Fat Dragons are Easy Prey, Chapter 1

“An adventure in which I discover that I’m fat, battle it for twenty years, and emerge a dragon slayer.”

I didn’t realize I was fat until my younger brother started training for the Olympics. Acro Gymastics was being considered for an official Olympic sport and my brother’s team was one the top four in the United States. They were at the gym training to compete later in the year for an exhibition spot. I went with my mom to pick him up.

Mom held my hand as we walked up the concrete path into the stuffy gym. Blue mats lined the floor. In the center of the room, three incredibly fit men were throwing my brother high into the air where he would do daring flips, twists, and twirls before landing gracefully on their strong arms. They were positioned in a triangle, facing each other, arms all in the center acting like a spring which shot my brother back into the air for another aerial maneuver. I was mesmerized. I was ten.

Looking down, I saw the fat rolls hanging over my belt. For the first time in my life I understood that I was fat. The realization left in me a strange state: I wasn’t angry or ashamed; I wasn’t disappointed. It was simply the shock of a brand new realization.

I looked back up as my brother and the Acro team formed a human pyramid. Whereas before I had just seen a thrilling spectacle, now I noticed every man’s muscle, every line, every strong movement, and how lithe my little brother was as they shot him up into the air again.

It occurred to me that I was the opposite of that. Nobody would be throwing me up into the air and neither would I be heaving anybody above my head and catching them again. My brain filed this away.

We went out for ice cream. I probably had Butter Pecan: my favorite from Thrifty’s.

Later that week, after watching the daily episode of Robotech, I turned the TV off and went out to my favorite spot on the hill behind my house. Beneath a large set of shrubs and rocks overlooking the brown valley below, I first asked myself why I was fat. I wondered if I always would be fat.

As an adult I’ve talked to a number of overweight people through the years and some of them are comfortable with being fat. In fact, some are downright sure fat is exactly how they are supposed to be and have no desire to be otherwise. I don’t know if they were being truthful with me or with themselves, but as a kid, holed up in my spot, I knew that I was not supposed to be fat.

I knew that my body was wrong and I had no idea how to fix it. This was perhaps the last innocent moment my fat and I had. Up to this point, our relationship had been cordial. But now, I wanted it to go. Fat, of course, wanted to stay, and it was a friendly rivalry because I didn’t yet know what the world thinks of fat people. I only knew what I thought of myself.

My brother got injured later in the year. Fortunately it wasn’t serious but it kept him out of the Olympics and eventually got him out of gymnastics. For a time, this also called a cease fire to my battle with fat.

Then I went to high school.