From One Fat Chick to Another: An Open Letter (whatever the hell that means...)

Dear Ladies (and the occasional wandering eyes of gentlemen),

Once upon a time there was a little baby girl, and for some reason or another she grew and Grew and GREW into an enormous, unhealthy woman.

She blamed her state on everyone else:
Even though no one was force-feeding her like a goose.
Even though she was perfectly capable of lifting whatever five pound object was in her home (a large jar from a failed DIY project, one of her many cats).
Or put on a pair of shoes and walk outside at a brisk pace.
With slim exceptions, such as the bleak hours of the night where one secretly admits to the Sandman their folly- her unhealthy state was, unequivocally not her responsibility or fault.
She blamed all men for not seeing her inner beauty.
At times, people were mean to her about her weight, so clearly she had the right to be mean to others, considering she was the victim and all...

For hours she'd stare zombily at social media sites.
She posted quotes by amazing people, as if to live vicariously through their minds (although most were dead, so it was more retroactive...) but never acted on anything that inspired her.
She ogled pictures of faraway places and beautiful cultures, but decided the mountains looked too steep for her, the oceans too deep.
Her favorite thing she COULD do, however, was mock ugly pictures of celebs.
Or wait sneakily, like the villainous cat from 'The Great Mouse Detective', for someone to post something, anything to sink her teeth into.
With a whole list of retorts she'd been holding back since middle school (because kids are judgey assholes at that age) finely crafted through the years- she was a warrior of the comment section!
The touch pad her sword and the 'delete' button her shield.
Titles like:
"Blah blah FAT SHAMING blah blah"
and 
"REAL WOMEN HAVE CURVES!"
and
"Insert Generic Comment Here About How Every Womyn's A Goddess And Men Are Pigs."
and
"Health Tip Only Meant For Already Healthy People But The Blogger Is Trying To Raise Their Viewership, So They Make It Seem Anyone Can Do It!"

To these, the woman would tear vehemently at the article and posters, with the ferocity she'd show a German Chocolate Cupcake with a truffle in the middle.
She cheered and shouted out, and wrote how true it was her curves were that of a woman- men SHOULD love her the way she was!
With puffed chest, she'd look down upon the kingdom of her feline masses like the Goddess she was meant to be.
She'd repost the health tips, as if everyone but her should be doing them, because, after all, they'd never have known it without her.

She'd tear down the people she longed to be like and raise up those that were just like her. 

There were times she'd watch a woman or girl she considered much fatter than herself walk by, hand in hand with a universally hot guy.
Sometimes it was a hot woman with a balding, pork-bellied man.
She wondered how it was possible (and not in a good, self-respective way).

At some point she may have found love.
Maybe they were both just settling because neither wanted to 'die alone'.
He may have accepted her weight, maybe not.
In those bleak, Sandman hours maybe both wished they were lying next to their ideal instead.  
Maybe he was just like her and content to talk about all the things he'd like to do as he binge-watched Netflix with her for the rest of their lives. 
She may even have had kids; fat chubby bastards, just like their parents- after all, monkey see monkey do.

What I do know is that she was always tired.
Her skin was always oily.
Her hair greasy despite all the fancy shampoos at Sephora.
In her thirties, without any sort of disaster or infortuitous circumstance, her body began to ache at the joints.
First her knees.
Then her hips.
Next to rebel were her arches.
She began to have 'pains', like her nerves twitching in odd places.
Paranoia set in about heart attacks just in time to get diabetes.
The electronic chair helped her get around, despite everyone always being in her way.
She wasn't very kind at this point either.
The world owed her.
She watched from her chair as women twenty years her senior still laughed and moved around, unhindered.
She died eventually, like we all do.


And that was her life.
She never went on an adventure because she knew she couldn't make it up the mountain or across the river.
Certainly not without help.
Certainly not without embarrassing herself and having to admit she couldn't make it.
Admitting it out loud.
And she never found the person she felt she deserved, unlike that bitch, Savannah down the street, still outside everyday doing yard work. 


My morals of the story are these ladies:

-Weight has nothing to do with health.
-Our health is the only true thing we have control of in this world.
--Thus: Your health is your responsibility. No one else's. Only yours.

-Healthy people want to spend their time with other people who care about their health.
--It's not that our personalities are necessarily lacking, but we can't blame others for finding value in one's body when we aren't showing we do as well.
---Healthy doesn't mean a size '0' or being able to run a triathlon while skipping: it's being able to physically do all those things you want to do, and only stopped by physics, genetics and anatomy. 

