Hi, my name's Georgina, and I'm fat.

I've been fat my entire life. I came into this world weighing a whopping twelve pounds. I slimmed down once I started walking, but by the time I was in third grade, I was fat again. My clothes came from the husky section of Sears or Penny's. 

I remember my godmother telling my mom that she should really do something about my weight. I remember my mom putting me on a diet, but it only lasted a few days. 

I was signed up for kid's nutrition classes as a kid. I would even walk to them on my own. I remember hating PE, especially when I had to do sit ups because I couldn't even do one. There was that one time in sixth grade where that kid counted them anyway. When he told Coach I'd done 30, she didn't even question him. I still wonder why he did that. 

I remember going to a doctor, when I was in 7th grade, who told me that if I kept going the way I was, I wouldn't be able to walk through the door when I turned 18. Then, as I was walking out, he and his fat wife were scarfing down a pizza. He was also fat. 

After said visit, I took up biking. I would ride my bike against the wind and uphill in hopes of getting him to shut his mouth. I dreaded going to the doctor after that. In fact, I went to see him once more until I was able to convince my mom to take me back to the clinic where I took the nutrition classes.

Sometime in high school, I went to see a nutritionist. She taught me a lot about eating healthy and exercising. I kept up with the plan for her sake. That didn't last long. 

After high school, I really got into fitness. At first, it was because I thought it would gain me male attention. Then, it became a kind of obsession. I started working out--walking and Tae Bo. Then, my mom convinced me to join a gym. The gym membership came with a few sessions with a trainer. I learned a little bit about weight lifting. My obsession grew. I stopped eating full meals, limiting my intake to a PB & J sandwich and an orange a day. I worked out five to six days a week. I had 1,200 calorie days and 800 calorie days which meant I couldn't move on from cardio until I burnt that number of calories. 

During my gym days, I could bench 65 lbs, leg press 260 lbs, calf raise 300 lbs...I felt like a bad ass. I would run, stair climb, bike, row. I remember one day, one of the trainers came by while I was on the stair climber after some time on the treadmill and said, "Wow, you're really fit." I went five minutes longer that day.

And yet, the smallest I ever got to was 190 lbs, a size 16. That's still 50 lbs overweight according to the BMI chart. 

I ended up getting sick--gallbladder. It screwed everything up. Also, I got a full time job which didn't allow me to work out as much. Then, I moved away for college which caused some weight gain. And when I started teaching, I got fat again. 

Throughout all of this, I was never comfortable in my own skin. Even when I was my thinnest, I would pull and prod at my belly thinking if only I could lose x more pounds. Why? Because I was so trained to think that fat=bad.

Now, I'm 36. I'm 5'8" and I weight 278 lbs. And you know what? I don't care. As long as my doc is good with my lab work, I don't fret about the number on the scale. 

These days, I eat better because it makes me feel good. I exercise because I like feeling agile. I wear clothes that I think look good on me and make me feel confident. So, if someone doesn't like my fat body, they can look elsewhere.


Year Eleven: The Year of the Marigold

Today marks the end of my eleventh year teaching. If you had told me during my first year that I would still be teaching after eleven years, I don’t know that I would have believed you.


Coming to Terms

I was looking through an old journal a few weeks ago and came across this:


The Trendsetter

The end of 6th grade saw the demise of what had been normal life for me. By the time the start of 7th grade rolled around, I had a dad who didn’t drink and took my mom and I out to dinner a few time a week, a sister in college, a brother in the army, and another brother with a stable, well-paying job. It was weird. I, instead of being happy about this, hit a funk. In fact, had I talked about this with a medical professional, they may have diagnosed me with depression.


The Musicians

In middle school, I signed up for band. I guess it must have been in sixth grade. I was inspired by the intro to The Simpsons when Lisa improvises a solo and is promptly asked to leave the room. I wanted more than anything to play the saxophone. I've always had an affinity for smart girls who do things out of the ordinary and have always tried to be such a girl. But thanks to the popularity of The Simpsons, I was assigned the trumpet.


Three Tales

I've spent the last 24 hours grading essays. Each time I read a particulary bad one, I have been inspired to write a better version with my own experiences. I don't know if I will use them in class. But I thought I would share here, for you Jennifer.


Tracie Tales

I fell off the wagon last week. Funny thing is, I already had this ready to go, but I just didn't get a chance to upload since I wasn't really around a computer. I will owe a second post this week. 

The prompt was:

Find a person or moment in your previous writing and expand it.

If you were a fan Gabriel Iglesias from the beginning, you might know the name Felipe Esparza. He’s one of the guys with Iglesias in that story he tells about getting pulled over on their way to Vegas during the Hot and Fluffy Comedy Central special. Yeah, I’m a bit of a fan.

Anyway, Felipe Esparza is the spitting image of Tracie. Well, minus the facial hair. She also had this slur due to some dental issues caused by a car accident she was in as a kid. She dressed like a straight up Chola because well, she was one. She also wasn’t very nice.