My mom likes to tell people that when I was a newborn, I was so tiny that she’d tuck me into a shoe box inside an open drawer to nap. I was her third and final baby born and I “slid right out.”
 
As a small child, I was a shit of a kid wanting nothing to do with baby dolls and girly stuff and everything to do with soccer and boy stuff. I didn’t watch a lot of TV; instead, I was always outside playing with friends. But then my parents split when I was 9 and absolutely everything changed. I didn’t know what was going on because nobody explained anything—they just told me what to do and I did it. Like go to three different grammar schools and four different high schools. As a result, I had no friends.
 
No friends but food.
 
I’ve recently lost nearly 20 pounds of this bullshit fat, but nobody can notice. Twenty pounds is nothing to sneeze at but nobody can tell I’ve lost it because I have so much more to lose. It’s disgusting, really. And sad.
 
I try so hard not to dwell on how much more I need to lose to be closer to an average size. Instead, I try to focus on the fact that I feel really great right now: My energy is up, I sleep better at night, I’m more active with my Lovie when it’s not 100 degrees out. But then something like yesterday happens and I get slammed into the reality of it all: I’m morbidly obese.
 
I got certified in CPR yesterday afternoon.
 
When it came time to kneel on the floor in front of our victim (a dummy) to check for signs of life and/or perform CPR, I knelt just fine. Yeah it wasn’t comfortable to kneel but it wasn’t comfortable for any of us. When it came time to join our hands together to perform chest pumps, I did just fine. When it came time to lean in to the victim to check for air, I nearly fell over. Literally. And when it came time to breathe into my victim, I simply couldn’t do it.
 
I couldn’t bend over enough to give my unconscious victim mouth to mouth resuscitation. My huge boobs and big fat belly stopped me from bending over enough. I tried with all my might to force the fat to move, but it wouldn’t budge and I couldn’t pinch the victims nose and breathe into its mouth at the same time.
 
WHAT IF THAT WERE MY CHILD ON THE FLOOR?!?

I could feel my face get hot and refused to look up from my dummy.
 
While I’ve been fat most of my life, I’ve never been one to let it define me. It’s a part of who I am, yes, but it’s not all of who I am… until a moment pops up when shame seeps inside of me and takes over.