Interesting article.

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/MindMoodNews/popularity-predict-health-outcomes/story?id=8696160&cid=wkstmbl

"Even after she lost weight in high school, made more friends and had more dates, Klein said she hung on to the pain of being the fat kid. The feeling came back whenever she felt rejected."

Scary how we all think alike!

Swing set

So I don't know how it is in other areas or other houses for that matter, but in my house, my housekeeper had other housekeeper friends. It was like a babysitter's club except for Mexican women who cleaned houses and took care of children and lived in the house.

Anyway, word on the babysitter's club circuit was that one of the housekeeper's kids (not her child, but rather the kid she took care of) was having a birthday party, and ::gasp:: it was across the street from my house! So my housekeeper, Lupita, decides she would take me with her to shoot the breeze or whatever.

The party was like any other birthday party at the kid's backyard, complete with a magician. I didn't know anyone there, so I was sitting alone for most of the performance. I kept looking for excuses to go to Lupita but she pretty much told me to fuck off. Desperate and alone, I was seeking comfort when I found it in the shape of a swing set.

I sat down and was swinging thinking about how much that party sucked and how I just wanted to go home. I kept swinging harder and harder because you know, I had nothing better to do. All of a sudden BAM. I'm on the floor. The swing broke! The chain must have either gotten lose from the top or maybe I snapped it. Either way, I was fucking DYING of embarrassment. I didn't know where to hide.

Of course all the kids noticed and pretty soon the birthday boy came up to me and started yelling at me for breaking his swing set. I didn't know what to do or say! I just stood there crying, full of mud and scratches. I ran into the bathroom and locked myself in there where I cleaned up and felt sorry for myself.

I could hear all the kids talking about the "fat girl that broke the swing" and I felt so terrible! I must have been in there for a good 10 minutes before my housekeeper talked me into letting her in. Lupita gave me a huge hug and cleaned me up some more. She told me not to worry about it, that all those other kids were a bunch of jerks anyway. I felt a bit better about breaking that asshole's swing set.

Lupita didn't waste any time in taking me back home where neither of us peeped a word to my mom about what went down.

Now that I think about it, I went through a lot of those embarrassing episodes. I guess that's the price you pay when you're a fat child.

Fat kid at universal studios.

I must have been around seven. I was waiting in line to get into the ET ride and it seemed like it would take forever. There was a group of asian guys next to me and one of them was eating a Popsicle.

I don't know why, but the Popsicle really caught my eye. It kind of looked like a creamsicle but covered in what looked like a red chocolate shell. Anyway, I was enthralled! I was staring at this Asian guy eating his Popsicle when he notices a fat seven year old Mexican girl staring him down.

He jokingly motions an offering of the half eaten Popsicle and I immediately turn around and bury my face into my dad's stomach. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!"

I was so embarrassed that the guy had caught me looking at his Popsicle so I tried not to look at him again, although him and his cool kid Asian friends were all looking at me and chuckling. At the time I was like 'WTF IS HE EATING?!?!'

But whatever. Haha, I just thought of that since I was looking at this giant box of pictures my mom has and of course there were like a million from way back when we went to Orlando.

I had this habit of posing for pictures, but I'd stand on one leg and spread out my arms in front of everyone because I had seen it on the Babysitter's Club and thought it looked awesome! Eventually my pose annoyed the family and one of my brother's beat me up. There's actually a picture of me post beating and I look like I had been crying.

Oh childhood.

Lupita.

I really suck at keeping up with posts.

My sister and I were reminiscing about the past and we were remembering our house-keeper from back in the day. Her name was Lupita and she was like our second mother/older sister. My parents were always busy (don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they were never there or anything) so Lupita was always there to help us with whatever we needed.

She came to work with us when I was 3. She was only 14, but she was the only working person in her family. Every week she would send money to her family and barely kept any for herself. She was always a hard worker and she had a lot of ambition.