-Choosing to spend the amount of time ALL of us do on Social Media and Netflix, letting those hours slip by unnoticed, is a fault.
--If you have the time to spend doing all that, you can equally chose to improve your health with that time.

-A "Real Woman" has two X chromosomes. And then there are those that want to have two X chromosomes and guess what? They can be real women too. The more the merrier! So knock the rest of that crap off.

-Being happy with one's self isn't usually followed with verbal hostilities about someone else.
--Shrinks call it 'masking' or 'projecting'. Recognize yourself.

And most importantly:
I want you all (myself included) to live an amazing, healthy and happy life filled with all the potential you could possibly achieve.
So please, let's all drop the ego, the act, and the excuses and get our own asses out there.
That's my New Years wish at least... 


Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind

A Commentary on Value, Because of Chicken

'Worth' and 'value' is a curious thing.

We grade ourselves against society. Friends. Enemies. Family. Our own ideals of self.
All by a sliding, fictional scale. And instead of helping us grow, it seems to reflect an ugly image back of everything we are not, everything we lack and are convinced we'll never be. Slowly chipping away at our sense of self.
I would take the leap in saying many good feelings leap away with it.

Story time! Settle in kiddies.
When I was in 6th or 7th grade, among dozens of assemblies for awareness about home abuse, bullying and sexual harassment/assault, there was a man who, ever so candidly, referred to 'victims' of sexual assault as,
“Second Hand Virgins”...
No matter how you spin this term, or your Maklemore'ick infatuation with thrift stores, there's no good connotation here. The implication is a person thus violated is no longer 'new'. Deemed worthless, it is rejected. Put on a shelf at a bargain price. Shuffled through strange hands, left waiting. Unwanted. To gather dust among the nick-knacks, or be snatched up as a 'deal' or DIY project.
This term devalues people.
Almost to a sub-human level.
Much like 'victim' and 'survivor' unconsciously do.
And it made me very angry.
But the damage of these three, incredibly careless words was done... And without my permission, I might add, which is very rude.

Now, let me be candid here; don't get your nickers twisted. I'm 'sharing' bits about myself to lend to a larger observation I had today which I (for some reason) needed to share. That's all. So cool your jets, some of you.
I'll tie this in later.

I'll start with the 'Oh!/Huh...' moment, I had while on my 480th pound of frying mochiko chicken earlier and that is this:
I/you/we are valueless.

There's no scientific scale that spits out a number- rating who we are, at all times, during this experience.
But the concept of trying to estimate our abstract worth is so ingrained that it leads to some very serious consequences.

Our skills have worth to an employer who can apply them and THAT is tabulatable, but on the flip side, a doctor has no use for a mechanic if he needs an RN. That doesn't mean the mechanic is any less skilled.

No one (thank hades) knows what is going through our heads every moment. Or how quickly our opinions and judgments change...
I think it'd look like a school of sardines, swirling refractivly and almost chaotically together in the dark blue and open ocean.
With this constant flow, growth and contraction of character and ideals, a set value is not only inconsequential, but meaningless.

So a guy at a bar thinks a lass is homely and droll but suddenly she's great because... let's say... she bought him a beer... You judge him to be shallow, or her to be trying too hard- but that's a moment, not a whole.
He's a person and, who he IS, isn't that judgment. Just as her single action of buying beer, for whatever the motivation, doesn't change who she is.

With that logic in mind (if you could follow it), here is why I think our instinctual need to place value on ourselves is not a good, or accurate way of thinking.

We aim too high and we fall too low.

The full-grown woman who flounces around arrogantly, stating she deserves to be treated like a princess or the man demanding to be treated as a king; outwardly, they value themselves above the rest but in their heads, to reach such an extreme as to ignore societal etiquettes such as 'modesty', can't one argue that they must actually value themselves very low? That there is a part of them that is clearly not being fulfilled and is instead reaching for a concept that is not in this reality?

Soldiers, who go for country (and college tuition) to fight with bravado, don't always come back proud. Decent and hard working men call themselves murderer instead of hero; thinking less of themselves because they've taken a life(s). As, at least, one society will agree (whomever was fought), it only solidifies a low self worth. It's such heavy tally-mark to add against oneself.

