Loving Charlie

Age 5

It started at a really young age.

The self-loathing started the first time I was called fat.

I remember not understanding what fat meant. Did it mean something bad? I was really young and one of my brothers was upset with me. He cursed a lot and nothing he said really affected me like it did that day.

He would call me a lot of things. But that day he called me fat.

"Move! God, you're so fat!." As he shoved me away I stood frozen with his words.

I was playing with the kids in our neighborhood when he shouted that at me.

Deep down I knew what being fat meant. I knew that I was different then most girls and boys my age. I knew that I was bigger, heavier.

But that day the word "fat" stuck to me.

To me, fat wasn't an adjective anymore. It was something different. It was a definition. I was fat. I would always be fat.

Fat.
Fat.
Fat.

Being fat was ugly.

I was ugly.
——————
I remember it was a hot day. I was wearing a furry jacket for the morning breeze and was reluctant to take it off.

Under my jacket, I was wearing a tank top. I never wore tank tops without something over it, so when recess began and my peers played happily to themselves, dread filled me.

It was so hot. Everyone was wearing something comfortable and appropriate for the weather.

Why didn't I take my jacket off?

Other girls had tank tops on.

As I stared at the girls I realized something.

They were thin. They had skinny arms and flat tummies.

And I didn't.

I couldn't take off my jacket. They would see the curve on my stomach and they could see my thick arms.

As sweat poured down my face, a teacher approached me.

"Sweetheart take it off. Here, let me help you."

Her hand pulled on my zipper and I fought her off with a sudden panic.

"No!"

Brushing off the bangs on my forehead, I pulled the zipper back up.

"I'm not hot. I don't want to take it off."

I tried to play it cool. But, I knew my teacher was not buying it. She frowned at me and walked into the classroom opening the door and motioning me in.

As I stepped inside relief filled my body. Cool air welcomed me in and I could already feel my body relax.

"Let's just stay inside, recess is almost over and I don't want you passing out."

I could feel my cheeks cool down as I nodded still recovering from the heatwave.

Soon everyone started coming back in. Everyone was chatting away happy about recess, as I stared down at my desk.

I really hated my body.

On our free time, the teacher took out colors and told us to draw what we wanted to be when we grew up. With my yellow pencil box out, I started drawing an older version of myself.

A thinner version.

"Can you scoot your chair in. I can't fit."

I turned to a toothless Betty as she frowned down at me. She tried pushing my chair and whined as I sat there unmoving.

"You're taking too much space! Don't you fit?"
Her blue eyes narrowed and her blonde eyebrows lifted in question.

I couldn't speak. What would I tell her?

Sorry, Betty, I'm too fat that pushing my chair in will squeeze my belly.

"You could go around ya know." Another voice caught my attention and I turned to see a boy. He had marker stains on his cheeks and multiple makers gripped in both hands.

"She doesn't have to scoot in, Betty. Ms. Raven said we can't get out of our seats." He looked at her annoyed and scratched his nose causing the markers to run down his cheek again.

Betty rolled her eyes at the boy and put a hand on her hip. For a first grader, she sure was dramatic.

"No one is talking to you, Charlie. I didn't even say, Charlie T!"

Betty squeezed behind me and sped off to the supply box.

"Don't listen to her. You can take up all the space you want." Charlie smiled and turned back to the coloring his picture. It looked like some kind of robot.

I know he said it to make me feel better.

But It didn't.

And I knew it would take a lot to make me feel better. Maybe I would never feel better.