Jumbo the Elephant is a Fox

As a child I was overweight. I grew very fast and reached my full height by the age of twelve. Everyday of my life during the school year I was teased and sometimes ridiculed. I had very good friends in elementary school. They did not tease me because we were friends. However, kids on the bus, kids who were not my friends, and several boys teased me relentlessly. I never told my parents. Never. I used to feel so inadequate that I didn't want my parents to know. They were so good and gave us so much from the heart that I felt that they deserved a perfect daughter. I made up for my weight by working hard, studying, and getting good grades. Many times I cried at night because I knew what awaited me the next day. Yet, I loved school, loved my friends, and loved every teacher I ever had in elementary school. I loved school. I learned to hate my body.

As the summer began between my last year of elementary school and my first year of junior high, I asked my mom for a hula hoop. They were very popular then and I wanted to learn how to hula hoop. That summer I hula hooped for hours at a time. I lost all my baby fat and blossomed into a young lady. A young lady who still hated her body and all the imperfections that were glaringly obvious. When I returned to school my friends were stunned. (I lived in the country and did not see my friends over the summer.) But the remarks from the kids who had tormented me made me feel uncomfortable. One boy who had never called me by name, but always referred to me as "Jumbo" was very impressed. I still remember his comment to me that first day of school, "I can't call you Jumbo anymore. You are a fox." And then he asked if I wanted to "go together." (It was the early 70s after all.) I told him no. I was still extremely uncomfortable in my own skin.

I obsessed over my weight. As an older teen I rarely ate. My grandma was there in the mornings and she made me eat. But she would fix me one poached egg, one piece of dry toast, and a cup of tea with saccarine (again, the 70s), But I never ate lunch and because of band practice and various clubs, could get out of the house without mom knowing I hadn't eaten dinner. I existed on that small breakfast and a spoonful of peanut butter. Weekends were different and I ate more then. But still I felt fat. I was not as good as my thin friends. They were prettier, looked better in their clothes, and they were more confident. I hated my body. I still hate my body.

So now here I am. I understand that I will probably never accept my body. However, I must accept that I am a good person. I may not look good in designer clothes, but my heart is in the right place. My attitude is adjusting. I am worth the effort to get healthier and thinner. I am worth it. I am worth it. I am worth it. If I say it often enough, maybe at some point I will believe it.