'Worth' is where we lose ourselves.
If depression had a root, I'd call this a catalyst.
See, unbeknownst to me, my worth became 'second-hand' and from this, I treated every relationship with a underlying desperation (this was today's 'Oh' moment, brought to you by Chicken!).
Try to be amicable to everyone...
Don't share my conflicting thoughts...
Try to diversify myself so that no one gets bored of me...
Modify how I behave to who I'm with...
Don't give them a reason to throw me away.
And, at first, it was fucking exhausting!
Then it became who I was.
But it wasn't a real.
Checks and balances are great for politics, but shit for mental development.
Until I became a cook.
People don't understand what that meant to me. As my skills grew in the kitchen and I became part of the line instead of a hindrance, I stopped worrying about my worth, I did my job and well; I was judged by my peers on that alone. I started to take pride in myself and what emerged from that pride was who I always wanted to be.
A person.
Not a 'victim'.
Not a 'survivor'.
Those are labels for something that happened to you, or something you've come through; society sticks you with them, badge-like. Like wearing a suit of avocado green shag carpeting.
But they aren't all we are, as much as people insist on it. Like the soldier who kills so as not to be killed. It's just a thing that happened. And hopefully, eventually, it helps us grow.
Stronger. Wiser. Calmer.
One careless maneuver from an old man later and I had five months in a confined apartment to feel the dullness that was the loss of who I'd become...
I really had liked her.
Then there was seething and bitter anger, then dullness again. Then elevator music... maybe some sonnets...

My worth was intrinsically tied to my career. And I was told I would probably need to find a new one because my stupid knee was being stupid and may be stupid for the rest of my life (Medical terminology, I swear!). I was back to being less.
Even the guy who stumbled upon the mess of a person I was sloping back into, was swallowed up by my fears of lacking. Secretly hoping, as I used too in days o' yore, that he would place a value on me that was high enough and thus accept me, whom had not accepted herself.
It's foolish, really.
And super unfair of me.
Between being mad at him for taking the 'out' I gave born from insecurity, while wishing he hadn't, and moping over the rejection like a Shakespearean writ pup, the hole in my chest got wider.
With everything else compiling, I began to feel numb.
If I wasn't numb, then I was highly irritable. About. EVERYTHING.
Depression sucks like that.
I could tell I was off kilter, my calm slipping away. I'd rear my head like a startled horse every now and then, shocked at the heinousness of my attitude. If I thought on it really hard, hearkening on a truth that no one deserved to bear my poor behavior, I could pull myself out, at least until I was alone again.
Sleep, an old nemesis of mine, stopped visiting. Which is rude because I'd bought some lovely teas to share. I was more weary than I had been, doing three back to back shifts between two jobs. An overwhelming thought became, “I just want to rest.”

All this pirouetting of emotional debauchery stemmed, not simply from situations. I'd dealt with worse and been fine.
Took my licks, my lessons and moved on. It came because, without using anything as cover or mask, I'd never placed a high value on who I was.
And that very concept of plus and minus is what kept me down.

I think everyone needs to jump into the rabbit hole eventually. Evaluating oneself, rolling over events; reactions to events.
It's okay to feel disappointed in people close to you.
It's okay to get upset or be angry.
As long as it's felt and you keep thinking on it, pushing through to all sides of the argument... Well, it helps.
Rabbit holes, like our lives, aren't endless. Even in our own, endemic experiences, we haven't individually existed for 1,000 years. Hell, most of us won't make it to 100. So we can see through all, to the depths of our issues. Like that hole, we can all come back up to face the sun.

So there I was, frying (you guessed it!) chicken! Yay chicken! Ihateyouchicken.
The memory of that man flashed in my head. I thought, with the horse head raise of bewilderment:
'Wait a minute. Have I been living my life by that assholes words?'
...I think we all know the answer to that.
Then I came to think about everything I've written down now. And my conclusion is this:
We are valueless because we are limitless.
That's a good thing.
It means we can go in any direction we chose.
It's scary, but I've never felt so free.




Now if you'll excuse me, I need a shower. I reek of the fryer.

Contemplations of a Fat Girl: The Mantra Ode de Blubber

    Welcome back to another bout of bountiful contemplation and anecdotal insight from your favorite (or at least congenially amusing) Fat Girl and Bar Stool Shrink (as proclaimed by some very drunk guy a few months back)! Since my last scribblings, I haven't been sure where to go from where I left off. I wanted to explain some fears, but the spectrum is so broad that I don't quite know where to start without straying off the topic and ranting on for a few hours before trying to tie it all in with one last, paragraphically Puckish sentence. So we begin with the mantra every fat person knows.

