Fat and I have a history together; one that stretches back as far as I can remember. I don’t remember “when I got fat” but I do remember wondering, “what did fat mean”?
I was about seven years old and I do remember being hungry all the time. Funny that a “fat” kid could be hungry all the time, but that’s about all I remember. I dreamed about food in my sleep. I would stay awake at night…. Plotting my next food run; a trip to the kitchen in the wee dark hours of the night when I knew I wouldn’t be caught. I was a food thief Ninja and I had gotten quite good at it. In fact, I was nicknamed “the snitch” by my stepmother. Okay, I wasn’t a fantastic thief because I was always getting caught.
I stole food. In 1984, I was sure you could ask anyone. I was trouble. I was “that” kid in the family. The disruptive, completely out of control girl who sought trouble. I wish it were that simple.
What did I steal? Good grief, anything I could get my hands on that would go down my throat…literally. The best kind of food was the kind that didn’t leave evidence.
A trip to school on occasion meant I was going to pass by this little gas station called “Circle K”. I would wait for the right moment and stand back and watch from a distance. I would see a group of kids walk in the store and I knew it! It was time to make my move.
I creeped in after them, looked around to make sure no one was paying attention, and I would start stuffing my pockets as quickly as I could. I didn’t care whether it was candy, crackers or bread. It was whatever was edible. My heart would be pumping as I made a b-line for the door and out I went. Undetected most times. Like…. Nightrider. Stealth. I would look back to make sure I was in the clear and let a sigh of relief when I saw that no one was coming after me.
I stole from other people. There was this old guy that used to live behind us. I would climb out my window and sneak over to his backdoor where it opened up to a garage where he kept a freezer/ refrigerator. Let me tell you I thought I won the lottery when I found this unattended pot of gold. I frequented this spot pretty often as I gathered my collection of “food”.
Seven was the first time I remember hearing that word…. “fat”. I got caught like I did many times. Trying to be more and more clever didn’t always work. I mean gimme a break I was seven – creativity only goes so far. Anyway…. I remember standing in the bathroom butt naked. In the hallway were 5 brothers of mine that the stepmother forced to look at their “fat” sister.
I remember hearing “You like stealing food? This is why you are so fat”! I don’t remember all the verbiage to be honest. I do remember getting the official label as “fat”. I knew I disgusted her somehow. I didn’t want to be “fat”… to be honest I looked in the mirror that night and couldn’t see what she was seeing. I still don’t.
The picture above was taken a few days before. You know who I am – I’m the fat girl in the picture. *rolling eyes*
I suppose you could say – I’ve had a history with “fat” since this day. My own neverending story…… of fat.
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