Lupita didn't speak a word of English, and at the tender age of 3, I didn't either. If my mom was too busy to help me with my homework, my house keeper would do her best to help me. She would also cook my meals and try and help my mom with the never-ending battle with my weight.

Needles to say, she would sneak in a couple of treats for me. She would leave me little mini-snickers on my pillow at night. Also, I absolutely refused to sleep on my own. I slept with her until I was 11. And even then, she had to be in the room for me to fall asleep.

Lupita was such an awesome big sister. She would put it on this crazy radio station that was based in Mexico City and for some reason, our retarded radio would get signal. (That radio was retarded, we would get signal from the airport and we could hear the pilots talking). The radio station would have a segment at night dedicated to the paranormal. We would stay up really late listening to people call in and talk about the weird things happening in their home. For some reason, they got a lot of calls complaining about dwarfs or elves.

I guess that's why I'm so into that kind of stuff. I grew up with it.

Anyway, Lupita left us for a good year or two. It was hard for us to cope without her because she was always there. When she came back, she had a surprise: she was pregnant. I think I was about 13 when she gave birth her son. She named him Brian, which is hilarious because he's a really really really Mexican looking kid with a white name.

We raised Brian for a couple of years.

Then she left to Atlanta and she would call us all on our birthdays and send us letters. I always thought it was so sweet that she remembered all that stuff.

She came by and stayed with us for a couple of days this past summer, and it was just like old times. We stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about what's new, talking about love and most importantly, talking about ghosts.

My sister and I were laughing because she and I were horrible kids to her sometimes. We locked her out of the house while my sister and I wreaked havoc on our house. One time, we were out riding out bikes and I decided it would be hilarious to ram my bike into hers, and when I did, she flew off of hers and skinned her leg BAD. She still has the scars!

Oh man, Lupita was such a badass.

She's working at the Salvation Army now and she can speak English! That girl has so much ambition... I envy her. What she wants, she gets with blood, sweat, and tears. I wish I had that sort of dedication.

Sorry for the rant, but she was on my mind all day.

Oh, Lupita. You were the best.

The sad tale of the shiny underwear.

When we were kids, my mother would make us hang out with her god daughter. She was ok, for the most part. We were kids and I remember she locked the door and played Jerry Macguire and kept rewinding it back to the sex scene.

I wonder, are most kids pervs? I'm sure I wasn't the only one that did this. Anyway, so this girl was a year older than me, and one day after playing we went back to her room. In her room she had all her clothes thrown about, so I saw these panties that at the time, I thought were awesome. They were silk and not the regular kid panties. These panties were her older sister's, but I didn't learn this until later.

The point is, I was so impressed that she wore such mature underwear, I wanted to join the club. So right after leaving, I told my mom: "Mom! She has the coolest underwear, they're shiny like silk! I want some too! I think I'm old enough".

My mom lol'ed and said she'd buy me my very own shiny underwear. So one day she comes home and says she has them, so I'm really excited and then she busts them out: SHINY GRANNY PANTIES. I was horrified, but my mom said "These are the kind of underwear women wear, and this is what you asked me for. Besides, I already threw out all your little girl underwear."

I bit the bullet and wore them... for at least three years. My brothers would make so much fun of me, but I believed my mom. Those underwear were for women and not girls. I swear, if I pulled those panties up high enough, I could tuck them under my armpits.

I don't remember how or when I stopped wearing them, but everytime I do the laundry and see a pair in my mom's drawer, I cry a little inside.

Fat kid horror stories.

I know I haven't done a good job at recounting them all... I haven't updated in over a month.
Mostly because I haven't had a chance with work and school and all that fun stuff. Also because I asked a dear friend for his honest opinion... and it wasn't good. I know that you can't always appeal to all readers, but I guess it just kind of uninspired me.

