(This is the first installment in my Flashback series I’ve been wanting to work on. Some will be harder to write than others, but all are true accounts of parts of my life that I hope allow you to learn more about me, my past, and the struggles I’ve dealt with regarding my weight–and how that controlled my life. My journey didn’t start on 9/1/09 when my blog did…it’s been a long, winding road.)

August 25, 1993
Today is my first day at my new school and I can’t believe how good looking all the other kids in my class are. I feel so out of place. It’s my first day in the 8th grade and things sure are different here. I mean EVERYTHING is different. In my old school, I was popular. I knew everyone and they knew me. They accepted me. Here, I’m nothing. Of course, things were different at my old school. It was about one fourth the size of this new one. Everyone knew each other for the most part. This place is huge. Everyone seems so tan, so well built, so blonde. So…perfect. I thought people my age were supposed to be awkward? Sure, there are a good number of kids with braces, like me, but I feel like I’ve walked into a family reunion–someone else’s family. Back home, I was a big deal. Here, I’m just big.

August 27, 1993
Day 3 at the new school. After a few days of scoping the place out, I’m still not digging it. I’m by far the biggest kid in my class, perhaps the whole school. It’s hard to say that for sure since I haven’t seen every kid yet, but based on the looks I get while walking down the hall, I’m quite the sight. I haven’t weighed in a while, but I know I’m big. Real big. I don’t need a scale to tell me that. The eyes of my classmates tell the whole story.

September 15, 1993
Sorry I haven’t written in my journal much lately. I’ve been very depressed. My new school sucks so bad. The teachers and classes are great, a big improvement over my old one, but I have no friends and the other kids here are really mean. Last week, some people in the lunchroom were oinking at me, like a pig. Just writing that sounds so hard to believe. I asked them if they were in 3rd grade, but that just made them laugh harder so I just walked away. I’m so tired of seeing people laugh and point, or just stare at me. After the incident in the cafeteria, I started eating my lunch in a quiet area outside, alone. I usually have a coke and a Snickers bar, so it’s just as easy to eat it there. And much more quiet. None of these idiots to put up with. Today I had two Snickers bars…it was the highlight of a crappy day.

September 18, 1993
I hate it here. Today, a girl in class kept reaching over and pinching me in my side. I heard her calling it my “jelly rolls” to her friend. That’s original. They laughed the entire class, and I know some people sitting around us could hear them. I told her to stop, but she didn’t. Instead, she started poking me trying to show her friend how I would jiggle. I kept waiting for the teacher to make her stop, but I guess he didn’t see. I don’t know what to do. Fight? A girl? But really, fight anyone? I’ve never been in a fight before-with anyone. Back home, there was never a need to fight. I made everyone laugh. I got along with everyone. Here it seems like everyone laughs at me, not with me. I know my parents moved here to get me a better education, but I feel like they’ve ruined my life.

September 19, 1993
I tried to sit in a different seat today, away from the poking girl, but it didn’t work out. This jock told me I was in his spot. So I was back to the seat I hate so much. There wasn’t any poking today, but I could hear them giggling during most of the class. Maybe I’m being paranoid. They can’t still find the fact that I’m overweight THAT funny. Last night, I wrote my mom a long letter asking if I could go back home and stay with my aunt. I could go back to my old school and old friends. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m so miserable here. Yesterday on the bus ride home, some of the guys from the high school were hassling me and one called me a “fatass.” The funny thing was, he wasn’t that skinny himself. I should have said that, but instead I just stared out the window. Writing in my journal is easier than standing up to them, and that makes me feel even worse because deep down, I know I should stand up to them. I talked with my cousin on the phone last night and he said as long as I let them bully me, they would. I know he’s right, but I don’t know if I can do anything about it. I was thinking about going on a diet this morning, but after the day I had when I got home I just ate a lot of junk food. It’s just not worth the effort.

September 30, 1993
Things are still bad here, if not worse. I still haven’t made any friends. A few people will say hello or ask about homework, but no conversation. How can someone as big as I am feel so invisible? I was eating my lunch outside the other day (coke and a candy bar) and some guys were hassling me about eating that at my size. I think I’ll just eat my lunch somewhere private. I could try the bathroom, but that just seems gross. If nothing else I’ll just wait till I get home and eat it with my afternoon ice cream. My mom and I had a long talk last week. She gave me a long speech about how moving here was for the best. She said my education was the most important thing. I know they mean well, but I’ve never been so unhappy. Going to school, riding the bus, facing these people is the worst thing I’ve been through. I’ve never felt so alone. I know that’s why I’m eating more and more, but that’s the only time I’m happy–at night when I’m eating and watching my TV shows. I talk to my Momo back home every night. I miss her so much. She’s been like my best friend because when I was really young, it seemed like I was always staying at her house. Every memory I have is at her house, watching TV and enjoying some good cooking. She’s always been a great listener, too. I love you, Momo.

October 25, 1993
The last month has been awful. The teasing on the bus is at an all time high. The guys from high school are worse than the ones in our building at middle school. A lot of kids in my class have their parents to take them to and from school, but with my parents working an hour away I don’t have that luxury. All I keep thinking about is how next year I will be in the high school building with these idiots. Are all the guys there like these assholes on my bus?
It seems lately all I think about is dying. It sounds crazy, but I’d rather die than live the life I’m in right now with all the teasing and mean people. I’ve thought about suicide, but I’m too chicken to actually do it. My dad has a gun, and it’s not locked up…but still, I could never actually do that. I just hope things get better soon because I don’t know how much more of this I can take…

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