    Let's start with something personal, shall we? Last week, I drew a rune from a set I've had since right before high school. (This part is important, despite how some people may think it's silly and others may judge me harshly. However, even though I don't prescribe to any religion, my grams, a devote Lutheran, draws runes too; she always has and says it's an important part of out Nordic heritage. So neener-neener. I feel validated.) The rune I drew said, basically, that I'd finally hit my stride in life, that I was accomplishing my

goals and evolving myself nicely (again, paraphrasing). However, I shouldn't start anything new and throw myself at it, because it wouldn't go over like I wanted it too. Well, I've hit my stride at my current workplace, my friends here on the island are freaking solid as the lava that keeps cutting us as waves send us through the washer, I'm going to the gym regularly and seeing small little changes here and there that are enough to make me ecstatic, my hair's even longer! Even with a back injury and cold, it's still been a rocking several months. Then, all of a sudden, there's this cool guy I meet (What? You expected him to be boring? Psh.)! I end up hanging around him a bit. We talk. He walks me home because his place is in the same line. I think, hmm, things are going well, but as the saying so popular in Korean dramas goes, 'I got too greedy.' Suddenly, (I think a friend mentioned something to him), he becomes evasive-ish. Like back in middle school, where that cool kid, you know the one, hears through the grapevine you have the hots for him and for the rest of the year, gives you that awkward sort-of half smile in the hallways and walks past you with expediency. Now, here's the tie-in, even if it's nothing to do with how I look; I could have stuff in my teeth or maybe just a terrible personality, possibly it's just the fates saying, 'Hey, don't freaking ignore us! Rude.' or he's simply not thinking one way or another about me, has nothing even to do with me- all this is beside the point, because my first thought is, and always has been, "It's because I'm fat.".

    There it is! The single, most suffocating, demoralizing and number one reason why fat people find it hard(not impossible) to change. Four, mostly monosyllabic, slightly contracted, words that limit everything we do. In them hides all our fears about ourselves, anxieties for our bodies and judgements on how other people perceive us. It's also our number one excuse.
"It's because I'm fat that I can't start running."
"...That those guys at Best Buy never help me, even when I'm clearly looking dazed and confused."
"...That the hot guy/girl doesn't notice me, but will talk to my hot friends."
"...That I won't get that promotion."
"...That I don't have the courage to talk to that person."
"...That I'm afraid to go to the gym, because everyone will judge me."
"...That I can't wear pretty clothes, I'll look ridiculous, like that Hippo from Fantasia."
"...That we won't be anything more than 'just friends'."
"...That I can't join in, because everyone will see I can't keep up. Or I'll let everyone down."

    The list is pretty infinite and the emphasis varies from person to person; and it's silly to assume that any individual doesn't have those exact same fears for different reasons, whether it's physical, a lack of skills or fear that your personality's lacking; we all have these. Thus, you may think there is no validity here, that it's all a bunch of excuses and whining, but when it's the same saying for everyone who falls into the fat, fluffy and 'Daaamn!' category, it's worth taking note of. Someone, more inspirational than myself, could say, "Just turn the it around! Say, instead, "..."" See, I've got nothing. Truthfully, in the end, one-liners don't work when dealing with a cacophony of others' blithe commentaries and your own viscous voice of self-doubt and loathing(and that's not even me being dramatic). This is because there's a certain level of truth to it. From conscious to subconscious, much of it's a learned behavior, backed up by societal interpretations of the body image. Let's explore one, shall we? With more bulletin points! I know how you've missed them.

Today we'll look at how fat people are effected by the voices and people around them. And there are voices, oh so many voices...

