My 500 Pound Life: Acceptance

Isn’t it funny how no one really accepts themselves the way they are? And I say funny because any of us can find something that looks or seems better on someone else, yet that someone else probably thinks the exact same thing about something on them.

My thing, is fat. And it’s funny to me how I am dying to be 300 pounds instead of 500 pounds, yet when I WAS 300 pounds, I hated myself for being so fat. I want to slap that guy and tell him to enjoy doing the fun things he can.

Today, on one of the breaks away from my computer that my computer told me to take, I walked down 5 flights of stairs. If you read this post you’ll understand why that meant so much to me. And you’ll understand why I want to continue doing that on a regular basis. It was much easier than I thought it’d be though I think I’d need to sit down before walking the other block or two to our meeting point but I felt good about it. A small victory in a sea of broken dreams.

And I don’t say it to seek favor or adoration or ‘attaboys’ because this blog, like anything I write, is really more for me than about me. But I also don’t say it for that because yesterday I realized something as I scrolled through a few forums of people in my position.

I am not depressed.

This is saying a lot since I have been bi-polar all my life and depressed for most of it. I’m not on medication or anything I just have the Spirit of Joy flowing through me. My weight and position in life saddens me and walking around and moving brings me physical pain, but I am joyous through any sorrow. It’s a nice place to be.

Another thing that came up yesterday came from comments on this blog when I said, “You can’t be a story of inspiration without first being a story of struggle and pain.” It’s an interesting point yet leads to more thought about acceptance.

I used to think it was weird that I was so comfortable being friends with “disabled” people when others would shy away. Besides my brother having CP some of my best friends have been disabled.

One girl, who is no longer with us now, was a dear friend and she wanted so much to be accepted and to have friends. Stuck in a motorless wheelchair with no vehicle to drive and no one who would lug her around town she just wanted to get out and do things. I wish I had been stronger and able to take her more places but she was often ok with just a drive.

One time we were in a restaurant enjoying dinner and having a conversation and generally joking around when I whispered to her, “You should go act like you’re trying to get out the door but just keep running your chair into it. And when someone comes up and offers to help just look up at them sad eyed and say, ‘no thanks, I’m handi-capable.”

You may think I was being mean. She thought it was hilarious and added to it saying I should then come up behind her and act impatient. For us, the only problem with this story was that we didn’t actually act it out.

So what made a rather dark conversation like that with someone unable to walk a fun one? Acceptance. We were friends and we were just talking and having fun. I treated her the way I treat everyone and let me tell you, if I am picking on you, you know I accept you as a friend. Of course, any good joke is about timing. If people, random strangers had been picking on her and I jumped in with them, that would have been hurtful.

So how do I know all this just, seemingly, instinctively. It is now I realize partly because I really am disabled. I know most people wouldn’t see it that way, they’d just say ‘eat less exercise more’ as though I may have never heard such words of wisdom before. And I know that I didn’t used to see it that way. I have never wanted to get a handicap sticker, even though I could, nor have I thought of getting on Social Security. There are people in real need, even though at times, I was those people.

Of course the difference is I really can lose weight where as my friend who is paraplegic is not going to lose his paraplegicness anytime soon. Of course, he’d just cheer me on, not hold it against me. And he’d understand if I failed and wound up right back where I am. Isn’t it funny the most accepting people are the ones who have been accepted the least number of times.


I have had some low moments in my life. Though the lowest I’ve really never told anyone so it’s weird I will tell the world all at once.

After my nana died and I got bigger and bigger, before I finished Jr High, I had fewer and fewer friends. Which is to say I went from 2, to 1 at times, and less at others. I hated everyone who had anyone to talk to. I hated all the comments that were ‘whispered’ as I walked by or went to sit by myself. I wore dark clothing because it was all I felt comfortable in and, to be honest, it seemed to be expected of me. I was an outcast of outcasts. The outcasts wouldn’t be caught anywhere near me for fear of hurting their lack of reputation.

I also had a dad who didn’t know how to handle me. Nana had been the core of the family, now he and I were just kind of existing together. I had what any kid could want, a huge allowance. He would give me 200 dollars a month to do whatever I wanted. He would also buy me other things as well but I never did things with the allowance I now wish I had.

And I don’t mean saving it but really after I finally had friends and saw that younger people with big allowances bought nice stereos for their cars and other fancy stuff, I never wanted that when I had it. I wanted friends.

So, once a week I would stand outside at recess and hand out money. I would make it a game and say answer this question or do this or that and then give the kids what I had on me. The most I ever had on me was 50 dollars and I gave it all away to be surrounded by kids, to be the center of attention, for just a few minutes.

I like to think I’m not like that anymore. I mean, I don’t go handing out cash to people on the street so they’ll talk to me. Yet if something comes up and I feel like I may have said something offensive to an acquaintance, my first instinct is to get them a gift or ask them if I can get them anything.

Some people want things, I just want friends.


6 thoughts on “My 500 Pound Life: Acceptance

  1. kyred

    You just almost made me cry. You may not be looking for a pat on the back for making it down that 5 flights of stairs, but yanno, I’m a mom and a social worker so I’m a pretty fair cheerleader. Congratulations!!! Before you know it, you’ll be making it to that meeting point with no trouble at all.

    1. Good Geek Ranting Post author

      Actually I walked down to the first floor again after lunch and realized it was actually 6 stories because the first floor is two stories tall (with a gorgeous lobby), so I actually walked down 12 flights today and yeah actually I was pretty happy with that though my legs are less than. And thanks, I really appreciate though i’m sorry I almost made you cry.

      1. kyred

        You go!! 12 flights in one day is a pretty impressive accomplishment. Do be cautious though, I’m told that going down stairs can be tough on the knees. IDK, it doesn’t seem to bother me, I always take the stairs down if it’s a choice, and up if it’s 3 flights or less. But I did have a co-worker who needed a knee replacement, and she said going down the stairs was the worst. So just be careful not to overdo. 🙂


You got something to say? Let's hear it!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s