I still remember the first time my father called me “fat.”
I was 9 years old. He and I were standing in the driveway of our home in Meridian, Miss. In just a couple of months, we would move yet again — to Anniston, Ala., this time.
He poked his finger into my little chest as we stood there. I don’t remember his exact words, but I remember being very confused at his anger. Nobody had ever said a word about my weight before. I seemed to be about the same proportions as all my friends, although I was slightly taller and was built bigger than they were. But my father angrily told me I had to start running — so I wouldn’t be fat.
I felt very ashamed of myself.
Not only did this mean I must look terribly ugly to everybody, but I had obviously disappointed my father. More than anything else, I wanted his approval — and I couldn’t ever seem to do enough. Or be enough.
Politicians, empires come and go; only love and nature will endure
We can’t trade away gun rights and believe it’ll give kids perfect safety
Reality frequently doesn’t match fantasy when you know full story
What’s the point of a secret crush if heart isn’t ready to accept love?
What happens if a vampire bites your neck? Vampire mythology tells us the victim can become a vampire, too.
It might not matter who’s right; just fix the problem and move on
UPDATE: Judge drops charges against Diane Tran; $100,000 raised
We’re great at making big plans, but God laughs at our intentions