• Parents- That's right, whether you were fat since you were younger, to even older ages, unintentionally or not, any snide, bitchy, flippant or otherwise, comment from a parental unit can start the turning of the brain to the dark side, if it wasn't there already. Even parents who aren't highly affectionate and practically speak in tongues can do irreparable harm to their child's psyche even when they're used it. For instance, "He would have liked you if you if you weren't fat." That's kind of an obvious and scarring one. Or, "He'll need a large size... you know... because he's big..." Obvious statement, but still hurtful. "If you just lost a few pounds, that dress/shirt/pants/skirt/socks/bandana/bathing suit/leg warmers might have looked good on you" Very possible, but why can't something be found that will look good now? Ooh! And a classic, "*pokes at belly fat* Is that a beer baby?" I heard a friends mom say that once, he blushed and tried to 'shoo' her away. They're our parents after all, even if we don't want to admit it, their words can seep into our skins like a chill in the mountains and without proper contemplation, one may never realize how a single comment affected us so directly. 

• Siblings- Oh siblings... Depending on your relationship, the age gap and in which way the 'gap' scale slides (no pun intended), if you have/had a tumultuous relationship with siblings closer to your actual age, on average, you've heard your share of jokes about whatever characteristic you have that isn't flawless; and in a sibling rivalry, there is no such thing as flawless... lest they make fun of you for that. And should their friends band together to tease you- as any good friend would, to take down the evil sibling- then affect is that much greater. On the half, those comments easily bounce off our thickened hides, after all, we're bickering at each other getting our share of shot in too. To the other half... Let's just say I know a very pretty and in-shape lass who truly believed she was fat every time her brother would say so. He was kind of a jerk. After all, like our parents, we see them everyday, and the constant nagging can wear you down like the gazelle being chased by a lion, toying with you until they finally grab you by the jugular and topple you too the ground.
• Friends- Unless they are the no B.S. type and tell you everything straight out, we're don't  believe you when you say we 'look fine' in whatever it is we're asking you about. Whether it's because you're too close to be subjective, not paying attention or just lying through your teeth, the mirror already told us all our flaws that we've spent countless hours obsessing over and if you can't point even one of them out with your awesome Jedi Mind Tricks (which you'll need because a good portion of perceived flaws are nothing out of the ordinary to someone else.), then were going to assume we look worse than we ever actually did.
  This may be geared more towards women...
• Any Guy/Girl- Who gave 'the look' (there's a lot of 'the look's, but there's normally a degree of arrogance mixed with a pinch of disdain), or said something slightly snide/distant about... well... anything frankly- it is taken in and despite many peoples best efforts, internalized as material to build a case as to why you're too fat to talk to the hotties or anyone else for that matter, whether it's at a bar, club, or waiting in line at the neighborhood Safeway. Strangers can utterly shatter the shreds of self confidence a person has been pretending to have. Is it a good thing to care that much? Hell no. But unless they've found solid ground, emotionally, to stand on and stare out at the world unfailingly at, these strangers, whose names they'll never know, will get in and secure all one's insecurities with that single look.   
• Department Store Sales People and Everyone Else- During the production of 'Shallow Hal', Gwyneth Paltrow wore a 25lb fat suit that added nearly 300 extra visible pounds of fake flesh. As she walked through the lobby of the very swanky hotel she was staying in, fully clothed and make-up'ed for the movie, she told reporters later how startling it was to see how people acted around her in her obese state. No one made eye contact and in stores, sales people treated her like Julia Roberts in the beginning of 'Pretty Woman', not wanting to help her and being all-around not what she'd ever experienced before. She is Gwyneth. Freaking. Size 2. Paltrow after all. And was awesome in 'The Producers'. Just saying.
  No matter how you spin it, up until about five years ago, department stores only had a single corner of muumuu'esque looking frocks for plus sized women and men had to go to the Big & Tall stores. Although I don't know how the guys service was, most of the sales people avoided helping you in the women's departments. 

    This is me, keeping it short today. There's a point we all reach, or will(hopefully) where the words of others, although still noticed, begin affecting us less and less and more powerful thoughts override the negativity, such as, 'I won't always be like this.' It's a long-ass road to get to this point. Some people can't do it without the support of family, friends, loved ones or even a group of individuals just like them. Others, even with support, won't reach this point until they've muddled through the swampy waters and had their, 'Oh!' moment and slowly leverage through with their own determinations. Whether it comes from a doctor saying, "Look, in ten years, I'll be golfing in Hawaii. Do you know where you'll be if you keep this shit up? Well, you might have your ashes spread in Hawaii, but unless you believe in a religion, that's going to be about as far as you're going." or realizing you won't be able to play with your kids with the shape your in now- the 'Oh!' moment is imperative. As for me, after getting past numerous fears I can tell you all about later, my 'Oh!' moment was this: "Hey. For a chick who really loves zombies and has a dozen contingency plans for a zombie apocalypse, I won't be able to actually run away, in order to survive. I'll probably be one of those people who's eaten right off the bat, not even turn into a zombie, just end up a smear of blood and a broken ulna on the sidewalk... Well that sucks... I should probably fix that." No joke. That was my motivation. A look at my survival instincts, and lack there of. Also, I want to learn Parkour. I won't be in the right condition to learn it for probably another year or so, but if I don't start now, it'll be even longer... right? Right.


