An Open Letter to Obesity

Jan 13, 2009

Dear Obesity,

 You've been by my side for the better side of 30 years and for the most part I've had no problem keeping you around.  You were (well I thought) you were a friend, a wing to eat when times were rough, a cone to lick when the heat rose a degree.  I want to tell you why I can no longer use your friendship or support.

7 Pounds 7 Ounces. First Child, Grandchild, Great Grandchild of the family.  Born a mere 6 days after a young girls Sweet Sixteenth.  By that age, some girls get their own phone. Some get cars, but this one got me.  Smooth Brown Skin, Jet Black Curly Hair.  Big Brown Eyes.  Tall Slender Puerto Rican Dad, Short Thick Black Mom.  Who knew the make up of my genes could lead this way.  You knew all along huh?  Sure you did.

Growing up through the years, I was just like most 6-7 year olds. A ball of energy with his whole vibrant life ahead of him.  We've been together for so long, I bet you don't remember where we met. Actually I'm positive you do, but do you know when you let me know that you were with me?  Don't know?  Here I'll tell you.

My Grandfather signed my up to play Little League football in the Logan section of Philly. I was 10 years old. Because of my age, I had to play for the 110 lb team.  I never missed a practice as this serves as the beginning of a passion I still feed to this day.  Before we could get our uniforms before our first game, we had to get weighed in.

There I stand, 10 years old.  I never looked down, but Coach Jeff formally introduced me to you.

"160 Pound's!!!???"

Obesity - George

George - Obesity

Nice to meet you.  Not Really

After meeting you, I took all 160 pounds and walked home. I sat at the top of the stairs at home as my grandfather walked in the door and wanted to know why I didn't have a uniform. I had a 50 pound excuse for him.

With you by my side, I looked to you for comfort. You fed me well, but I still practiced with the team, but I could not play.  At 12 I got my act together and played on the 135 pound team. Yes I lost the weight, but it wasn't easy. You made sure of it.  I shedded your grip until I entered High School, but by then you pumped more food into me. Actually, I ALLOWED you to.  I ballooned to over 200 lbs, and I used it to my advantage in the sports realm.  I was overweight, but not Obese.  I guess Overweight is a cousin of yours. He's bad news as well.

I actually used you a little bit, will you and your cousin. It helped me get into a class university and a free education.

After College, you showed up at my door with open arms.  We've been buddies ever since.  Even when I continued my sports career, I pushed around Linebackers, Defensive Lineman, and you.  You really made sure you were by my side.  You were the Fat Ass Devil sitting on my shoulder.  When I thought to myself "Should I get that Bacon on it" you answered for me.  We were doing the dayum thing together.  The burned holes in my pants from my thighs rubbing together. You was loving that. The Countless fresh pair of sneakers I bought that quickly ended up on it's side because of my weight.

You and I quickly climbed up the obesity chart together. Hand in Chubby Hand.  I had no problem hanging out with you. We went to parties and watched other people dance while you and I posted up and held up the wall. We sat up and watched TV, eating boneless wings and Cream Soda.  Best Friends Forever. I was so happy with you. I hid behind nice clothes and and  great self esteem.  Just when we were exclusively together, you invited some friends.

George, let me introduce you to Diabetes, High Blood Pressure and my homie High Cholesterol.

Hey, how you guys doing?

Two's Company, 3's a Crowd..4's a dayum shame.  So here we are, the 4 of us living together...all needing something.

High Blood Pressure craved Salt and Pills.  M.C. Cholesterol demanded all types of food that I didn't need, oh and more medication.  Diabetes...man..he wanted my sight, my Foot, 6 shots a day and my circulation.

But you, Obesity...you wanted all of the above along with my will power.  I've done all the things that I was not suppose to do.  It was all my fault for letting you get the best of me.  I've worked out, dieted, and stop short of starving myself to shake myself of you. I've shed 75 pounds worth of you a few years ago, but like an abused spouse, I let you right back in.

Well guess what?  I got something for your azz.  I have a tool on the horizon that with hard work and discipline, will have you packing your bags.  It isn't a cure for you, but it will partner with my mind and latch on (just like you did).  Well your time is up potnah.  You got to go. Get the steppin' and don't let the door hitcha where the good lord splitcha.

Once I'm officially lifted the Obese label, I'm going to bury you.  Oh, and your cohorts will go with you.  Every Pill, Syringe and every drop of synthetic insulin is going with you.

There's also a group of people who is reading this that has also kicked you to the curb.  They are helping me learn more about you and how to deal with you. I'm sure you remember them all.  I found them and they are my new friends.  One more added to an Army of warriors that's causing you a slow death.

Well it's been fun. You don't have to go home....well...yes you do. Go Home Obesity and take all this deadly fat with you.

Sorry to see you go.  Yeah, I'm kidding.

Scared? Say you're scared.

Sugar and Fat Free Juice

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