madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- May 31, 2001 It seems that when I considered starting a journal, I had so much to say! Now I feel a little quiet (as a mouse)! I guess today I'll start by sharing some memories of my childhood as a fat girl. THE HOSPITAL I never realized how difficult it would be to recall certain instances in which my weight caused me pain. Because I know from living my everyday life, that I'm constantly aware of my limitations from my size. But as I try to remember specific incidents, my head becomes cloudy, muddled. Why?
I guess that's how pain is after time passes. It becomes muted, dulled even. Time is the eraser that wipes the slate clean so we can experience more and new types of pain. So we can learn our life lessons. I do remember some things as a child. I remember going to a hospital in Rapid City, SD to find out what was "wrong" with me. Why was I gaining weight even when my mother packed my lunch with 1 serving of chips, a half of a sandwich, and a piece of fruit? The doctors took blood, did a cat scan, ran tests and I remember having to stay there for days. I felt sick, even though I wasn't. They gave me diet hospital food and I scoffed at the broth & jello. I remember Dad telling me to stop acting like I was sick, when I was healthy. I didn't want to be there. The view from my bed was a small hill with a dinosaur park sitting atop. How strange to see the long neck of the brontosaurus rising above the curve of the hill in the sunset. How lonely and out of place they looked there above the lights of the city. I made my parents promise to take me up there when I got out. I wanted to look down at the hospital, as the dinosaurs had looked down at me. The doctors were stumped. My thyroid was a bit off, but within normal ranges. Everything else came out fine, and they didn't understand why I was gaining weight so rapidly. My little voice inside me reminded me that I should tell the doctors what I knew. I knew that most days after finishing the lunch my mom packed me, I'd walk up & down the tables in the lunch room asking kids for their dessert, their bread, their milk. But what I really wanted was the main course, whatever that was. Macaroni & cheese, meatloaf & potatoes, hamburgers, pizza - these were the real treasures. Then I'd move onto the kids with the brown bag lunches, scanning for leftovers. Most kids didn't mind handing over a baggie with a half a sandwich or a few chips that they were going to throw away anyway. I never bullied anyone, they always gave willingly. Yet I was like a vulture, circling the crowd, waiting for the right moment and then going in for the kill. One day I asked a quiet girl named Tina for her chips. She was always a good bet, dutifully handing over something nearly every day. She was very thin and seldom ate everything in her lunch box. Most days she'd see me coming and just hand me the reminder of her sandwich, or leftover cookies. Today she saw me walking towards her and shifted uneasily in her seat, with her head down. "Are you going to eat that?" I said, pointing to her half-empty bag of chips. She hesitated, which many of the kids often did, and I imagined she was contemplating whether or not she would finish them. I remember the look on her face when she lifted her chin and her eyes met mine. Her face was angry red, frustrated and her eyes seemed almost tearful. Then she surprised me by saying, "You know, every day you ask me for my lunch. Every single day. I always give you something because I feel bad for you & the way your mom puts you on diets. But look at you! You need to go on a diet! Kids here hate you asking for their lunch all the time! Just leave us all alone!". Then she threw her half-eaten bag of chips at me, grabbed her lunch box and ran outside to the playground. I heard another girl say "Yeah! Stop asking me too!". Others followed her, throwing their sandwich crusts, apple cores & leftover pudding cups at me as they walked out the door. I couldn't believe it. But looking back now, what I really can't believe is what I did next. I picked through the pile of scraps the kids had thrown at me, like a desperate junkie. After gathering what was salvageable, I headed off to the playground to eat, crying the whole time. 9:52 a.m. - May 31, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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