Rebirth

In just 25 minutes, my self-setting alarm clock will go straight from 1:59am to 3:00am. Totally skipping an entire hour that I won't miss until it's time for me to wake up for work on Monday. All so it stays lighter in the evening. Spring is on it's way.

The past week has been beautiful here in Fairmont, WV. I broke out the capris and bought a new pair of white canvas slip ons. I love it.

Spring, while not my favorite season, is a close second. I got married in the spring. Tulips and daffodils bloom. Brown lawns give way to beautiful green yards full of promise. I love opening my windows and taking in a deep breath of new fresh air.

Life is renewed. So, it's my time to renew my commitment to myself.

I've been failing myself. As physically uncomfortable my fat suit is, I have taken refuge in its safety for 18 years. I initially gained weight due to a genetic endocrine disorder called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, or PCOS for short. But I also gained weight to become someone who was no longer pretty. I didn't want to stick out in a crowd. I didn't want any attention. I didn't want anyone to look at me and think, "sexy."

I was sexually harassed when I was a junior in high school that carried onto my senior year. I would say they were the worst two years of my life; however, I've given them so much control and power, they have managed to give me the 18 most difficult years of my life.

It all started with a car accident the night before the start of my junior year and the ends that it caused are many. I totalled my parents' car and I totalled my chances of having some of the best years of my life.

I was driving home from a band practice, less than a mile from my house. It was in the upper 80's and I hadn't eaten all day and I passed out while driving home. I hit a telephone pole on the other side of the road while unconscious and woke up in an ambulance on my way to the hospital. Other than totaling the car, the worst part for me was that it was first ride in an ambulance and I realized I was not siren worthy. Of course I never saw, but I hope I was at least lights flashing worthy. But I digress.

I went to school the next morning and standing in the band room, one of my favorite places given how much I really enjoyed and excelled in music, I was asked about the accident that happened that almost everyone in the room had witnessed. I explained I had not eaten and passed out. Then the bomb was dropped. The comment came from one of my classmates that the reason I had the accident was because I "had that masturbation thing going on."

To this day I have no idea where that comment came from or why it was said but it was like the next two years of my life had been set up like dominoes and that comment was the initial domino to fall starting the avalanche of misery.

The comments that came from my other classmates in other classes made me want to die. I don't mean die as in suicide, I mean I wanted to become invisible. So, I ate. Then the comments came, "I wonder what it would be like to f**k the fat chick." This lovely quote came from a different classmate. But I soon noticed that the fatter I got, the less comments I received.

I was physically assaulted (shirt ripped, bra strap unhooked by a boy sitting behind me, butt grabbed while I changed classes, etc.) and the verbal and emotional harassment is something I can not even describe. I wanted to be invisible. So, I hid under the cover of fatness.

I left the band that year. I also left my ability to read music, play the instruments I was so talented on, and my zest for life behind that year. To this day, I can not longer play the sax, flute or piano and I can't even force myself to learn how to read a sheet of music. I know because I've tried. I bought my husband a musical keyboard our first Christmas together, 80% for him and 20% for me. I wanted to get that part of my life back. I bought How To books, looked into taking lessons, and even sitting down to see if I could remember songs from the past and every single time I felt the same way: nauseous.

I would spend the next 18 years covered in a shroud of obesity. To this day, fat is comfortable to me. I feel safe.

Actually, I must say it's the weirdest feeling. I'm petrified of dropping dead of a heart attack and not living to reach the age of retirement, but I'm so scared of being thin again.

Last year I sent a message via Facebook to the initial domino. I reminded him of his comments to me that day and told him what it started and how I'm still allowing myself to be overpowered by my fears, anger, and resentment. He apologized. His response brought tears to my eyes. I felt victorious. But I'm still fat.

Please be advised that I'm writing this not because I'm still controlled by those "boys" but because it explains who I am and how I got here. It is every much a part of my 318 pounds as the PCOS, infertility drugs, and emotional eating have been. Regardless of the fact I feel like I took my power back, I'm still scared of being thinner.

A lot of people have told me how brave I am putting my weight and sizes out on the World Wide Web for the world to see. What they don't realize is that is the only brave thing I've managed to accomplish. I've lost a total of 15 pounds since starting this blog. It should have been more but it hasn't been because I'm scared to death of being skinny again.

No one realizes that obese people are not obese out of sheer laziness or lack of desire to be thinner, but because it provides us with a place to hide so that we are not hurt again. In America, and most other societies, the bigger you are the more transparent you become. I was less visible at 180 pounds than I was at 105. Today I am practically invisible. And that's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.

In order for me to become successful in losing weight and getting healthier, I have to quit being so afraid of being the old me. The thinner me. The girl who stood in front of her peers while she was being burned at the proverbial stake. Someone has to take the abuse of the popular kids so they can retain their validity. I was that someone. I still feel like that someone.

Well, I'm tired of it. I'm screaming into a vacuum and no one can hear me. I'm scared of being thinner, prettier, and more desirable. I'm afraid of losing weight, becoming thinner, feeling sexy, having my husband find me sexy, and feeling a lot less self aware.

The irony of obesity: The bigger you get the more invisible you become to everyone but yourself. And flight attendants. I have nightmares about three times a week about being kicked off a plane.

Well, I've got to just snap out of it and realize that I'm not alone this time. So what if I'm thinner and more visible and someone says something hurtful, I have a husband who will protect me, defend me, and love me.

I've spent most of my adult life working to defend the rights of: foster children, the mentally retarded, developmentally disabled, drug addicts, and the homeless. I fight for people. It's what I do. Until it comes to me, then well, all my fight is gone.

I get so angry at my job sometimes because it feels like I do and give so much of myself for those who are unable to defend themselves that when I need a coach in my corner, I find myself all alone.

We have started to work towards adopting our child. I already feel so defensive of the little African American child we will welcome into our home. I get beyond angry when someone tells me we'd be better served with a white baby. I am defending the rights and race of a child that hasn't even been conceived yet when I should be fighting for myself. Well, that's what I'm going to be doing for myself this spring.

The clock has turned, time has sprung and now I've got to get serious. And to show myself, my family, and every other person who takes the time to read this how serious I am, I am willing to go on record now and say that while we will continue to raise money, save money, and prepare for the adoption, we will not begin the home study process until I'm down 50 pounds from my starting weight. I have roughly 35 more pounds to go.

I'll get there and I'll keep going. Somewhere along the way as I drop pounds, I hope I find my self worth. It's buried deep inside me. I just have to hope I dig it up along the way.

Well, I'm going to close now. I've already lost an hour of sleep and I have to get some rest. I have to counsel someone out of a fat suit in the morning..

Happy Spring!