Next time we'll cover fears, especially fears about working out. And I'll try not to write it while falling asleep at 3am, like I did most of this one. Promise! 

Until then! 'Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.' Thanks for reading! Now go give a stranger a smile! If nothing else, it'll be amusing for you!

Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind

Contemplations of a Fat Girl: The Beginning

     I want to make one thing clear: If you could hear my tone, you'd know I'm not writing this to whine, cry, kvetch, be angry at the world or get down on myself. That's not who I am, although I'm sure that was a big part of my daily life years ago. Probably all at once... Well... not the crying, I've never been big on that.
I don't really feel comfortable writing about this subject toward the general populace either, even if I have a near lifetimes worth of knowledge and anecdotes for it, which flow seamlessly in my head. However, with so many other people who breach the societal weight class, if nothing else, maybe someone reading this will have an 'Oh!' moment or... I think it's the same thing all writers want when sharing their thoughts; they hope that if, for even a second, it will cause someone to think in a different way or feel connected to the subject and thus not so alone, that the embarrassment stemming from sharing a part of themselves so openly will be worth it. So here it goes!

    I wish to introduce to you, myself. I won't tell you my exact weight, but I can tell you it is well over 200 pounds and has been for a good portion of my life. Before high school even. Most people don't believe me, not that they think I look thin, but they don't think I weight so MUCH more than they're guessing. I tell them it's because I'm lucky enough to carry it well, genetically speaking. In the back of my mind though, the thought is, 'if you can't see it as much on the outside, doesn't that mean it's all in my arteries?' It's a chilling realization. I first had it when I was 16. My mum, Lew and I were doing the Atkins diet for almost 4 months when the creator died. He so strongly believed in his methods, that he followed the diet himself, but when they did his autopsy they found his veins completely clogged with fat. Although some of his point were valid, the overall diet was not considered very healthy. That's the rumor I heard. Still, it made me think about my own arteries and had my own 'Oh!' moment (no one said that 'Oh!' moments are always happy ones). Although I was making splendid progress at the time and felt better, more lively, we went off the diet and I lost my confidence again.
Over the years, I haven't gained more than 10-15 pounds more than I weighed then. I know enough about nutrition and health from the various fat camps, nutritionists and classes to keep my ass from burgeoning much wider. I work on my feet, constantly moving and visit a gym across from work regularly now, so that is helping a lot.
I got over my infatuation for candies (mostly taste like chemicals anyway), ice cream and sugary drinks. I still love baked goods and have moved on to alcoholic drinks, which are a type of sugar (not helpful). However, I avoid bringing that stuff home anymore, stockpiling in the fridge with two packages of oreo's sitting, half eaten, on the counter. If I want it, I go out and buy one of something and eat it at the restaurant or on my walk home. Not have enough crap- chips, soda, candy and Safeway bakery cookies- to fill up a trash can or two (which I once did when I realized that things were getting out of control and decided to throw it all away. It was a shocking experience and the right decision in the end, even if I was pouting at myself for being so wasteful the rest of the day. I even thought, 'if I just eat it all now, then there'd be nothing left, it's the same thing'... It is not, by the way). I have a roommate who makes delicious cupcakes though, my control falters a bit there. For instance, I just had a cupcake which is breakfast/lunch for today. I usually forget to eat all together until really late on my days off.

    My first contemplation for all of you is on the beginning of the cycle, the reason on why one becomes fat in the first place, and why, when most of our bodies aren't meant to be that heavy, we stay there- it's almost a desperate insistence.
Let's bullet point some of the reasons for weight gain shall we?

