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.
Heart that truly loves is a servant for another’s happiness and peace
Maybe it’s easier to do hard things when nobody says they’re difficult
Barbarians with evil ideas taking our entire culture off deadly cliff
Sometimes you’re not ready for a challenge, but you do it anyway
We project an image for others, but few see us as we really are
Why do presidents and candidates bother to release tax returns?
What happens if a vampire bites your neck? Vampire mythology tells us the victim can become a vampire, too.
Loss of everything you value can be a new beginning, not the end
Totalitarians want to seize your cash as the moral rot continues
‘Free money for everybody’? Is it smart for principled libertarians?