Up until I was about seven years old, I was the skinniest kid I knew. My mother used to brag about me to all of the mothers around that I was so skinny.
Then, at about eight years old, I was possesed by a fat kid. I'm not sure why I was chosen -- perhaps I had the hips for it -- what I do know is that he has been my constant companion and enemy ever since that fateful day.
I remember mom was yelling (again) at only God knows what and I scurried to my room like an ostrich to plow my head into the nearest hole until the danger had past. As I ran into the room, I stopped at my antique (garage sale crappy) dresser and looked in the mirror. The fat kid made me stick my hand in the top drawer where I unearthed my treasure -- one-half of a melted peanut butter cup. My fingers tingled at the touch of the chocolate, my nose quivered in delight at the peanut butter goodness that my mouth was already watering for. In those fateful moments, my life changed forever. From that day onward, the fat kid would lure me into associating every negative emotion I had with food.
As I grew ever awkwardly into my teenage years, so did my negative emotions and the comfort I sought that only the sweetest of foods could bring. Although I aged and matured, the fat kid never did. He would stare at me in my darkest of moments pleading with me to sample just a bite of the saccrine filled drug that I longed for. I was an addict.
I was uncoordinated, the fat kid hated sports and in that he was my ally. He never pushed me to go outside and play. He never encouraged me to practice when my high school gym teacher invented the five strike rule in hopes that I might connect with the ball some day.
On the other hand, he never consoled me as I was tortured and beaten daily by the bullies. He never encourage me when my mothers barrage of daily insults impacted my heart like missles. He had his own agenda.
At various times in my life I would gather the courage to fight him, but his will, his power always won in the end.
In 2001, I joined the Air Force and I began the biggest battle with the fat kid that I'd ever experienced. We (the fat kid and I) had a regimented diet, and a grueling daily physical training program. He was pissed. I could see the look in his eyes when I looked upon my own countenance in the mirror. He frightened me to say the least. He vowed that he would get his revenge when I least expected it.
In December of 2006 I was put on the temporary disability retirement listing and left the active duty Air Force to find a cure for my opcipital neuralgia. It was then, when I was at my weakest, he began an all-out assault.
From the moment I drove outside the main gate he taunted me. I finally pulled over to get a peanut butter cup and a Mountain Dew. I told him it would never happen again. I told him he would not win. I told him that I was stronger now. I was wrong.
I met my the most amazing woman in May of 2007, and while I didn't know it at the time, she was to be my future wife. Through the battle with my parents and her parents, he was there to ensure me that my only recourse and way of relief was to eat. I listened and he laughed with every pound that I put on.
Meg (my wife) encouraged me to start a "Thin and Healthy" program offered at our local fitness center. I agreed. The fat kid was enraged.
During that six week period, I lost 20 pounds and several inches off of my stomach -- the fat kid affectionately referred to it as HIS spoils of war. While I was happy with the results, they did not last. The fat kid tried a new approach. After the six week program was over, he began new subversive tactics. When I was busy and on the way home, he had me drive near the fast food restaurant strip in town. I rationalized. I failed.
In September of 2008, I re-entered the Air Force on active duty status. Meg and I packed up all of our belongings and headed half-way across the country. Our first time as a married couple. We left our comfort zones behind us. The fat kid decided to make the trip as well.
I signed into base and just a few short weeks later, I was put on a physical training exempt profile that would lead to surgery on the 18th of February. The fat kid began a new approach. Now he didn't make me crave sugar like a drug addict craves heroine, rather he made sure I was busy all day and hungry when I got home. Meg and I ate mostly healthy food, but I ate a profane amount.
Now, I am 205 pounds and have a 39.5 inch waist circumference, and he is winning the war.
Two days ago, my wife and I decided we needed a life style change. We need to eat right, more often, smaller portions and while I'm still not able to exercise to the fullest, I need to be trying to do the most that I can. What she doesn't know is that I want, no I need to get rid of the fat kid.
I have decided to murder him. He knows this and for the first time in my life, I can see the terror in his eyes. Our health, financial well being and happiness depend on me snuffing the bastard out.
This blog will be a documentary on how I will murder the fat kid and be rid of him once and for all.
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