even know it. I was pretty shy to start and now I know it had to do with the way I looked. Now, before I go on, I want to digress a bit. If you were the person in my shoes (less than good looking, dorky or something of the sort) you went through what I did- you may have been ridiculed, picked on, bullied etc. You remember things a certain way and you know how much that behavior hurt you. If you were on the other side (you did the picking, ridiculing, bullying) you tend to forget the things you said to those like me. I don't know why but we remember and you don't. I'm hear to tell you first hand that it sucks being on my side. It was horrible to hear people call you fat or geek or anything else for that matter. You have no idea what that feels like until it's done to you. I'm not going to claim that it was so bad that I had any drastic thoughts like suicide or anything but trust me when I say that your words hurt more than getting hit in the face with basketball.
It was in 7th grade that I had my first true crush. Yep, it's the one you remember forever. I don't know why now...but for some reason, I really had it bad for this guy. He was in our friend group but didn't even notice me, other than as a friend. Why would you? I was dorky and pushing overweight. I still stalked him quietly as most 7th grade girls do. I was far too shy to say anything to him about liking him and sometimes I couldn't even bring myself to talk to him. I never said anything to him and I was careful with friends and what they said. I'm sure I did the whole "Ask Sam who he likes" or "Ask Sam if he's going out with anyone". I was just too shy and had such low self esteem that I wasn't going to say anything to him directly, no matter what.
One day though, out of the blue, that ostrich shell cracked. There was a big hole in it all of a sudden. I just decided to ask him out. (Yeah, I'm well aware that dating in 7th grade is a farce...but I didn't know that then!). I did it. I asked him out. Well, after a day worth of waiting, less than patiently for the answer I was really hoping I would get...I got shot down. I can remember being devastated. I came out of this really thick shell and attempted to express myself and BANG! Nothing. It took about 5 days to get over the initial shock and I moved on to liking someone else. Isn't that how it always goes? All was good until a friend told me why he said "no". Apparently I was too fat (at least he had the balls to use the word that I never could!) and he didn't like my hair. Devastation....again.
Eighth grade: I hesitate to go into 8th grade honestly as so many of my actions were to gain attention and definitely less than appropriate to share with everyone. I'm pretty sure I could still get grounded for some of it, even this many years later. Suffice it to say...it was a different year. Other than having a "real" boyfriend, my first "real" kiss, preparing to move to small town, New York and a whole slew of other less than proud moments, the most memorable thing of 8th grade was my friend Missy (name change!). We rode the bus together and we had been friends since about 2nd grade, give or take. She was heavy too but despite her weight, she had an absolutely beautiful face, skin that tanned like no other and the main thing that I didn't have- she had a smaller bone structure so even though she was heavy, she had the smallest ankles and wrists. (Can we say JEAL---OUS?) One day Missy and I were on the bus and she was comparing her wrists to mine. Why...who knows. Anyhow, she made it painfully clear that you could see the bump on her wrist (the one on the outside of your arm) and mine you couldn't see. I was quickly dubbed as having no wrists. Yep, that sure pissed me off and above all else, hurt my feelings. I've never forgot it and I've often looked at my wrists thinking about the conversation that day. I know it seems stupid but this fat girl remembers those things.
Over time I just accepted the fact that my wrists weren't obvious and even hidden behind thick skin but it didn't push me to do anything about it. At least not then. Meanwhile, I was still gaining weight as I had been throughout middle school. I would venture to say about 20 lbs. a year. My mom even tried to help me do something about it by signing me up for Nutrisystem. Back then it was even more expensive than it is now. I applaud her efforts (now that I'm looking back) but I didn't truly appreciate it at the time. In a total of $600 spent on food, I lost 5 lbs. She thought I was cheating the diet when I would go to Fantasy Island with my friends. Truth was...I didn't. I always drank water (or their special orange drink) from this big bottle I had. I spent my money on games but never on food. I just didn't lose any weight. Needless to say, mom cut that out after realizing I was getting nowhere. Can't blame her.
It may have been sometime after that when I started hoarding food, or at least that's what she called it. I thought I was just saving it for later. Know how you get all of that awesome candy at Halloween or Easter? Well I would sneak some and put it in my desk drawer in my room. Unfortunately I had a mother that was smarter than me (although I would NEVER admit that then!) and she would find it. I would get yelled at, and sorry mom, it's true, but called a few not so nice names. They stung but not enough for me to do anything about it. I think I just accepted me for who I was at this point. I tried to put the facade on that I didn't care what anyone else thought. Truth was, I cared, and I cared deeply. Those things hurt and they obviously stuck with me, if I'm able to tell about them today. I cried everytime the words "fat" or "lazy" were used to describe me. Truth hurts.
Eighth grade also introduced me into the world of dating. Now those of you who already know the WHO of my first dating experience...please don't hold that against me. Those of you who don't...well, again, name changes are important for a reason. Rob was from small town, NY where we were moving to at the end of my 8th grade year. I had met him on our weekend visits down there. He was a bit older, which of course was a status thing for me. I was barely a teenager and I had a 16 year old boyfriend. Awesome. I "dated" him for close to a year. It wasn't until he was sure we were moving down there that he finally broke up with me. I took it hard, as any teenie bopper would. I tried over and over to change his mind and it didn't work. I found out later...he dumped me because he didn't want people to see us together now that we would be in the same school. Sad, but very true. In the meantime though, while we were dating, I made choices that, looking back, defined who I was going to be for my high school years. Without going into details, I gained a fake self confidence that made me seem like I felt good about myself but no one knew what I truly felt on the inside. I didn't tell anyone because that wasn't cool. I hid it as well as I could. I couldn't hide that I was chunky. People could see that for sure. I guess I felt that if I acted a certain way, they wouldn't notice my outside appearance. Wishful thinking...
Friday, April 23, 2010
Chapter 2- Fourth Grade
Significant memories plague us. We can't avoid it. Our minds work in mysterious ways. We remember what happened 20 years ago but can't seem to remember what we ate for dinner yesterday. Much of it is probably due to what we find important and what we feel is forgettable. Unfortunately, there are times in our lives that we wish we could forget. There are times that we try over and over to rationalize why a particular incident is important to our brain but not truly important. Then there are the times that even though we remember something not so nice, it's a good feeling knowing that we have that memory. In my case, I'm glad I remembered 4th grade. It sucked, but now that I look back, I realize it was the beginning of my battle.
There was a time when I didn't live in small town, New York. I lived in Suburbia, New York. Beautiful houses surrounded by more beautiful houses. Many people floating in money, others just walking on it. Don't get me wrong, Suburbia was a great place to live and I still have many fond memories of it. As a matter of fact, many of my earliest memories are from Suburbia. Some are good. Some are bad. I'm betting that I've also blocked out several of them.
I realized I was a bit different in fourth grade. I remember walking into the Art room with the rest of my class. It was no different than any other day. I was taller than most of my classmates, both boys and girls (wish I had kept that height!), thus giving me my first excuse for my weight- I was tall! I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, puberty hit everyone and I suddenly became one of the more average height girls very quickly.
Anyhow, that day one of the girls in my class walked by me and started snickering. Keep in mind that kids are cruel. No matter where you go, kids have an inate ability to find your weakness and feed off it. For some reason, girls are especially good at this. Anyhow, I couldn't figure out what this girl was laughing about so I just laughed with her. You know the old addage, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em". My response sent her into more giggles, eventually leading to other students following her lead. I don't even know if they knew what they were laughing about at first.
I started checking my back to see if a "kick me" sign had been stuck on me. Nope. That was clear. I felt my mouth to see if lunch was leftover somewhere or hey, maybe I had a stray booger. Nope. Nope. Both clear. What in the hell was so funny? I remember thinking "whatever" and found my seat. It wasn't until a little while later that I found out what people were giggling about. About halfway through the class, as we were working on our clay dishes I heard one of the girls at another table say "bra". I didn't think anything of it immediately. I knew what a bra was. It was a piece of clothing that girls wore when they became a woman. When their boobs got big, it was a way to make them look smaller. (Hey- I was in fourth grade- before you laugh at my ignorance, remember that!) I don't know what possessed me to look, but I looked down at my own chest at that moment. Oh crap. There, under my light blue, slightly worn sweater was two "nubs" sticking out. Ok, so you're like TMI (too much info) now, but wait. There's a reason for this.
I had developed breasts in 4th grade. Something that others wanted so badly (for unknown reasons!) I had started already and truthfully I didn't want anything to do with them. But why? Why would I have breasts before the other girls? It didn't make sense to me at the time. I, of course went home and my mom made sure I got a training bra (although I swear I skipped that whole phase and went right into the alphabet system for bra sizing!). I had breasts because I was fat. Yes, I'm sure I was beginning puberty too but all of the other changes hadn't started yet. This was it. Maybe it wouldn't have been a lasting memory if others hadn't laughed at it. I don't know. Either way, that's not the end, it was only the beginning.
I made the mistake of trusting my friends and told them about the training bra. Well you know how secrets are kept amongst young girls- they aren't. I took another round of snickering for a while. It did stop eventually, but looking back I realize that the years of ridicule had begun. Little did I know that this fat girl was going to be picked on in so many ways throughout life. It all started that one day in Art class, in fourth grade.
There was a time when I didn't live in small town, New York. I lived in Suburbia, New York. Beautiful houses surrounded by more beautiful houses. Many people floating in money, others just walking on it. Don't get me wrong, Suburbia was a great place to live and I still have many fond memories of it. As a matter of fact, many of my earliest memories are from Suburbia. Some are good. Some are bad. I'm betting that I've also blocked out several of them.
I realized I was a bit different in fourth grade. I remember walking into the Art room with the rest of my class. It was no different than any other day. I was taller than most of my classmates, both boys and girls (wish I had kept that height!), thus giving me my first excuse for my weight- I was tall! I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, puberty hit everyone and I suddenly became one of the more average height girls very quickly.
Anyhow, that day one of the girls in my class walked by me and started snickering. Keep in mind that kids are cruel. No matter where you go, kids have an inate ability to find your weakness and feed off it. For some reason, girls are especially good at this. Anyhow, I couldn't figure out what this girl was laughing about so I just laughed with her. You know the old addage, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em". My response sent her into more giggles, eventually leading to other students following her lead. I don't even know if they knew what they were laughing about at first.
I started checking my back to see if a "kick me" sign had been stuck on me. Nope. That was clear. I felt my mouth to see if lunch was leftover somewhere or hey, maybe I had a stray booger. Nope. Nope. Both clear. What in the hell was so funny? I remember thinking "whatever" and found my seat. It wasn't until a little while later that I found out what people were giggling about. About halfway through the class, as we were working on our clay dishes I heard one of the girls at another table say "bra". I didn't think anything of it immediately. I knew what a bra was. It was a piece of clothing that girls wore when they became a woman. When their boobs got big, it was a way to make them look smaller. (Hey- I was in fourth grade- before you laugh at my ignorance, remember that!) I don't know what possessed me to look, but I looked down at my own chest at that moment. Oh crap. There, under my light blue, slightly worn sweater was two "nubs" sticking out. Ok, so you're like TMI (too much info) now, but wait. There's a reason for this.
I had developed breasts in 4th grade. Something that others wanted so badly (for unknown reasons!) I had started already and truthfully I didn't want anything to do with them. But why? Why would I have breasts before the other girls? It didn't make sense to me at the time. I, of course went home and my mom made sure I got a training bra (although I swear I skipped that whole phase and went right into the alphabet system for bra sizing!). I had breasts because I was fat. Yes, I'm sure I was beginning puberty too but all of the other changes hadn't started yet. This was it. Maybe it wouldn't have been a lasting memory if others hadn't laughed at it. I don't know. Either way, that's not the end, it was only the beginning.
I made the mistake of trusting my friends and told them about the training bra. Well you know how secrets are kept amongst young girls- they aren't. I took another round of snickering for a while. It did stop eventually, but looking back I realize that the years of ridicule had begun. Little did I know that this fat girl was going to be picked on in so many ways throughout life. It all started that one day in Art class, in fourth grade.
