Jeffrey Keyes, Knee High Boots and a certain little black dress I have to wear this July... these are just some of the things that keep me motivated.
Jeffrey...
Growing up, I was super morbidly obese. I was topping 100 pounds in the 3rd grade. My parents were too wrapped up in their own drama to be concerned with my burgeoning weight. And, with a mother who was rounding 500 pounds, agoraphobic and slept most of her day - weight was a huge taboo. I recall that when my parents fight, I knew the fever pitch had set in when my father mentioned my mother "getting off her fat ass." So, very very fat and living in a trailer park... I sortof had a giant target on me from the word go.
People say, "kids are cruel." That's like saying the Titanic ran into an ice cube tray. Understatement. My parents (who never ran out of cigarettes, with 3 pack a day habits EACH) couldn't afford to buy me socks. I told kids at school that I was wearing "invisible socks." I was 8 people, it's not that lame! I would ask my mom to help me lose weight, and she would inform me that I was never going to be thin, so I might as well accept it. Kids called me horrible names and I took it all to heart. There was this one.... Jeffrey Keyes. He was the worst. My own personal demon sent from the depths of hell to bury me in my misery. Thanks to Jeffrey, I had a single friend throughout Elementary and Middle School. She still wet the bed... so, big target there too. Jeffrey was the one who gave me my nickname, Pig. Jeffrey was the one who raised his hand one day in 8th grade and suggested we fill my belly button up with water so they all could go swimming. Everyone laughed. I went home and attempted suicide for the first time.
So, like a good little demon, Jeffrey has crossed my mind on various occasions throughout my life: the first time someone said I was beautiful, the first time I fell in love, my wedding, when I was carrying my children, everytime I get up and sing Karoke... there he is, taunting me... torturing me. Reminding me to shrink away, hide from any and all attention... reminding me that I don't even deserve to be alive.
In 2008, I ran into Jeffrey. I was running into the bank to make a deposit... and he was working as a teller. He recognized me immediately. Of course I knew who he was as well. My heart began to race, my knees went weak. Bile rose in my throat and I ran outside, getting sick in the bushes.
I am losing this weight so I can go into that damned bank again, walk right up to his teller stall and conduct a transaction. Then, I just want to walk away. No confrontation, no teary eyed confession of how one little boy caused me so much psychological agony. Just success at facing him, looking him in the eye, acknowledging that I am a different person now... that I am no longer Pig, and that I love myself. I need to forgive myself so I can forgive him and all those children.
Boots...
I have the cutest pair of knee high leather boots. I bought them and they didn't fit... My calves were too large. I pulled on them, I stretched them, I paid $100 for a shoe repair store to stretch them... they still don't fit. I laid on my bed and cried over those boots, hating that I could be so defeated by some leather, thread and a zipper. Today, I can zip those beauties up all but 4 inches. I am going to get there, I am going to wear those sexy ass boots if it kills me and I have to be buried in them. Unfortunately it is now Spring, and knee highs are no longer the fashion. No worries, I'll rock 'em in the Autumn.
Black Dress...
Do you have that friend, the one who loves you so much that she never fully sees your many flaws? If so, you are truly blessed. I have one, it's my Sara. Sara is marrying Adrian in July. Sara has an amazing body and looks terrific in a paper sack. She also has great taste and chose for her bridesmaids these cute LITTLE dresses for us to wear. I just can not stand the idea of ruining her wedding pics (I can hear her arguing with me now), so I sweat and work because I love her more than my own sisters. Before, the idea of dresses scared the hell out of me. Now, I just get excited about losing another 40 pounds before her wedding (eep!) and rocking the hell out of that little number. Even have the cutest pair of strappy heels to wear with it. The bride should always be the most glamorous, gorgeous creature at her wedding - and Sara will be, make no mistake! - but I wouldn't mind making the top ten... and certainly wouldn't mind if I was no longer the biggest friend in the pictures.
That's what motivates me... along with the usual: kids, health... all that jazz - this is the meat of it. When I can barely see, sweat pouring in my eyes and feel like I want to give up, I remember Jeffrey, boots and Sara's sexy dress and somehow I find a few more miles within myself.
Jeffrey...
Growing up, I was super morbidly obese. I was topping 100 pounds in the 3rd grade. My parents were too wrapped up in their own drama to be concerned with my burgeoning weight. And, with a mother who was rounding 500 pounds, agoraphobic and slept most of her day - weight was a huge taboo. I recall that when my parents fight, I knew the fever pitch had set in when my father mentioned my mother "getting off her fat ass." So, very very fat and living in a trailer park... I sortof had a giant target on me from the word go.