•  Big boned-ness- Genetically speaking, some peoples bodies are meant to carry more weight, their infrastructure allows for it. These people are often time considered heavy or obese by medical scale and societal standards, but that, in no way, means they are unhealthy. In fact, there is a propensity of being reaaaaally fragging strong. But let's be honest, I've even seen my own xrays from dentist offices and such, I'm not big boned. Most people are not, it's a very small amount of the genetic populace actually; Samoans and Eskimos come to mind... Direct descendants of smaller indigenous populations, maybe some Swedes... A genetic mutation or two. It's still a widely used excuse though, because no matter the real reason of your weight, if you can't remember, or have never seen a thinner version of yourself, it's the safest excuse you've got. 
• Childhood trauma- This can be anything from the popular boy in class calling you ugly when you had a crush on him, to (and sadly in many instances) sexual abuse. The range is huge, and when we're children we're very vulnerable; a simple, careless comment from a parents can shadow their kids mind for a lifetime. As we were all kids once, (I'm very sure of this), you know what I'm talking about. Unless we take the time and put in some serious mental effort, or hire some one to help us explore those memories and how they affected us and the many aspects of our growing lives, one may never get past that emotional hump, and so shall their rump remain. Some problems may be considered forever unresolved, especially if it's a delicate family issue, or maybe they're all just THAT stupidly stubborn and want you to keep your head in the sand with them. It's easier than having to wipe all the little bits of sand from ones eyes and actually look at one another. Everyone knows it's a hassle to see stuff and people. Geez. Inside of childhood traumas, we put on the weight (consciously or subconsciously) for several reasons or a mixture of them.
• To hide- as you get fatter, less people notice you, and/or cast you out of their minds because you are fat, it's unpleasant to them. If it's someone who hurt you, and you hope they don't notice you again, then gaining weight and fast is something your mind might actually do for you, depending on the amount of fear you're feeling.
• Comfort- as they say, a lot's of people eat to comfort themselves, kids eat even worse stuff because they associate sweets often with filial love and adoration. Sweets are a treat. They're given to us as kids, especially if you had a mom like mine, sparingly. If you did something good, if you got sick, behaved well at the dentists or optometrists office, if she was just thinking of you and thought that the tootsie pop would make you happy because you had a hard test that day. These aren't just tasty sugary bits to us, they're a smile, a hug, a pat on the back. If something traumatizing happens to a child, they'll seek out what comforts them. If, in the case of a divorce, the child doesn't feel they can talk to their parents, or feels as if the family is falling apart, they will start seeking out that which was comforting, even if it wasn't handed to them by the parent, because even if it is such a simple thing as a snickers bar, there's warmth in the memory, just holding it in your hands makes you feel better. And then, if everyone else is too busy to notice, it can rapidly spin out of control.
• Attention- 'My dad doesn't notice me anymore'. Kids don't think of why that is. Whether he's in midlife crisis or having an affair, struggling at work, struggling in his marriage- it's very likely he doesn't realize his kid sensed a change in his focus at home. But kids are crazy perceptive and even if we don't know or understand all the details, we can sense the change in energies, tone and attention. After all, parents or guardians are usually the only people we see everyday for our adolescent lives, why wouldn't kids know their rhythm? So, to get attention, kids go a couple ways. 
• Emotional- as in either acting out or receding into their own mental space, locking everyone else out so they can't be hurt. 
• Bodily- crazy stunts that send them to the hospital, self mutilation, change of appearance (ie: hair dyeing, piercings, as you get older, tattoos), and, you got it, gaining weight. Because nothing screams please notice me like an extra hundred pounds.
  Most of the time, when it comes to getting attention, the child ceases to care about themselves and is only focused on how to affect their parents attentions. After all, it's only natural that you want someone you've always loved and been loved by to be there with you as you continue growing.

• Anger- because you don't know what else to do, so why not hurt your body to match how much you heart aches? At least you'll feel consistent. The bigger you get, the more justified you'll feel, and with that justification, eventually the pain will stop... right? Under this also falls- To Prove Them Wrong and To Prove Them Right.
• To Feel Grown Up- This one I rather recognize in myself the most. Sure others points play a part, but upon reflection, I can remember actually being happy because one day I noticed that my calves were really big, I'd gained muscle that was more like an adults. I didn't think for a second, (even when I pointed it out to my dad enthusiastically, ignoring the concerned look on his face), that they'd gotten that big because they had to support my weight. Those thoughts don't come later until you take classes like anatomy and learn how the body works or someone points it out... or both... When you're young, you notice that, even if you understand and could add thoughts to an 'adult conversation', they, like the big kids on the neighborhood basketball court, won't let you join in. Why? Because they assume you don't get the subject and wish to continue on without having to possibly break everything down so that a child can understand. Maybe you wanted to grow up because you don't like or understand the kids in your middle school class and the feeling is mutual, but you do like those awesome older people that hang out in front of the bookstore, who casually talk to you like you're a person and seem free and untethered. Perhaps it's because you feel, if you could only grow up a little bit faster, you could change things, have your family rely on you, protect yourself because you don't feel there's anyone around who will do it for you. Thousands of reasons to want to become older, and then that translates to bigger, next thing you know, you're celebrating being only 12 and heavier than your step-mom because she's 125lbs and you're up at 152lbs and can barely fit into her old clothes. That must mean you've grown up, right?

