My mom married my new step-dad, Jef, when I was 6. I remember thinking that I wanted to gain
weight so that I would look more like my new step-dad Jef, and then people
would not know I was not his biologically.
Oma dies, when I am 7. I become
very depressed. It is not long after she
dies that I walk in to Mom and Dad’s room and tell them that I want to die too,
to be with Oma. Mom, who was already in
a bad place at that time, kind of loses it.
Although I have no idea how to accomplish such a thing, I think this may
have been my first suicidal thoughts. I
begin to gain weight. In the pictures of
my 8th birthday you can tell I am chunky.
It is in those early years I develop my first cases of
Bronchitis and my first case of Pneumonia.
My new step-dad, Jef, who I will refer to as Daddy from now on, smokes
in the house. It is a while before we
understand the connection. I am terribly
allergic to smoke. As the idea that
second hand smoke was bad for you is new, and Dad’s are hard to change, he
continues to smoke in the house until I am in my teens. By that time I am having about 3 cases a year
or more. I am told I must not get to hot
outside or run and play too much or I will get sick again. For years I am watched for signs of getting
to hot, being red and sweating. My
running days are over.
Mom continues to lose it for several years after Oma’s
death. We cannot even talk about Oma or
she will burst into tears. She nearly grieves herself to death. She
becomes anorexic and one night tucking her in bed, I can count every rib. Mom never gets help and no one, I guess, ever
suggest it too her. I continue to gain weight.
My Pediatrician suggests putting me on a diet. I am 9 years old. Mom begins to recover soon after and becomes
obsessed with my weight. Eating
disorders are very common in those who have been sexual abused.
Growing up unconditional love was something I only got some
Oma. As a child most of the “I love
you’s,” came with a “but” attached. I
love you, but you’d be so pretty if you just lost 10 pounds. I love you, but you should lose some
weight. I love you, but your butt is
getting too big.
At Novelle’s, Daddy’s mother, she berated me on a regular
and public basis. I remember many, many
family dinners where she would sit and tell me how fat I was, and was I going
to eat all my food. NO ONE stood up for
me. Not my parents, my cousins, my aunts
or my uncles, none of them. I was
forbidden to defend myself or say anything to her by my parents. In fact this treatment from her continued
until my teens, where I would drive to family functions in my car. If she insulted me, I would quietly pick up
my plate, place it beside the sink, and leave. She never did this to her other
grandchildren, some who were bigger than me.
I believe she did this because I was her step-grandchild, and she
always, until the day she died, saw me as such.
Despite being legal adopted into the family, and doing family genealogy
on her side of the family. I am still listed in the family bible as a
step-grandchild. She even goes so far as
to tell me one day, that no man will want me because I am so fat. We had a
complicated history, but more on that later.
I never asked to be put on a diet. I never saw anything wrong with my body till
everyone else did. Then the self hatred
began in earnest. Wanting to please I
did as I was told, but the weight would not come off. I look back at my pictures from that age and
do not see a fat child, maybe a bit pudgy, but not in need of diets. I never knew when the newest diet would
begin. My mother became the food Nazi. I
was of course not allowed cakes, cookies, or cokes, even in moderation. Things I had never been denied before. Some days I would come home and only be
allowed Slimfast for dinner, while my father ate a full meal, plus dessert. Mom
would diet with me. I never knew when
the diet would start. I have done Weight
Watches, wheat germ, Slimfast’s and lots of other fad diets that were around at
the time. And of all cruelties, when I went to stay with Novelle, she feed me
as much ice cream, cokes and cookies as I could hold. I remember eating extra portions, and others
left over lunches at school.
I was bullied in High School about my weight, by Jeremy
Pace, John Scott Smitherman, Cajun Rink, and Neil Alexander. They were my tormenters. Every day from about middle school till my
senior year, I heard about how fat, how ugly, how stupid and how crazy I was,
sometimes on an hourly basis. It was
during these dark years that I first truly began to contemplate suicide, and
stayed depressed most of the time. I
don’t know if they could smell the blood in the water or they just picked me
for no reason. It was everyday, constant from them, being told how fat and ugly
I was while sitting in class and anywhere else they wanted to at school. I developed chronic stomach aches and
anxiety over going to school. When I
told my parents, I was told two things that kids are cruel and I was never to
fight back. That if I did it would go on
my permanent record and I would not get into a good college. Again I did as I was told.
Only one teacher every did anything to them, my 7th
grade English teacher. Jeremy and them
were being especially bad that day. She
called him out and told him to apologize.
She made him go outside the room until he was ready to apologize. When he came back in he would ask for my
forgiveness. I told him I would not
forgive him. He did this about three
times. Finally I told the teacher, I
will never forgive him for what he has done to me.
Jeremy and I had an interesting relationship. He constantly harassed me at school, but we
had United Methodist Youth Group (UMYF) together and he never messed with me
there. One night our leader took us into
a little chapel to pray. She told us to
write our deepest heart’s desire on a piece of paper and pray over it. She gathered them and slowly read out loud,
with no names, from the back of the chapel.
Mine was, “Please make them stop teasing me.” After that Jeremy was no longer the ring
leader, and most of it stopped.
It wasn’t until Cajun joined the group in high school that
the mooing started. They would moo down
the hall and call after me, “Free Willie!”
If you don’t get the moo thing, its cause Borden, the milk company, has
a cow named Elsie. And of course Elsie
sounds like Ilsa, thus the mooing. And I
guess they thought I was as big as a cow.
Cajun loved to torment me. He
even went so far as to paint penises on my car one afternoon. An action, over which, would get him suspend,
again. Thankfully the Principle had been
hiding in a parked school bus, watching the kids, and had seen the whole
thing. My great joy was watching Cajun
have to scrub my car with a toothbrush!
Jeremy’s mother was one of my favorite teachers. I found her on Facebook some years ago, and I
told her of the torment that her son and his friends had put me through. I did not hear from her again for a
while. Turns out she was waiting to confront
him about all of this. He responded to
her that yes he had bullied me in high school.
When asked why, he simply said, “Everyone did it.” His mom apologized profusely for him. She had no idea any of this had ever gone
on. She did give me an explanation
though. About the time this all began,
Jeremy’s dad was abusing him. It was
threw this statement that I was able to forgive him. If he was being abused, he may have simply
used me as a scapegoat. It was a way for
him to blow off anger over the abuse. I
have never received apologies from the others.
I never stood up for myself until two weeks before I
graduated high school. I was sitting in
class, quietly holding my cousins hand, when Eric Miller stood up and gave me a
Texas Titty Twister. Now for those of you who don’t know what that
is, let me enlighten you. A Texas Titty Twister is when you walk up to a girl and grab
her nipple and twist it one way or another.
When he put his hands on me I had had enough. I snapped! What the hell were they going to
do to me next! That was too far! I grabbed Eric by the shirt and threw him
against the desk. But that wasn’t
enough. I felt the rage boiling in
me. I grabbed him again, and threw him
to the floor. He was stunned. I stood over him and said, “You ever fucking
touch me again and I’ll kill you!!!” Everyone was shocked. They had never seen me react to anything they
did to me. Hey I was fixing to graduate,
what the hell could they do to me. I am
hauled into the Vice-principles office.
She not angry at Eric for what he did, or what I did, she’s angry at me
for holding my cousins hand! She tells
me there are to be no public displays of affection at school! I still don’t know what kind of punishment,
if any, Eric received. But this
incredible thing happened! After that
incident, nobody, my bullies included, ever messed with me again.
My diets continued until I was 18, when I told my mother
that I was legally an adult and she could no longer force me to do
anything. I remember my elation on my
first day of college, no one mooed at me, and no one said anything about my
weight. I was free. It was finally over.
There is only one more incident of Mooing in my life. It happens late in my college years. I am walking past a group of freshmen. They Mooed.
I decided to scare them a bit. I
figured part of it was because they had never had a fat friend and no one had
ever called them on their shit. I turned
and went up to them an introduced myself.
I meant to ask them why they had done that, but the look of shock on
their faces was enough for me. They were
clearly embarrassed.
No one Moo’s at me
anymore but when I am out in public I am ever vigilant that it might happen
again. I have my comeback all
ready. “Thank god you told me I was fat! I didn’t know! I can’t see it every morning when I look in
the mirror!” Come on mother fuckers I’m
ready for you this time!
Ilsa
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