I was an overweight kid until tenth grade. I wish I could say I shrank in size then, but I didn’t.
That was the year Ms. Gandy – my Lit teacher- made each of her students read three works by fifteen authors of our choosing. Aldous Huxley was one of the writers I picked and, although I can’t recall the name of the story, it changed the way I viewed my size. It was a tale of someone’s Great Aunt so-and-so who happened to have a remedy that brought about weight loss.
In the story, the nephew’s co-worker begged relentlessly for the concoction. When he finally got it, it didn’t change his body size at all. It made him weightless. He floated.
Oh no! The bullies were right.
I’d been fat all along. “Overweight,” wasn’t an accurate term. Just polite.
There were times, if I’d had Great Aunt so-and-so’s tonic, I would have stepped outside and let the breeze carry me away. So it’s good the “remedy” was imagined.
Those moments of sadness were fleeting. They usually are.
My good friend and author, Sarah L. Cornett-Hagen reminded me one day that nothing stays the same. Life isn’t good all the time. So if the good stuff doesn’t stay forever, neither does the bad stuff. That simple concept has helped me more than once.
I picture life like the tides. Highs and lows, good and bad–they’re all part of the balance. (Although the tides are much more predictable than life).
Love makes everything better.
So love yourself. Learn from your mistakes and forgive yourself as you would your own child.
After all, if you think about it, we are our own firstborn.
Auntie April and I don’t call people fat. They are either sinkers (skinny) or floaters (more substance than a sinker).
Speaking of bullies. Have you noticed they only bully others if they have an audience?