People say, "kids are cruel." That's like saying the Titanic ran into an ice cube tray. Understatement. My parents (who never ran out of cigarettes, with 3 pack a day habits EACH) couldn't afford to buy me socks. I told kids at school that I was wearing "invisible socks." I was 8 people, it's not that lame! I would ask my mom to help me lose weight, and she would inform me that I was never going to be thin, so I might as well accept it. Kids called me horrible names and I took it all to heart. There was this one.... Jeffrey Keyes. He was the worst. My own personal demon sent from the depths of hell to bury me in my misery. Thanks to Jeffrey, I had a single friend throughout Elementary and Middle School. She still wet the bed... so, big target there too. Jeffrey was the one who gave me my nickname, Pig. Jeffrey was the one who raised his hand one day in 8th grade and suggested we fill my belly button up with water so they all could go swimming. Everyone laughed. I went home and attempted suicide for the first time.
So, like a good little demon, Jeffrey has crossed my mind on various occasions throughout my life: the first time someone said I was beautiful, the first time I fell in love, my wedding, when I was carrying my children, everytime I get up and sing Karoke... there he is, taunting me... torturing me. Reminding me to shrink away, hide from any and all attention... reminding me that I don't even deserve to be alive.
In 2008, I ran into Jeffrey. I was running into the bank to make a deposit... and he was working as a teller. He recognized me immediately. Of course I knew who he was as well. My heart began to race, my knees went weak. Bile rose in my throat and I ran outside, getting sick in the bushes.
I am losing this weight so I can go into that damned bank again, walk right up to his teller stall and conduct a transaction. Then, I just want to walk away. No confrontation, no teary eyed confession of how one little boy caused me so much psychological agony. Just success at facing him, looking him in the eye, acknowledging that I am a different person now... that I am no longer Pig, and that I love myself. I need to forgive myself so I can forgive him and all those children.
Boots...
I have the cutest pair of knee high leather boots. I bought them and they didn't fit... My calves were too large. I pulled on them, I stretched them, I paid $100 for a shoe repair store to stretch them... they still don't fit. I laid on my bed and cried over those boots, hating that I could be so defeated by some leather, thread and a zipper. Today, I can zip those beauties up all but 4 inches. I am going to get there, I am going to wear those sexy ass boots if it kills me and I have to be buried in them. Unfortunately it is now Spring, and knee highs are no longer the fashion. No worries, I'll rock 'em in the Autumn.
Black Dress...
Do you have that friend, the one who loves you so much that she never fully sees your many flaws? If so, you are truly blessed. I have one, it's my Sara. Sara is marrying Adrian in July. Sara has an amazing body and looks terrific in a paper sack. She also has great taste and chose for her bridesmaids these cute LITTLE dresses for us to wear. I just can not stand the idea of ruining her wedding pics (I can hear her arguing with me now), so I sweat and work because I love her more than my own sisters. Before, the idea of dresses scared the hell out of me. Now, I just get excited about losing another 40 pounds before her wedding (eep!) and rocking the hell out of that little number. Even have the cutest pair of strappy heels to wear with it. The bride should always be the most glamorous, gorgeous creature at her wedding - and Sara will be, make no mistake! - but I wouldn't mind making the top ten... and certainly wouldn't mind if I was no longer the biggest friend in the pictures.
That's what motivates me... along with the usual: kids, health... all that jazz - this is the meat of it. When I can barely see, sweat pouring in my eyes and feel like I want to give up, I remember Jeffrey, boots and Sara's sexy dress and somehow I find a few more miles within myself.
WOMAN! You made me cry AGAIN! You're damn right I yelled at the screen when I read the part about you ruining the wedding. NEVER. You are beautiful and always will be. I love you because of your heart, that smile, and your dedication. And anyone who never got the chance and the HONOR to see that part of you because they judge on the outside is not worth it.
ReplyDeleteSo put on those boots, kick Jeffrey square between the eyes (at least in your head) and we'll go out on the town. Cause I will ALWAYS be here and I can't wait to celebrate with you. I love you.
I love the upclose photo of your face, you are beautiful.
ReplyDeleteReading about Jeffrey makes me really angry. I'm sad that you had to go through all of that, but also amazed because you seem so smart, funny, and you are a great writer too! So I feel like you have come out on top of it all.
Jules - thanks. I honestly don't know how I did it - how I "came out on top." I think we all have a survivor instinct... and I am obviously still honing mine. Thanks for your comment, it means a lot to me.
ReplyDelete