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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.

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It makes my heart feel full of joy when my friends are happy. Seeing happiness in a friend reminds me that life in this world can be incredibly joyful — and I need that reminder sometimes.

I just saw a man who I rarely see anymore and I got an update on his life. When I first met Josh six or eight years ago, he was a young man working as an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant. By coincidence, I had known of his father — although his father was older than I was — when I was in high school about 45 miles from here.

Nearly five years ago, Josh married a beautiful and sweet woman and I was happy about that. He worked his way up to the top of management at a very successful restaurant. He was making a nice living, but he was working too many hours. I assumed he would stay on that path.

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What happens if a vampire bites your neck? Vampire mythology tells us the victim can become a vampire, too.

What happens if a narcissist raises a child and programs him for life? Psychology tells us there’s a very good chance that child — once the victim — will grow up to be another narcissist and will victimize others.

I was bitten by a narcissist in my formative years — if you’ll forgive me for mixing metaphors — and I’ve spent the last 10 or 12 years trying to make sure I don’t become a narcissistic vampire myself.

I’ve been terrified to realize how close I came to becoming what I most feared.

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