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.
Unhappiness can’t hide forever when life has gone very wrong
Libertarian freedom vs. conservative tradition leads to culture clash
This is why people are confused about what anarchists really are
Is it abuse to force atypical kids to conform to norms of society?
Confirmation bias means most of us assume our opponents are ‘morans’
After years of wasting my life, sands of time are slipping away
What happens if a vampire bites your neck? Vampire mythology tells us the victim can become a vampire, too.
Jesse Jackson Jr. demands Obama hire 15 million unemployed Americans
That huge fed debt increase? They’ve already used 60 percent of it
Is ‘majority rule’ moral even when the majority don’t want freedom?