A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I wasn’t fat. (I wasn’t skinny. Don’t be ridiculous! But I wasn’t fat.) That being said, I also had hair, but that is a whole other blog entry. So, I have never been skinny. When I was a kid, I believe the term they used was “Husky”. (At least that’s what it said on my Tough Skins.)
I was always self conscious of my weight growing up, and learned to laugh and joke about it as a weigh (see what I did there) to deflect peoples attention. You have no power to make fun of me, if I have already made fun of myself. To this day, you will hear me refer to myself as the “Fat, bald-headed guy”. It doesn’t really bother me any more even though I am bigger than I have ever been. I am also smarter, and make more money, so piss off! At forty-five I have accepted myself along with all of my short comings, and don’t dwell on it. My wife loves me (probably wishes I wasn’t so fat and bald, but she loves me) and that is all that matters.
When I was 21, I applied for the Sheriff’s Department. I had wanted to be a Peace Officer for a long time, and was a little stressed by the hiring process. I had to pass a written Civil Service test, (Not an issue) pass a background check, (they talked to several people that knew me, and neighbors.) a psych evaluation, (worried about that one) a polygraph, (lie to yourself enough and it becomes the truth to you) and a physical (well shit!).
I went to my family doctor. The doctor that I had gone to since I was a kid. I think his name was Dr. Melville. So, I get a check-up, run a stress test, all that stuff and when it’s over he writes in my chart, “Morbidly Obese”. I weighed 197 lbs. at 5’10”. Fuck you Dr. Melville! I mean, really! WTF! I was healthy. I ran the stress test until they told me to stop, not until I couldn’t any longer. That scarred me for the rest of my life. The rest of my big fat, bald-headed, “Morbidly Obese” life. Well, maybe not my whole life.
Now, at 45, I weigh almost 100 lbs. more than I did when I was declared “Morbidly Obese”. I am a grand ol’ 285 lbs. And you know what? I don’t give a shit! I am happy.
At 25 years old, and 220 lbs. I married the woman I had been in love with since I was 14 years old. Raised amazing, intelligent, beautiful children and watched them grow into amazing , intelligent, beautiful adults.
I guess the moral of this story is that you can let the words and opinions of others define who you are, or you can choose to make yourself into who you want to be. Or at least into a person you don’t mind being.
If you are still alive, now 24 years later, you can suck it.
Fat, Bald, and Happy… But I guess still a little obtuse.