Chapter 1- Intro to My Life
I've been saying for quite a while that I needed to write a book. It first came to me when my nutritionist noticed a marked difference in me, both physically and emotionally and said "You should write a book". Kinda cut and dry huh? Well, I guess this will have to do- a blog- the 21st century version of story writing. So, here I am putting everything in my life in writing.
I had to think about where to begin. Should it be at the point where I realized I wasn't like the other girls in my class? Should it be where middle and high school became difficult (at the very least)? Maybe I could start with the ending? After over analyzing (which I do quite often), I realized that starting at the beginning made the most sense. So here I am. I'm at the beginning. I'll give you an intro to my life as a fat girl and then dive right in to all of the gory details of my life. I make it sound so bad but it truly wasn't I guess. I'm here today aren't I? Many people don't get to say that. Then again, I guess if I want you to keep reading, I should at least tempt your palette with something of interest.
Firstly, I will have to change names, definitely to protect individuals. I know the fun of degrading them now for being so nasty in the past sounds fun but it's not really necessary. I have enough drama in my life. I don't need angry people trying to deny all of the crap they said in the past or for that matter attempting to apologize for their stupidity. Life goes on and Karma is a bitch.
My main goal is to document the trials and tribulations of growing up, of all things, FAT. Yep, I said it. It's that taboo word. You know, it's the other "F" word. Fat. Let it sink in for a moment. Fat. Yeah, there's no ring to it or at least not a good one. You don't feel good saying it. Certainly it doesn't feel good to be called it. You think twice before calling someone else it. Fat. I just think of the number of times I used other words to say it. Overweight. Big boned. Plus-size. Hefty. Chunky. Any number of those other words could be used, but never FAT. Well, here I am and I'm going to use it a lot in the following stories or blogs as we now call them. It's not a word I'm embarrassed to use anymore. It took numerous years to get to this point. So, here's the beginning.
Hey there. I'm Maxine- 32 years old (or young, depending on your view). I've been happily married to a wonderful man (who plays a significant role in my "journey") for almost 12 years. I have two children (who are very important parts of this story). I live in the typical small town but haven't always. Apparently you become a local after so long. I think I've met my initiation time though. I'm pretty normal in all aspects of the word. I'm a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a volunteer, a leader, an employee, a friend, and most of all, I am FAT.
I had to think about where to begin. Should it be at the point where I realized I wasn't like the other girls in my class? Should it be where middle and high school became difficult (at the very least)? Maybe I could start with the ending? After over analyzing (which I do quite often), I realized that starting at the beginning made the most sense. So here I am. I'm at the beginning. I'll give you an intro to my life as a fat girl and then dive right in to all of the gory details of my life. I make it sound so bad but it truly wasn't I guess. I'm here today aren't I? Many people don't get to say that. Then again, I guess if I want you to keep reading, I should at least tempt your palette with something of interest.
Firstly, I will have to change names, definitely to protect individuals. I know the fun of degrading them now for being so nasty in the past sounds fun but it's not really necessary. I have enough drama in my life. I don't need angry people trying to deny all of the crap they said in the past or for that matter attempting to apologize for their stupidity. Life goes on and Karma is a bitch.
My main goal is to document the trials and tribulations of growing up, of all things, FAT. Yep, I said it. It's that taboo word. You know, it's the other "F" word. Fat. Let it sink in for a moment. Fat. Yeah, there's no ring to it or at least not a good one. You don't feel good saying it. Certainly it doesn't feel good to be called it. You think twice before calling someone else it. Fat. I just think of the number of times I used other words to say it. Overweight. Big boned. Plus-size. Hefty. Chunky. Any number of those other words could be used, but never FAT. Well, here I am and I'm going to use it a lot in the following stories or blogs as we now call them. It's not a word I'm embarrassed to use anymore. It took numerous years to get to this point. So, here's the beginning.
Hey there. I'm Maxine- 32 years old (or young, depending on your view). I've been happily married to a wonderful man (who plays a significant role in my "journey") for almost 12 years. I have two children (who are very important parts of this story). I live in the typical small town but haven't always. Apparently you become a local after so long. I think I've met my initiation time though. I'm pretty normal in all aspects of the word. I'm a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a volunteer, a leader, an employee, a friend, and most of all, I am FAT.
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