COLUMN: Chronicles of a fat kid

Hi, my name is Seth, and I am fat.

Hi Seth. We’re fat too, welcome to the fraternity. The first step is admitting you have a problem.

And then I woke up. There’s no Fat Kids Anonymous, as much as I wish there was. But I think it would be a good thing for us heavier people. It’s true, I am overweight. I admit it. I’ve been on the heavier side most of my life.

Being fat has been a struggle. No, I’m not asking for your pity or empathy – since I’m sure none of you would want to sympathize with me. But I’ve learned many life lessons from being a fat kid, which I will share with you in what I term the Fat Kid Chronicles.

Being a fat kid in elementary school is just asking for trouble. It’s like walking around with a big target on your back that says, “Kick me, I’m fat. Make way, wide load coming through.” What made things worse was I was fat, bad at sports, wore glasses and was smart – at least that’s what my teachers told me, although they kept calling me Alec for some reason.

That’s a combination for a solid elementary school career worth of wedgies and swirlies. The only thing that made me feel safe was knowing I was probably too heavy for any number of kids to pick me up to dunk me in the toilet bowl.

My teachers and parents didn’t make it any easier for me. Instead of just confronting the fact that I was fat, they had to come up with more politically correct terms, such as: pleasantly plump, you’re just big boned, you’re hefty, you’re just a little chubby, and my least favorite of all, you’re just husky. What the heck does that mean? Am I some sort of Alaskan dog pulling some rich man’s sled? I was even more traumatized when I learned there’s a line of hefty-size pants. Yep, I wore those.

Getting called fat in these so-called nice ways probably made the teachers feel better – and covered their butts legally – but it just gave my fellow classmates plenty of ammo to use against me. Their favorite things to do included poking my bellybutton and hoping I would go, “Wahoo!” like the Pillsbury dough boy, or calling me, “Hey fatty.”

Sticks and stones right? But what did hurt was dodgeball. This sport is a fat kid’s worst nightmare. The target you already have on you suddenly becomes intensified, and I’m pretty sure my stomach lit up neon orange to help the other team find me easier – not that they need much assistance. There was twice as much of me to hit, and in dodgeball, the goal isn’t to win, it’s to hit the fat kid. It may not count any more than hitting another person, but it’s a matter of pride. I’m pretty sure the person who hits the fat kid the most in first grade has an automatic bid to become the football team captain in high school.

But through all this misery, I learned some important things. First off, you have to be comfortable in your own skin. Contrary to popular belief, being overweight is not the plague, and no, you will not instantly gain 30 pounds by talking to someone overweight. Second, you may not be the most attractive person in the world, but you can make up for that in wit or charm. I’m still waiting for that to kick in.

Have you ever noticed fat people are generally happy, funny people? Think about it, Chris Farley, John Candy, John Goodman, Rosie O’Donnell (scratch that) and, of course, Buddha and Santa Claus. The jolly old St. Nick probably eats a few thousand cookies on Christmas Eve, but you don’t see anyone attacking him, and he’s happy as can be. Although, I hear some people are trying to slim Santa down by feeding him carrots and celery. All I have to say is shame on you.

It’s OK to make fun of fat people the whole year round, but ever notice how around Christmas time people indulge in all the fat-kid Olympic games: pounding confectionary goodies, overeating and making vague promises they’ll exercise later?

As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized overweight people get treated differently. Take going out to eat for example. If I order a salad, people look at me like, “Come on, get real. How dare you act like you’re going to eat all responsibly.” Skinny people would rather see an overweight person eat a full-on buffet – which, believe me, we would rather do too – than eat a salad.

Also, going grocery shopping is no fun for a fat kid – it’s like a chunky Mecca of temptation. I have developed some self control, but I like to reward myself for going by getting a candy bar. As I put the candy bar on the conveyor belt, I can practically hear what the clerk is thinking: “This kid is so huge. Hasn’t he had enough candy bars? He wouldn’t be this big if he’d lay off the Twix.”

Skinny people sure don’t give us fat people any motivation to improve either. They act like being overweight is some epidemic that will destroy the world one Oreo at a time. They punish us for being fat. My gym teachers would use exercise as a punishment. Any wonder I have a hard time exercising now?

And whenever an overweight person goes to the gym, the place goes silent. People stop exercising and stare at me as if I’ve violated some sort of law that states: Only those who are attractive and currently fit are allowed to use exercise equipment. These skinny people just laugh when I hop on a treadmill or run a few laps on the track, thinking to themselves, “Just give it up. Who are you trying to kid?”

Luckily, I’ve made it through life only partially emotionally scarred (and physically scarred, the stretch marks are healing) and have been able to deal with being fat. I even exercise consistently and am eating healthy these days. Though I haven’t seen many results yet, I know I’m doing my best. And in that sense, I’m sort of a motivational hero, you could say.

But, until I get endorsements from Nike and Gold’s Gym, I’ll just have to settle for being a walking, or waddling, proof of the dangers of trans fat.

Seth Hawkins is a senior majoring in public relations. He has a hard time sleeping at night because his body has made a divot in the bed that causes his wife to roll up against him. Questions and comments can be sent by way of clogged arteries to seth.h@aggiemail.usu.edu