With Baggage
From Sunday Scribblings, Prompt #16 is With Baggage.
Baggage. Even just the word by itself sounds so heavy.
Heavy. That’s what my baggage is. My weight. And all the negative feelings/emotions associated with it. The comments said years and years ago that I carry around in my head and in my heart.
Like the time my Dad called me a big fat sow. I was 15, and not fat. He was just mad that I was watching TV when there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Still- Big. Fat. Sow. Yeah, baggage.
Or that time when I was about 19 or 20 and was changing clothes when Mom was in the room. And she looked at me and said something to the effect that if I would just lose a few pounds, then XYZ (my boyfriend/pseudo-fiance at the time) would really have something. Because, obviously, I was nothing on my own merit. Baggage.
Or that time the same boyfriend ate all the candy out of a Valentine’s box and replaced it with rocks because I told him I didn’t want candy. And he gave it to me as a gift. The ONLY gift. Not even a card. Nothing else, just rocks. He thought it was a joke. I cried for 3 weeks. That was especially heavy baggage.
Or maybe when I found out recently that all this time since I graduated from college (about 15 years), that my Mother was convinced that the reason a friend of mine was hired by a particular accounting firm instead of me was because she was pretty AND thin. Not because her dad was best friends with the hiring partner or anything. Or the fact that she actually interned with them over the summer. Nope, had to be because I was fat. Baggage.
When that boyfriend dumped me, he said that the new girl was “bigger” than me. Okay. Nice to know. I lost about 40 pounds then. Was pretty “hot” even. A few months later, I was assaulted. Not in a good way. So, my weight once again caused me problems. Was it my fault? Was I advertising? I don’t think so. But I put the weight back on. At least the fat would protect me. And it did – for a lot of years – it protected me from other people. But it didn’t protect me from myself. Emotional baggage.
Maybe I remember times when I was dating (my now) husband, when we would go out, he would turn his back to me. Maybe he was just rude. Or maybe it was because I was fat and he was embarrassed for his friends to see him with someone like me. He, himself, has never really minded my fat. But looking back, it did affect the way he treated me when we were around other people. Baggage.
Today, my biggest fear is that my weight will embarrass my kids. They are too young right now, but within the next year or two, my son will start school. I had him pretty late (32) so I’ll already be an “older mom”. I really don’t want to be the fat mom too.
From my high point, (not counting being pregnant) I’ve lost about 35lbs. I have about 65 or 70 to go. I’m still on Weight Watchers. I’m counting points, and going to meetings, and smiling, and laughing, and cutting up.
When on the inside, I’m dying. Under the weight of my baggage.
Baggage. Even just the word by itself sounds so heavy.
Heavy. That’s what my baggage is. My weight. And all the negative feelings/emotions associated with it. The comments said years and years ago that I carry around in my head and in my heart.
Like the time my Dad called me a big fat sow. I was 15, and not fat. He was just mad that I was watching TV when there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Still- Big. Fat. Sow. Yeah, baggage.
Or that time when I was about 19 or 20 and was changing clothes when Mom was in the room. And she looked at me and said something to the effect that if I would just lose a few pounds, then XYZ (my boyfriend/pseudo-fiance at the time) would really have something. Because, obviously, I was nothing on my own merit. Baggage.
Or that time the same boyfriend ate all the candy out of a Valentine’s box and replaced it with rocks because I told him I didn’t want candy. And he gave it to me as a gift. The ONLY gift. Not even a card. Nothing else, just rocks. He thought it was a joke. I cried for 3 weeks. That was especially heavy baggage.
Or maybe when I found out recently that all this time since I graduated from college (about 15 years), that my Mother was convinced that the reason a friend of mine was hired by a particular accounting firm instead of me was because she was pretty AND thin. Not because her dad was best friends with the hiring partner or anything. Or the fact that she actually interned with them over the summer. Nope, had to be because I was fat. Baggage.
When that boyfriend dumped me, he said that the new girl was “bigger” than me. Okay. Nice to know. I lost about 40 pounds then. Was pretty “hot” even. A few months later, I was assaulted. Not in a good way. So, my weight once again caused me problems. Was it my fault? Was I advertising? I don’t think so. But I put the weight back on. At least the fat would protect me. And it did – for a lot of years – it protected me from other people. But it didn’t protect me from myself. Emotional baggage.
Maybe I remember times when I was dating (my now) husband, when we would go out, he would turn his back to me. Maybe he was just rude. Or maybe it was because I was fat and he was embarrassed for his friends to see him with someone like me. He, himself, has never really minded my fat. But looking back, it did affect the way he treated me when we were around other people. Baggage.
Today, my biggest fear is that my weight will embarrass my kids. They are too young right now, but within the next year or two, my son will start school. I had him pretty late (32) so I’ll already be an “older mom”. I really don’t want to be the fat mom too.
From my high point, (not counting being pregnant) I’ve lost about 35lbs. I have about 65 or 70 to go. I’m still on Weight Watchers. I’m counting points, and going to meetings, and smiling, and laughing, and cutting up.
When on the inside, I’m dying. Under the weight of my baggage.
posted by Kay at
9:05 AM
4 Comments:
it is funny(in a non ha ha sort of way) how some comments stick with you throughout your life. The only saving grace is that hopefully the good ones do as well. I guess it is kind of like dreams. If you were allowed to keep all your dreams and make them real would you do it? At first it seems like an easy answer till you remember the nightmares will have to be included as well. Anyways, nice post.
By
briliantdonkey, at 7/19/2006 6:05 PM
Beautiful post. I admire your honesty. I also like the poetry in the sentence rhythms.
By
Writer Bug, at 7/20/2006 6:30 AM
i've carried similar baggage for 20 years ... amazing honest post
By
~Kathryn~, at 7/20/2006 3:12 PM
I admire how honest you were in sharing your feelings. I wish I could have been that honest with this SS challenge and really wrote about the baggage I carry everyday.
And don't worry about thinking you're an older Mom because you definitely are NOT! :) All my friends had their children in their mid to late 30's. It's the new 20's and the norm now.
Good luck with WW!!
By
Anonymous, at 7/24/2006 9:31 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home