6 weeks tomorrow since I was turned upside down in a wonderful way.
is it sad that I remember the weeks?
I don't really care. I’m too in my own little world of happiness to be truly worried about what other people think. I mean, it’s our own opinion that really counts, isn't it?
On such a note, I will, however, tell you all a little story. It’s not very long in time, nor is it riveting stuff, but it is the catalyst for why I am like I am today in a lot of ways....
I was never a skinny kid. When I was a baby, my parents jokingly called me the Michelin Man - that white mascot for Michelin Tyres that looks like several marshmallows squashed together. And fair enough: I was a fat baby.
Throughout my childhood, I was average weight, nothing special. I have a round face so a short fringe didn't help my plight. And this was okay.
I remember watching a cartoon once on TV on a Saturday. The view panned across the beach, showing buff men and curvy women. Too curvy. I know now that there was no way that a real person could be that way proportioned. I didn't then. I went to my room, pulled up my t-shirt and looked at my own waist. I was straight up and down (and at age 7, pretty well everyone is) I remember trying to push my waist inwards, to see if I had curves. I didn’t. I still don't. I’m one of those poor kids that don't fit the traditional bill of curves. I don't mean like curvy, I mean, as in, not straight up and down. If it's the small penis thing that makes guys feel inadequate, the lack of curves does that to me.
Eh, that’s life.
That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though it does give a little background for this...
when I was in year three, I was at a primary school in the hills. We had a HUGE pine forest as a playground and a large asphalted area too, amongst other things. Not bad for a school of 200 kids from R-7. On the far side of the asphalt, there were sandstone steps leading to the forest. I was coming down them, and noticed three boys from the year above me, in my class (mixed classes) I got about three-quarters across, when He wanted to get my attention:
As soon as His mouth closed, I burst into tears. The insensitivities of kids is incredible. He realised He'd hurt me as soon as the first tear fell, quickly saying, "Oh, I was only joking, don't cry". In his defence, he did sound kinda remorseful. I just told him to go away and ran to the toilets.
I never really got over that. I know this because in writing this, my eyes are getting watery.
In countless parenting Do's and Don’ts it says never criticise yourself in front of your child because they are like little sponges: they soak up everything you do and say. My mother, even now, will complain about how fat she is. She’s really not. And if she stopped buying crappy food for us to eat we'd all be better off. But that’s not the point. my point is this: how the hell am I meant to feel good about myself if my mum, the number one female role model in my life, won't shut up with the negative self talk? It makes me, the only one of my siblings shaped like her in some way, think 'what the hell kinda chance to I have then?!?!'
and while I’m strangely emotional at the moment and I don't know why, having Him read my affirmation, my thoughts on paper, tacked on my wall by my light switch, was one of the most embarrassing things I’ve had to deal with this year. I haven't read it since I put it there (goes to show just how well the initiative is in my mind), then look at me so sadly and say 'is this what you are doing?’ to which I replied 'no' and sat down on my bed. I didn't remember what I’d written, let alone followed it. But that look on his face wouldn’t go away. He leant into me as close as he could, and said to me quietly 'I think you’re beautiful', staring me right into my eyes. if I had known that the last part said 'I’m sick and tired of feeling and looking fat', it would have brought on, right in front of him (so mortifying!), the tears that leaked forth after I did read it again, once everyone had left.
I hate the word 'fat'
it's such an ugly term, for such an ugly state of existence.
And all for the simple reason that I don't know what else I can eat that isn't going to cause me to get sick - too much wheat or dairy doesn't sit well with me.
And that’s all we have in this damned house.
It’s probably why I like Asian food so much - I can eat it and not feel the excruciating pain that my current diet causes.
But yes, I have my moments of ‘I hate myself’. And that is why.