And no I’m not talking about that monkey you pervs. I used to be a pretty fluffy kid and it sucked. Being fat is never fun. Avoiding any body of water like the plague killed the fish in me. I’d sweat to death sooner than take my shirt off in front of anyone that wasn’t a mirror. Each time a crush of mine tried to get physical I would shy away pretty quickly. I wanted my fatness to remain a secret despite the clear outlines across my shirt. I lived my life in fear of body being exposed in a negative light. So damn stressful and draining to keep that up daily. Just imagine sucking in your stomach for five years straight. No matter how much food you ate that day.
Then I was graced by the French kiss of puberty in 2006 with some assorted sports and changed almost overnight. But I didn’t realize that I had lost a colossal amount of weight. Which means my poor body image issues didn’t dissipate with the fat. So I was still doing the same insecure “un-fattening” practices. Until a crush of mine at the time commented that I looked great and that I lost a lot of weight. Naturally I thought she was just being nice, but then people I never spoke to unless I was forced started commenting. “Surely, they jest,” I thought to myself (yes I was medieval af). Had to have been some type of prank. Somebody was fucking with me and wanted to see me emotionally destroyed in some fashion. I realized it was all true when my parental units started echoing my peers. Despite their polar opposite parenting styles, they usually keep things one hunna.
That journey was traumatic and I still have shitty body image issues to this day despite it largely being unwarranted with the amount of exercise (I try) to do on the regular. Being unhappy with my body was fixable. Probably one of those fixable things in the world. So it kills me to see my sister going down that same path of insecurity, shame, and ridicule in regards to her weight. And it’s infinitely worst for two reasons. Firstly, my sister is headstrong, stubborn, and provocative. Basically the opposite of me. But she’s more sensitive than I am despite her tough exterior. She can dish it (she’s the meanest), but has a hard time taking it. Secondly, she’s a girl and on top of that, she’s a girl of color. So I have no idea how she’s gonna cope with being overweight at her age. Kids are fucking assholes and don’t think about the impact of what they say; that’s expected, their senses of empathy aren’t fully developed. But it could be humbling for her depending how she internalizes it.
My dad’s fucking useless when it comes to this situation. As smart as he is, he’s retarded when it comes to dietary matters. Some of this stems from the fact that he’s not fat, so in his head it means he’s an authority on health. Tell that to the blood pressure pills, insomnia, and physical weakness. He looks gaunt as hell. Anyway, this dietary prodigy believes bread is the enemy, salads make you skinny, and exercising for 10 minutes will slim my sister up in no time. It’s so bad that he won’t let this girl have a legitimate sandwich or burger. She’s only allowed to have one bun…yeah I shit you not. And to top it off, guess what’s mandatory after a meal? Why dessert of course! Let’s counteract these shitty attempts at healthy living with some sugar! Because sugar doesn’t make you fat, let’s be real here. Bread and starches are cardinal sins. Ten Oreos are but a drop in the bucket dude, don’t be a dick. Here have some cake and 3 honey buns.
So it falls to me to do something for this girl. I’m still learning what being a big brother means since I’ve only been one (truly) for about a year and some change. But it’s gonna be nigh impossible in this draconian anti-diet gulag. I can’t challenge my dad on his dietary choices because then he’ll feel threatened and I can’t fuck up my living situation for altruism right now. I can’t take my sister anywhere without him having an opinion on that shit either. “Oh why you doing X Y Z?” Because she’s fat and needs to not be fat. And you’re not helping undo the former, you ol’ Milk Dud head ass nigga. Ugh. Yeah it’s a struggle. Once I get myself situated I’ll prolly take my sister for a couple days and get her into the habit of healthy eating. Exercise is hard one because she’s like me. I hate rote exercise with no real purpose outside of the obvious goal not looking gross. Sports are a great way to placate something feeling like “exercise” instead of just being fun and tiring. Those opportunities aren’t always available though.
Swimming was her thing all summer, but for whatever reason she’s not enrolled in the swimming classes anymore. A friend of mine said that would be a perfect activity to slim sis down while being entertaining. I mean I can’t swim (yes terrible, I know) so I may not be the best option for this venture, but I’m willing to learn for ze greater good (and so I can not die in 8 feet). Most of me wants to make this a private venture and some of me wants to include my dad in this, but I just know he’s gonna be stupid about it. This summer is gonna be the summer I do it though. Gotta get sis slimmed down before high school rolls around because it’s only going to get worse. Being overweight does not need to get added to the laundry list of bullshit she’ll experience in them teenage years. I’m gonna need a lotttt of popcorn. I can’t wait.
On top of the obvious reasons, I want to instill within my beloved sibling the importance of taking care of herself and that ultimately she is the only one that can make those determinations. Also dispelling the notion that black women are doomed to inevitable obesity. As if it’s a genetic condition that cannot be cured. Somebody fucked up when drafting the lexicon in the black community in regards to my black women and fitness. *Incoming bias* A fit black woman shits on 80% of all other women. There I said it. Everything I care about is still plump and delicious while the rest of her is slim and on point. Of course all my sistas are prizes to behold on the Slim-Thick scale, don’t trip (drool). That’s not to say that anybody in shape doesn’t look desirable. It’s no secret that they do. It’s a primal thing. I like em fertile and fit. Well maybe not too fertile. I’m definitely not ready to raise a fit family yet. This bowl of Cap’n Crunch resonates with me a little too much.