What a lot of people don't know about me is that I was the fat kid growing up. "Bitch-Tits" was my middle name until my late teens. I was that kid who was rarely seen in a pool without a T-shirt on because frankly I didn't want any of the late bloomer girls to be jealous of the voluptuous rack I was packin'. Unfortunately, what would be appreciated for a girl, would not be okay for a young boy. What they don't tell you as a recovering fat kid, is that you can loose the weight. You can forget that kid Monica Gambinni who told on a daily basis for the entire durations of fourth, fifth and sixth grade to use a thigh-master. You could loose the weight, gain a vindictive side, but body-dysmorphia is for life.
Whoever said that food wasn't love, obviously was not Jewish, nor were they raised by Russian-Jews. Seeing the look of disappointment, sadness and gas-exhaustion (Enough with the cabbage already!) on a Russian woman's face when you've told her that you were full was reason enough to keep eating, so I did. Unlike other cultures, ours key events have always been marked by food. My relatives and numerous cousins often described the struggle of our people by the restaurants they complained about.
We, Russian-Jews eat at weddings, brisses, holidays, every event including funerals were marked by marvelous food. Jewish funerals, for those who haven't been are the only funerals in the world, where people will complain about the food sometimes more than the person in the casket. Jewish funerals are also are probably the one type of funeral where at least half of the guests will ask for doggy-bags.
I ate through much of my childhood and teen years. I ate all the way to the "husky" boy's section at Sears. For those who never had the sweet delight of being forced to shop in this section as children because they actually had visible ribs F-you. For those who did get to experience the joy of this department, finding a pare of jeans in this section that were not only too tight but had to be shortened, my sympathies.
As an adult I choose to be in good physical condition. My waist is about 5 inches smaller now than it was in high school. I workout with the same vigor I used to on a daily basis eat a half-gallon of ice cream, followed by an entire quiche (cause I was gay, even as a kids, it's a lifetime deal people) and bag of gummy bears while watching "Xuxa" and "Tale Spin." Now I just focus on the good stuff, a bottle of wine, followed by a pint of ice cream, a good cry and something on Lifetime, Television for Idiots.
The odd thing about loosing the weight is that I still have what I would consider "phantom weight." While I am aware of how people see me, I still often think they are looking at the rolls and tits from years past. These days I get an odd kick off of seeing on facebook kids who made fun of me for being fat and now the tables have turned.
The other day I went to Subway. As I was in line for my footlong of happiness, I realized that the large Asian tourists in front of me were filming me. By large, I mean that they were the largest Asians I had ever seen but I digress. I assumed that they were filming me cause they had never seen such a large American. They must have been focusing on the phantom fat. I then realized that it had been years since I was the fat kid from years past and realized that they must have been filming me because I was now famous in Asia! Maybe my mother wasn't the only one watching my comedy sets on YouTube! I started to get excited as I started eating one of my 2 for 99cent cookies while in line as the camera man seemed to be zooming into me. I then realized he was zooming into my chest. All of the Asian people in this Subway, including the ones working laughed and yapped about stuff that I couldn't understand while this was going on. That's when insecurities came in and I felt like "bitch-tits" from years past. As I left, I realized that they weren't filming me because I was famous, but because I had cookie crumbs all over my shirt and ate 6 inches of the footlong before I even got to the register. They probably hadn't seen someone like me who couldn't wait until they left to start eating. I know, I'm not sure where this story is going either.
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