Gordita I.

A while back I mentioned how I've been working on a "series" of entries.
I haven been reluctant to post it because... well, it's hard. It is SO. DAMN. HARD.
I know I often over-share on here, but in real life, I'm as private as they come. I prefer to listen to others talk, than open up and speak. I hate any kind of spotlight, and will fight my way into obscurity.

However, since tomorrow marks a HUGE day for me, I decided to just... let go... and be one-hundred percent sincere on a topic that has engulfed my entire life, centric to my existence:
AnoMALIE is was FAT.

First, I'll start with the "pre," my childhood... the time my issue with fatness is cemented. Where my trauma arose.
I wrote this entry back in July, against my better judgement-- my urge to remain silent-- I'll post it.
I apologize for the sentimentality... but this topic BURNS me to the core... travels down my esophagus, seeps its way to my ventricles... and gets carried down my bloodstream to every inch of my body.
I'm so sorry.

*** 

I'm very tired after a day of being relatively sad... so this means I'm pretty vulnerable right now.
Add a laptop to this late-night vulnerability, and you get my equivalent to a drunk person and a cellphone full of ex's numbers.
Well, no, not like that.
I'm just going to spill my guts about something I guard very tightly when I'm in a normal state of mind.

I'm currently facing a problem I never thought I'd have.
In the past, I criticized others for their reactions, but now that I'm in their shoes, I'm having a difficult time dealing.

I've made it more than clear that I've always had a self-esteem issue. I've never really liked myself.
This has made people suspect that maybe I hate myself because I'm "in the closet," but those who know me best can attest to that being false.
My image problem stems from being told I'm not good enough, and that I'm "ugly" ever since I was a toddler.
It's kind of fucking hard to get out of that mindset after decades of hearing the same shit.

In the early years, I didn't have the "fat" issue, because I was a healthy kid whose mom didn't allow her to have junk food until she knew how to read (and even then, Mom didn't buy junk food until I was in 5th grade... and the junk food would be either a bag of Doritos or Hot Cheetos). I was also very active... so I stayed skinny.

Happy, healthy kids...
who are more than stoked over the fact that they're finally going to try some sugar.

Then puberty hit.
I still remember (Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm going to admit this, but fuck it, let's be real. No sarcasm or hyperbole used for self-preservation this time)
::deep breath::
being in third grade and that being my first time feeling the pressure to "lose weight."
A week or so after third grade would be over, I was going to be making my first communion... and I was stressed over fitting into my perfect white dress.
I had purchased that motherfucking dress the previous year, because I was... one of those little bridesmaids at weddings-- not exactly a flower girl, but I was one of the girls in charge of carrying the train of the bride's dress.
Anyway, kids grow. So I was outgrowing this dress at a fast pace.
A month before my first communion, I remember stepping on my dad's scale and looking down at my weight for the very first time:
94 lbs.
FUCK! I NEED TO LOSE THIS!
I CLEARLY remember thinking that.
I was a 94 pound third grader. NINETY-FOUR-FUCKING-POUNDS!
I can't begin to describe the sense of... worthlessness that overcame me at that moment. I mean, I was in NO WAY expecting to see that number. NO WAY.
I remember setting the goal of NOT breaking the 100 mark.
The day before my first communion, I stepped on the scale:
102 lbs.
I did my first communion with puffy eyes.
Mom has a jumbo-sized photo from my first communion hanging in the living room. It mortifies me... because you can see how disgusted I am with myself. A nine year old... hating herself.

I DID NOT lose weight after that. In fact, I just kept gaining it... but not in the best places.  I was flat as a board... I looked like a pudgy little boy. I reminded myself of a carcass whose getting consumed by bacteria/maggots on the inside... you know, when they get bloated right before they burst and get super disgusting?
But still, in today's standards, I wouldn't be considered out of the ordinary. I don't know where exactly all that heaviness came from... but it was there.

My next devastating encounter came in 8th grade Health class.
The teacher measured all of our heights... and weights... in front of the entire class.
That has to rank as one of the most humiliating moments in my life.
I remember her being a mean bitch... she was scary, in her late 20's... and she CLEARLY didn't think through this idea of hers.

She measured EVERYONE... and my heart rate would only increase with each new person to get measured... because the rest of the classmates were SO interested in seeing what others weighed.
Of course, the teacher would facilitate this curiosity of my fellow classmates because she'd call out the weight and height of the person she'd be measuring.
I remember my heart racing, and almost fainting... because I was terrified.
The teacher was using one of those legit scales doctors have, which also measure your height... so it was very easy for others to read... just in case they couldn't hear the teacher, ya know?

I was the second to last person.
It was one of those moments where you can't hear shit because of the blood rushing to your now-beet-red face, you're suffering tunnel vision... everything fades, and nothing else matters.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, I walked over to the scale.

Defeated, I stood quietly as she measured my height.
"5'6" and a half, " she called out loud.
I was the tallest person measured up to that point.

Then the weight.
First, the 100lb weight. Bam! Didn't budge.
Move the small weight? Nope... that doesn't cut it.
Add... the 50lb.
The girls in class gasped once they saw that.
I bowed my head in shame... not wanting to see the final number.

I made eye-contact with the teacher before resting my gaze on the floor... making sure she understood it as my "I'm the good girl in class who never talks and does all her homework on time... I didn't deserve to be humiliated like this..." look. That was exactly what I was thinking, at least. I saw regret in her face... but she still kept going. She had to finish what she had started.
She had to add a 20lb weight.

The loud, obnoxious guys hooted and hollered "OH MAAAAAN!!"
My throat was hurting by now, from holding back the tears. I could hear one of the bitches in class whisper "Damn... she's already at 170 pounds!"

By now, I was the heaviest person in class, by at least 20 pounds.
This time, the small little weight only had to move over three tiny marks.
"A hundred and seventy-three pounds..." a classmate called out. "A HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THREE POUNDS!"
The teacher then tried ameliorating the pathetic, traumatic scene by declaring "REMEMBER! MUSCLE WEIGHS MORE THAN FAT!"
Yeah... because I'm totally a ripped 14 year old, lady.

The last kid to get weighed was a 6'2" 203 pound basketball player. Sure, he was the heaviest... but he was also the tallest... and a fucking basketball player.

I don't know how I still functioned for the rest of school... Health was my second period out of six for the day.

***

That's where it ends.
That's where I'll pick up tomorrow.