My Friends & I

By: Kristina Hollon

Copyrighted and Published, 2011

I have always been big. I have always had weight and it has attached itself to me with a bond that I have never able to break. A bond that has been permanently super glued, nailed, taped, and concreted into my skin.  Not that this is entirely bad, I mean, at least I have cushion when I fall, right? …Right? Ok, so that isn’t really all that convincing is it?

The fact is that I am not much of a self motivator of myself. I get put down once and then I give up. It is the end of the world kind of thing. I used to dance when I was younger, I used to love it. I once got so excited when there was a tryout to become a DJ Dancer. I got my groove on and went out onto the floor. Bopping and shaking to the music using the dance routine I had just learned. However, I was not picked! At the time I was very devastated. Now, looking back, I can see that I was not the only one bopping and shaking to the movements; my attached “friends” (called fat) decided to join me. I guess only one of us could become a DJ Dancer, and since “we” were a team at the time the judges said no.

I tired many different activities as I grew, activities like softball, soccer, rollerblading, where I would normally usually find myself on the floor dusting off, trying to pull myself and my attached friends off the ground. Bowling was the only activity that I successfully kept us standing up right. However, that became too expensive. Did you know they don’t give discounts on groups of fats? Oh well. I started to get used to these new friends of mine and we bonded especially when it came to that extra chocolate doughnut. We were the best of friends; we hung out together all the time. That is, until one day I was out and about when a cop came over to where I was and told me that I needed to tuck my “friends” into a looser pair of pants. It was nice to see that he cared enough to warn me about them getting to cold by hanging out and about. My “friends” didn’t judge me and I didn’t judge them.

My fats and I even worked out together! Yes I know most people didn’t believe me when I told them we exercised all the time. It takes a lot of effort to move your arm and hand back and forth from the table to your mouth over and over again until you reach thousand times (or until the bag of Fritos is gone).  Plus, how many people are able to tell you that they can carry a fifty pound weight with them all the time? Well I could. In fact, in a few years I was carrying a hundred and fifty pounds of weight all the time! I was working out more than most of those professional weight trainers.

However, there came a time when my new “friends” needed to be shed so they could be free. Yet, no matter what I did, they stayed put. I tried coaxing them with various techniques. I placed a chocolate chip cookie on the table saying to them that they could have it if they detached from me. Without warning my fat talked my stomach into making gurgling sounds and as if it understood what the fat was saying, my hand grabbed the cookie and placed it into my opened mouth, which had been watering at the sight of the cookie. Darn, so my fat was a good talker. I tried to walk them off, but they clung tighter saying the world scared them. In fact they anchored more weight on me and made it to where I could hardly walk out of my bedroom. I will drown them off was my next thought as I headed to the gym. I threw on my bathing suit lifted the anchor and tossed it into the pool. Down went me and my attached friends…down…down…bubbles…bubbles…POP. I was now floating on the water. I guess they turn into a life vest in water. I tried to get them to want a new owner, but they all said they were fond of me! A little too fond, if you ask me.” I then decided for their own good I was going to change my foods to healthier foods, which would have worked, if my mouth would have cooperated, but it didn’t. My mouth did not care for the taste. Even my nose lifted itself up in the air and my stomach decided to throw it all back up at me. 

It seemed as if I was stuck but then a surprise happened. After a while a pound of fat decided it wanted to leave. So I gladly smiled and waved goodbye. Then another two pounds decided to leave, I was so happy, I cried.  I told them to have a great time, live their life well, and that I would never forget the fun times we shared. I was grateful. I knew I did a job well done, but as luck had it all three pounds (and any others that left) always return from what turned out to be short vacations. To top it off, the fats would tell their new friends how nice I was and invited them to stay with me and them.  Welcome new friends I call “inch here” and “inch there”. I just wish they would have told me that they were going to return and bring friends this way I would not have bought a certain new dress that was two sizes too small, but instead buy the dress that was four sizes larger and the right fit.

Years gone by more “friends” of fats were invited and I carried more weight. I stopped trying to have them move on. I lost all my motivation. They just would not leave. I have asked politely, starring in a mirror yelling at them telling them to go away! I have tried to cut them out, sweat them out, and starve them out, but no avail; nothing seemed to work.  Every time one “friend” leaves it comes back with three more. Well, at least I was popular. It is just that these were not the friends I intended to become popular with. The problem is while they are having a party inside of me, the outside of me is having a breakdown. My skin was stretching and said it couldn’t take the pressure, my feet were grounded due to the weight and my mind was wondering what had gone wrong.

 I am getting older, my fat wider, and my Prince Charming’s have all disappeared. I started to pretend that I was skinny, in perfect health but there is so much pretending you can do before the department store clerk comes over to explain that you will not fit into that pair of jeans nor that black jacket that you have been eyeing ever since you were nine years old. Then the clerk takes the Barbie clothes out of your hands and places them back on the shelf next to the Barbie twilight dolls.

            My fat and I started to find disagreements. Our bond started to break since I was fighting to be something I was not and they were fighting to be something they were. However, please don’t think that they were all rude. I mean they did like to share. They would share depression, low self-esteem, hunger and fatigue. These are not easy to share either. I tried but others would not participate with me. Oh and my fat friends were great supporters when it comes to the causes of being lazy, eating food, and the lack of motivation. My lack of motivation was supported by the hurt of my back in the past two years. My back hurt thanks to a reluctant Great Pyrenees dog and his kennel, but that is for another story. Still it does add to the loss of enjoyment of life, especially when you throw together low self-esteem, back ache, lack of motivation, and struggling to live all together, into a lifetime. By doing so you are on the highway to my life. 

“Motivation is the key.” I say to me but how can one motivate someone who wishes not to be…me? I look into the mirror and the only word that comes to my mind is why? Yet no answer comes to me so I go back to the gym.

The “friends” started talking mutiny inside of me; they are aiming at my heart. I tried to fight back. After the first few hits I realized I was bruised to a deep shade of blue from hitting myself where the fat was. The fat was still attached as if it was unaffected feeling numb.  Suddenly a cold chill runs over me as I am now soaking wet. Confused I hear people chant “Save the whale! Save the poor beached whale!” as they circle around me at the gym. They got the “poor” right since I am not rich but whale? I thought.  Splash! I am hit with more cold water. My fat soaks into my skin and swelling bloats me as I am thrown into the ocean, mistaken for a whale (darn blue bruises). I make friends with the fish and after a while I try to strike up a deal with a sucker fish to suck out the fat. He however charges a sand dollar which I don’t have. I feel like an inflatable pool toy as I bob up and down shaking to the rhythm of the water along with my fat. Suddenly I burst out into laughter remembering our dancing days. Now we are dancing on water rejected once again. My fat and I begin to bond again. I ask my fat “How about a chocolate donut?” As I make my way out of the waters. I stroll down the street thinking if you can’t beat them join them taking one step at a time. One step, and another, and another and…oh look a sand dollar!

Inside my head I hear crying, there is even talk about dying. Make it stop! Make it go away! Tick Tock, Tick Tock. Why the delay? ~Kristina Hollon~