I've had several friends asking me for updates and such. I mean, I still want to keep this going, because honestly, being a fat kid has made me into who I am now. I have countless stories of my fatty days and although at the time they were torture, now I can get a good laugh from them.

When I was 12, my mom took me to a Mexican weight loss program called "Quita Kilos" (which translates into "get rid of... pounds" or something like that). She called it our last resort, BUT then again, she always said that everytime she took me to a diet clinic.

So we're with our consultant lady who is going over what my diet plan, and when we got to the lunch part, my mom had objections. "What do you mean she can only have half a sandwich and a small apple? She'll never have enough with that, she needs more food". The lady was already annoyed with my mother because she's obnoxious and kind of rude sometimes, so she replied "Well... maybe that's why she is in this state".

With that, my mother picked up her purse and grabbed me by my fat arm and stormed out.

I was extremely embarrassed. I just had a stranger call me fat to my face and blamed my mother for it... the same woman who would lock the fridge with a master lock and a chain.

My mom and I laughed about it recently, but it took me back to how crappy I felt that time.

Fat kids have it bad.

Anyway, if you're reading this and have your own fat kid horror story, please don't hesitate to share. I know there are millions of people out there who would have something to share about their past, so I want to give you all a chance to share.

Leave a comment or something.

DO IT TO IT!

My love affair with cheese.

I love cheese. I love everything about cheese. I couldn't imagine a life without it. My love of cheese has only grown in the past years.

I can't remember the first time I had cheese (or anytime when I didn't love it), but I know I must have been around the age of three. I loved everything about it then and I love everything about it now. I love the texture, I love the way it melts, I loved the way it tastes with almost everything.

Cheese is simply the best.

When I was a little girl, I would drag my sister and her little walking table thing and stand on it just to reach the cheese. Seriously, there is proof.

As I mentioned, my fondness of cheese has only grown with age. Back then I only limited my cheese consumption to mostly American cheese and string cheese. I would eat it alone, I would melt it on a plate, I would eat it with bread.

Now that I'm older, I have grown to love several different varieties of cheese. I even learned how to eat cheese with grapes (Uvas con queso saben a beso). I have cheese parties with one of my best friends. We buy an expensive cheese (last time we went with a delicious smoked cheddar) and we buy some Triscuits and have it with some bottled sangria on the side. I'm making myself hungry just thinking about it.

Anyway, everyone always made fun of me for loving cheese so much. They'd say "That's why you're the way you are, you can't stop eating cheese". They'd tease me about this love affair and gawk at me for always asking for more cheese on my plate or eating just the cheesy parts. Don't even get me started on Mac and Cheese. It was death. In a good way.

So because I was so obsessed with cheese and my mother was so concerned about my growing weight, she'd stop buying normal cheese (much to the dismay of my siblings who couldn't enjoy cheese with their sandwiches). Instead, she'd buy some of the fat free stuff which is gross and just plain mean.

She hoped that my fondness of this milky food product would die down (along with my giant ass), but it didn't and it won't. The fact that I couldn't have it regularly made me love it even more. She eventually gave up not buying cheese, because I had it anyway. If I didn't have any at home, I'd go over to friend's houses and have their cheese. I was unstoppable.

Picking a favorite cheese is like asking me to pick just one favorite Radiohead song: It's impossible. I can't pick just one. I love the way sharp cheddar tastes, but I also love the way some softened Brie tastes like with some fruit spread. I love the texture of Munster and I LOVE provolone on my Subway sandwiches. I love the way Monterrey Jack with pepper tastes, ESPECIALLY on a Triscuit cracker.

Man, I love cheese.

Love in the world of a fat kid.

When I was six, my celebrity crush was Sylvester Stallone. I had the hots for the most random guy ever. Seriously, do kids even know who he is?

NO!

Most girls my age were in love with other people, like Elijah Wood or Jonathan Taylor Thomas (Who can forget JTT?!). I had my eyes set on this much older gent. I was in love with Sylvester Stallone and that was that. You might ask yourself "How is that even possible?". Well, I'll tell you how.