• Your Parents Never Told You "NO!"- Whether it's because they wanted you to feel like you could have everything you ever wanted without showing any restraint or consequences or over-compensating for glitches in the parents own behavior. Possibly they don't understand health and have a unhealthy lifestyle themselves- thinking that a plate lunch of teriyaki chicken, mac salad and rice is healthy- or worse yet, because they just didn't give a flying monkeys banana and the handful of skittles at 10pm got you to leave them alone, some kids grew up eating whatever they want. They have no idea what is healthy and not healthy, what may do serious long term damage or not and frankly, because they are kids and their parents let them get away with it for whatever reason, they don't care. Not as kids, and unless someone, whom they care about in their lives, expresses some major and sincere concern, they will likely never change. I remember when a couple cousins came to visit and stay with my grandparents for a week during summer break. They brought POUNDS of the candies you get from the bin section in a grocery store. The girls were eating it as if it was a food group. Well my grams (who always keeps a full cookie jar and offers ice cream at the end of dinner ever since I can remember, my point being, my grams is not strict against sugar) would not have that sort of behavior in her house, it was too much, and rightly so  confiscated the candy from them. However, despite her best efforts, my cousins began sneaking their candy late at night. I remember how pissed my grams was at them, and their parents for one, giving them the candy in the first place and two that their craving was so strong for it that it had skipped well past 'want' and straight into addiction. Needless to say, she banned sweet anything for the rest of the week and threw everything away.If you don't think this extends into adulthood, you only have to google, 'Woman/Man Freaks Out Over Chicken McNuggets' and you'll see what I mean.
• Adult trauma- Weight gain from adult trauma is much the same as childhood trauma only now we have more knowledge on how to make things bottom out faster, more emotions to pull from to drag one even lower, no parent (usually, because you're probably not living with them, or at least living a separate life from them) to stop us and the income and age to do whatever we damn well please. Unlike childhood trauma, where the kid might not remember anymore what it was like to be more healthy, a previously healthy or at least thinner adult will begin despising their new body and either get themselves down for it in an emotionally abusive way which triggers the comfort response of food again or begins to hate on whoever triggered the change and begins angry eating again. Often times, because of the sudden gain of pounds, the body doesn't know how or where to put the weight and this is where you get those people who only weight 180lbs but look around 300lbs.
• Medical Issues- One boy I knew in my youth and grew up with, was a rather wild and rambunctious character. He was a couple years younger than me but we both liked playing veterinarian with his stuffed animals on his bunk bed. One day, he needed a new kidney. Luckily his mum was a match and everything was successful. However the medication he had to take made him gain a lot of weight. Almost a shocking amount. Later in life, more toward adulthood, he was able to DDR the weight off, but that doesn't mean he won't have to continually fight for his body to stay that way. Even my mum was thin until she had gall stones. Medical issues can ruin the most sculpted and Herculean of bodies. It's sad, and sometimes there's nothing you can do but to remain optimistic, adjust and try. Under this, I would also place diagnosed mental illness and thyroid issues.
• You Just Don't Care- Yes, weirdly enough, there are those who either always tried too hard and now they just want to relax (valid), got into a relationship and now don't think they should have to try anymore (silly), and those that just give up or don't honestly care (get you hormone and chemical levels checked, could be a sign of depression. It's very popular these days). 

    And there you have it! The beginning for most of us. I'm going to stop here for today. All this typing is making my brain feel sluggish from all this engorged contemplation, the sun is setting and I should probably move around and work off that cupcake. Oh, eating dinner might be good too... Honestly, so much to do with so little time.
Thanks for reading! Stay Tuned for Part Two! What will it be about? "The World May Never Know!"

Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind