Stories, Poetry and Other Thoughts

Poetry and Other Musings....
From time to time I will come across writings that really struck a deep
cord within me and I will add them here.  The first writing "My Best Friend, Food"
was written by me when I was in the middle of struggling to stop the binging yet again....

My Best Friend, Food
By Debbie K.

My best friend has been with me since the time I was a small child and had
to sneak into the pantry late at night and steal to satisfy this deep hole
inside my soul.

My best friend fills the deepest, darkest needs that my body has, that my
soul craves - to be filled up with something - anything.
My best friend will never desert me or reject me.

My best friend stayed with me when my mother beat me and when my son died.
My best friend allowed me the freedom to lean on her more and more as I
needed her and never once complained.

My best friend hid me deep within myself where nobody else could find me.
She protected me and guided me safely through life.

My best friend is always a quiet listener and never asks for anything in
return. My best friend always calls to me and wants to help me through all
of my struggles, pains and fear.

My best friend loves to celebrate with me when something good happens in my
life. She is always standing ready anytime, day or night when I need her.
She is never petty or jealous. She never hates me because I may not need
her that day, but is always standing ready when she is needed once again
without anger or resentment.

I have needed my best friend less and less this past year, but sometimes
the pain, anger, resentment and fear builds to such a height, I have to go
running to her once again and lay my head against her bosom and ask her to
take care of me once again. She is always happy to oblige.

Somehow I have to tell her that I don't need her anymore. Not ever again.
That somehow I have to find a new life without her, that she can only be
there for me as something to help me live, not something to live for. I'm
afraid of being without her, but I know it's the best for me.

I think she will understand, but the fear is that she will never really go
away. That she will stay there, always lurking in the shadows, waiting for
my weaknesses to bring me back to her once again. The even bigger fear is
that she will really go away forever. For now I put her away...and build
the hope that the next time I need her, she will be less and less an
obstacle to life - so I can live.

From Ann-Marie
This was written by a friend of mine from my online support list, OSSG.
Reprinted here with permission from the author

In support of those in whose shoes I once walked......

I've spent most of my adult life severely overweight......I topped out at 344 lbs. in 1997. I have fought the obesity monster for forty-two and a half of my forty-three years. I, and countless others like me, do not live on "junk food goodies". In fact, I would venture to guess that a lot of us eat healthier foods than the rest of the population, and many worldwide studies have shown that a great number of us in the morbidly obese category have genetic metabolic abnormalities that cause us to hang on to every calorie we take in. If you could walk in my shoes, you would realize just what kind of a gut-wrenching, heartbreaking experience it is to be a part of a group that is looked upon as targets for the last acceptable prejudice.

We are laughed at, poked fun at, insulted and looked upon as having a character flaw instead of a disease that deserves compassionate and humane treatment. Even our doctors and health care professionals feel that it's their right to degrade us.......after all, we have no self-control. We are seen as lazy slobs who are less intelligent than the rest of the population. God forbid we should appear to have any talent! Where did that come from? (I once had a sales rep tell me that my dolls were marketable, but that I, in my grossly overweight body, wasn't........can you imagine how that felt?? Probably not......unless you've been there.)

Don't get me going on this one.......I could burn up a few thousand pages and reduce you to tears.

Don't continue to promote the myth that fat people are second class citizens who are a great target for insults and abuse. Don't perpetuate the ongoing psychological garbage that the overweight must endure from the rest of humanity, who think it is their personal right to tell us that we're not as worthy of living on this planet as the rest of the world. Put your own sensitivity on those scales.

And, just for the sake of interest.......I am not having a pity party here. I found my answer several years ago and if you took a look at me, you'd probably never assume that I had a fat day in my entire life. I wear size 10.

From Lisa Marie Kelly
This was written by a friend of mine from the on-line support list, OSSG
It has been reprinted here with permission

To Kenneth & the other members of the OSSG In your post you mentioned your distress at seeing the number 565 when you were weighed at the doctor. I would urge you and anyone else that feels this same distress to please read this post because this wild woman of the South is about to preach up in here today.

Brethren & Sisters, we as people are not defined by a number. There is no number on the face of this earth that can define who we are, what we are or the person we are to other people. It is nothing but a measure, a mark, a

point of reference of where you are at on a scale. Life and living are not things that you can weigh and measure by the scales of time or the scales of weight measurement. Life is measured by the people you touch, the hearts

that you reach out to, the friends you have, the love you have given to others, the days you have enjoyed upon this planet. I don't know what faith you all are from but I truly do not believe that when this life is over someone is going to meet us on the other side and ask us how much we weighed. That is not the measure of a person. They are not going to say did you please everyone else on the earth. That is not a measure of a person. They will not ask how tall you were, why in the world would they ask how much you weighed and did you please everyone else. Yes, I am also having WLS not because I am ashamed of how much I weigh, because I'm not. I realize that I am a good person worthy of love and that I am blessed with a new day each and every day. Somewhere, in this great big world, someone went to bed last night and they didn't wake up this morning. Somewhere a child starved to death. Someone was murdered. Someone died by their own hand. They were not remembered by others as a number, they were remembered as a human being, a heart, a soul, a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, a son or a daughter. Part of them lived on though in the love they left behind. Nobody remembered to ask them, what was your number. Numbers were given to Jews in concentration camps. It is only during the greatest holocaust of humanity that people were known for their number.

Kenneth and anyone else that this touches, do not let a number define who you are. No matter if you weigh 150 pounds, 450 pounds, 750 pounds or 1050 pounds, you matter to people. There are people who love you. In some way you are touching someone's life. At some point in all of our lives, we are someone's angel whether we know it or not. If you want to have this surgery, do it because you want better health. You want another day to live, another day to make a difference, another day to embrace life with all you are and rejoice in the very idea of living, breathing and watching the sun upon your face or the wind touch your hair. Stand up and know that you are not a number because there is no number large enough, long enough, strong enough or descriptive enough to define who you are. Only you can do that.

Lisa Marie Kelly
Nashville, TN
Pre-op/April 6th
340 pounds/54.5 BMI
One very self-assured lady with a love for her fellow travelers along life's road.

Quote du jour "We are all in this world together, we might as well make the best of it!"