Space

The world around me often moves to fast. I have so much to say but nothing is in perspective. Everything seems like a ghost, a vague image that I can not grab hold to and that is disillusioning. It can lead you to distrust those stationary things sitting right in front of you.

While using the restroom at work today a coworker had her 5 year old with her. Upon seeing me, the child whispered, very loudly, “mommy she’s big.”

Stacey, the child’s mother, made it a point to explain to the child she shouldn’t say things like that because it’s not nice. When is the truth ever nice. And, since I wasn’t supposed to hear the whisper anyway, I couldn’t interject and tell Stacey it was no problem.

 I have battled with my weight for a very long time. I make no excuses for it because no one can change it but me. I really can’t explain to you how it go so out of ocontrol but it did. Now I often find myself so detached from the problem that a solution seems impossible.

 

I’ve tried diet, life changes and atkins. At one point I convinced myself to get surgery, life endangering surgery, to lose the weight. Despite my obesity, my life until now, has been a normal one. It is my spirit that has prevailed thus far. Recently I moved out of my apartment on the third floor. Yes, for two years, I lived on the third floor of my apartment complex. I know people three and four times smaller than me who couldn’t make it up the stairs once, I did it every single day, twice.

But, having no henderence on my mobility lso kept me disillusioned. I never lost anything. I wasn’t the most popular in school but I was known well enough that I never experienced the alienation that fat kids normally endure. I kept up way too much drama for that to happen anyway. Growing into an adult, I developed a sense of self that helped me ignore my weight and focus on what I consider to be my best assets.

It is true that you don’t have true perception of just how big you are until little things begin to change. Getting off the couch becomes a chore. Getting out of the car, shopping, picking things up off of the floor, being intimate, finding intimacy, all become harder to accomplish.

I don’t feel sorry for myself at all. I do, however, know that a battle is ahead of me. I don’t have the low self-esteem that most people assume obese people have. Granted, I am self-conscious but I sincerely love myself because I know what I have to offer. My issue is normally with others. Because there is often a perception that being fat is some how a plague that is airborn. I usually laugh it off but its painful to think that people shun others because of such superficial things. Ironically, we are all guilty.

My situation has become critical. I was told at 27 carrying the weight I carry could cause my life to be much shorter than I had hoped. It’s funny that at one point in my life I never thought I would see 25. So, now when life actually seems doable, when I have overcome homelessness, lovelessness, lost-ness, and for once am excited about life, about a future that finally seems possible, the one battle I have continuously loss may be the winner of the war.

My case is not one of a sad story because this won’t beat me. So many people have rallied around me with support and I am thankful. As prideful as I am, I won’t make it without it.

Writing this only helps me put the task at hand in perspective and grab hold of the ghost. I still don’t see it clearly but I know its there. I can not avoid it or be distracted any longer so now I must commit to a change that feels unnatural.  It’s funny that  I didn’t believe in ghost stories until I saw one for myself.

Throw the first punch and make sure it’s fruit

I will never be what you want me to be

I don’t want revolution

I want peace

I don’t go to bed dreaming of how to make a better

Black World

A better

Feminine World

I just want a world that’s fit for all of me

Different peaces of the quilt

That look beautiful together

And make you warm

Keep you covered and comforted

I just want to be me

Whoever I am

Let me define my definitions

Let me make this look good

Let me split you down the middle

And demand you give all of you

For my cause

Doesn’t taste like home does it

Taste like spoiled milk

Spilt a long time ago

And you keep staring at the stain

Waiting for someone to notice how bad

you want it to go away

Waiting on the bandwagon

to band together 

And it’s not that I don’t agree

that the stain has to go

But covering it up isn’t enough

For me

I want to make damn sure we don’t keep spilling milk

It’s messy and we can’t afford it

I’ll never be what you expect

And I love it that way

I took 10 steps back

And gave you room to be you

All I’m asking

is that you politely oblige