A fat child
For the illumination of those who didn’t bear the sting of the taunt that inspired my title, let me quote:
Fatty, fatty, two by four,
Couldn’t get through the bathroom door,
So she did it on the floor,
Licked it up and did some more.
Six decades of introspection have led me to the firm conclusion that the entire course of my life has been determined by being the brunt of those words–and others that cut just as deep. In high school band, a trombone player called me a “pregnant gazelle” when I tripped and fell on one of the risers in the band hall. (Yes, I remember his name: Gary Ellsworth. These tidbits one does not forget easily.) I once overheard a beloved aunt from Oklahoma tell my mother, “You must get tired of having people tell you all the time, ‘Your girls are so FAT.'” At some point in my adolescence, my own father said I was “a fat sow who does nothing but lay [sic] around and read all day.” Sadly, my memory of one of the other fat girls in my class was recently stirred when I read her obituary in the online version of our hometown newspaper, the Arizona Silver Belt. Virginia Garcia is the first girl in the first row in the picture above. Her family nickname, which spilled over to the playground, was Porky. Continue reading