It all happened one evening when I was sitting in the living room with my family watching HBO. There was nothing special about this, except for the fact that we were watching Demolition Man. For some reason, this terrible film captivated me. I thought Sylvester Stallone kicked so much ass and looked amazing. Everything about the movie made me happy. I thought it was hilarious that Taco Bell became an uber fancy restaurant and I didn't even mind the naked lady that appears for all of two seconds. Everything about that movie tickled my pickle in the good way. For some reason I was smitten by Stallone. His big manly arms and pecks seemed amazing to me at the tender age of six.

My brothers would tease me about being in love with such a weird person. I mean, really, who can blame them? What kind of child has a crush on Stallone? He has a crooked mouth and a speech impediment for crying out loud!

This crush lasted for almost two years, when I moved on to someone even more random: Speed Racer, but alas this is a tale for another day.

BFF: Best Fat Friend.

It seems that most fat kids can't have enough with just being fat. Almost always the child has to have big geeky glasses, or nasty teeth. Or both. This was the case in my childhood obesity.

I was the token fat kid with giant glasses that were perpetually dirty and a face only a mother could love. Seriously. Talk about an ugly duckling. Not only was I fat and dorky, I was hairy too. Thank you, Mexican genes. I wasn't made fun of too much though, I was what my brother calls "Cugly" or "Uglute", which means I was so ugly it was kind of cute.

I never really felt ridiculed in elementary school (not at the ripe age of 7 at least), mostly because I hung around with a much smaller boy that looked like a toddler. We were the bestest friends EVER. We would do everything together. He was my only real friend back in the day. Anyway, as I was saying, they didn't really ridicule me per se, but us. They made fun of us being such good friends. Adults found it hilarious that such a fat, hairy girl would become friends with a kid her same age that looked like he escaped a nearby day care.

Both our parents would joke around that we would one day marry each other because we were always together! We would play with my Barbie's and his Ninja Turtles without a care in the world. To us, there was nothing funny about our friendship. We became friends the day we met. I was four and he was three (He's a couple of months younger) and even though there was a slight age difference we would tell everyone that we were born the same day together. We were such good friends in fact, that after I was done eating my lunch, he would give me his. No questions asked.

That was love, man.

We stuck together all the way through High School, even. If anyone made fun of my dear friend, I, the fat kid, would stand up for him and defended him with tooth and nail. No one messed with my buddy. He was the only real friend I had back in elementary and no one was going to tease him in my presence.

I don't talk to him as much, which kind of sucks, but what can you do? People grow up and we move on.

Either way, every fat kid needs their side kick, and Hector, you were mine. This is for you, for sticking with me through all those tough times at lunch where I'd eat your food and those days we'd play with your ninja turtles and talk about how the Green Ranger was better than the Red Ranger.

You were the best friend a fat kid could have.

I can has blog?

Memoirs of a Fat Kid was an idea I was tossing around with a friend of mine one boring afternoon. We were in my room listening to the my favorite playlist on my iPod called "Vagina Music", and we were recounting our horror stories as fat children.

"Oh, you think you had it bad? I had to start wearing junior sized clothing at the age of 10."
"Yeah? Well I got caught eating everybody's lunch in Pre-K."

After we laughed about it for what seemed like hours, I thought I should write a book one day. A collection of horrible memories I had as a fat kid. I wanted to write about how I used to beg my mom to let me stay home because I was too embarrassed to go to birthday parties and show up in the ugliest clothes available only to plus sized children. I also wanted to write about how my nick name at home, to this day, is "Gorda" which is fatty in Spanish.

I decided I will go through with this book, but I have to start somewhere.

This is it.

On a side note, I'm not only going to use this blog to talk about fat kid memories that are hilarious. I'm will write about bad movies, bad music and shitty people and society.

Enjoy!