Gone Forever?

Prompt: Your character wants something they can’t (or shouldn’t) have.

Gone Forever?

I was not one of those babies born with a golden spoon in my mouth. My mother was a crackhead. I was born in an alley on the west side of Chicago. She left me in a cardboard box as an appetizer for some feral animal. Thankfully, a homeless woman found me and raised me for a while until child services took custody of me.

Truthfully, this never happened to me. Maybe this is someone else’s story, but certainly not mine. I was born into a wealthy family. I had a nanny to take care of me. I was the only child, so I was always catered to by my nanny or a paid babysitter.

At birth my mother doted on me by trying her hand at breastfeeding. That nurturing act cost her big time with her figure. Prior to her pregnancy she was a fashion model. But her nursing child changed all that.

It’s easy to remember my first meal when I was a baby. My mother continually reminds me about it by complaining about her sagging breasts. She complains that none of the brassieres in the store would fit her to give her the support she needed for her aching back. I was the reason she lost her career as a model. She would often tell her friends stories about my voracious appetite for her milk. She tried various fillers like instant rice, cornstarch and instant oatmeal. One would think something like this would have worked but nothing satiated me. I wailed constantly when she tried to wean me off herself. Fortunately, I outgrew the breast and bottle graduating to the spoon and fork. That change in my eating behaviors did wonders for spreading the circumference of my girth. Simply put I became immense, huge, gargantuan.

At the age of eight I was at a burgeoning weight of three hundred pounds. I couldn’t do much physically, so I became a prolific reader. I still amply ate to assuage my nervous tendency to eat. I did this out of sight. I also played into my mother’s need for peace and quiet. I would scream bloody murder if I did not get something to eat right away. It worked. At nine I was at three hundred fifty pounds.

Instinctively, I knew I had to do something. I taught myself how to read at a tenth-grade level at the age of eight. I had to. I was bored and it helped me keep food out of my mouth. My parents decided to have me home schooled. They claimed it was because of the difficulty of transporting me to and from a school. I instinctively knew however that they were really ashamed of me to be out in public. Nonetheless, they managed to effectively get me to every doctor appointment. So, what little self-respect I had, I mustered my energy into my self-education.

Fortunately for my parents I was the only child. I became the object of their spare time, energy and financial cash outlay. I was their “pet” project to make me look like a normal child. Instead of making friends with the neighbors so I could have a friend, my parents spent a lot of time charting a course of weight reduction. Through my formative years I saw all sorts of professionals. Meanwhile, all I wanted was to have some friends. I had my books, the television and limited phone access with no social media. Who was I going to call anyway? But I had no one my age to talk to, to have fun with, or to share secrets. I was an “island unto myself.” Much like Tom Hanks in the movie “Cast Away”, I was stranded on an island but made up of adipose tissue. Even if I went out publicly, society would still cast me away because I was morbidly obese. People don’t want to see freaks, especially a freak most people think was self-induced.

Two of my parents’ favorite medical doctors were a psychiatrist and a psychologist. Their last name was Schnucklehead, first names were Leroy and Marvin. They were brothers and twins. Naturally, they were in practice together. My parents liked them so much they never objected to hauling me in the van to their office. They felt if these doctors could not help their son, then no one could. So, the course of treatment began. Psychoanalysis was their favorite tool, but as a young lad I did not have much to say.

As I got older, I wondered if these guys were breech at birth suffering some oxygen deprivation. Given their wacky, unpredictable behavior coupled with erotic tendencies seemed to be clues to their apparent brain damage. (Remember I was reading a lot). Their office was decorated in Freud motif. I had to sit on a fuzzy couch decorated with red hearts and mini phallic symbols. Crazy statues of naked women stood in their lobby and Rorschach plots lined the wall of their office. It was really unnerving early on, especially as I entered puberty having my parents in the room.

They tried their best to cajole, sweet-talk and even threaten me into losing weight. I acknowledged their ideas, but deep down I resented them. I was the perfect patient who affirmed the doctors but behind their backs I rejected any of their therapies.

I was getting old enough that I didn’t require my parents to remain with me during the office visits with the Schnucklehead brothers. I was now sixteen weighing a paltry four hundred pounds. I met with them twice a week. First day was with Doc Leroy; the other with Doc Marvin. I thought to myself today was the day I would emancipate myself from these guys. I would tell them to back off and I will do it without their intervention. Afterall, I had been gaining weight, not losing it. Today I was going to meet with them together. I was really ready. I felt I had a plan in place as I strolled over to that erotic couch of theirs.

“Hey Doc Leroy, hey Doc Marvin. How goes it today?”

In heavy accented voices, both doctors collectively said, “Hello, my boy. Are you feeling good today? Are you losing some weight?”

Dr. Marvin added, “I see the pills are not working all that well. We are running out of opts my boy. If you don’t lose some weight how is anyone in society going to interact with you without bias? You will die a frivolous, sad death because you are so heavy.”

Dr. Leroy quipped, “My boy, the gastric sleeve has failed you. Your liquid diet has not worked. You have a stubborn fat. You are just weak willed. You are a failure to yourself, and to your parents. And our methods have failed you.”

I responded in a strong voice, “I have devised my own plan. I no longer wish to see you ever again. "Looking them directly in their eyes, I said,

“Today, Doctors, I have decided to lose my weight on my efforts. You have failed me with your mumbo-jumbo psychoanalysis; your diet pills that cause side effects; your suggestions to wire my jaw shut; your actions to shrink my stomach and or remove some of my intestine surgically. You drag me through this quagmire of medical sludge with no consideration for my persona, my soul! You blame my genetics! You blame my parents! You blame my lack of will power! You blame the quality of food in the marketplace! You blame obesogens used in the food supply! Never once did you explore the innermost depth of my feelings. You never explored the deep-seated need for sincere companionship. You never sought to discover the agape love I needed for myself. You have labelled me a failure!”

The doctors were wide eyed at hearing my discourse. Their mouths were wide open; they remained speechless.

“All I really want is to have my time back. I want my youth to do over again. I want to be a child who can make friends and play like other children. Unfortunately, I will never gain that back in this life. It is lost forever. But I have my future now. My future holds an eternity as a special child.”

I continued on.

“Doctors, you are schmucks. I am not a failure. Maybe if you cared you would have asked me about my interests. I am a prolific reader. I have read all kinds of psychology, philosophy, theology, and all other ology books you could think of. Yet there is one book that gave me the reassurance of a future life even if I am unable to lose the obsessive amount of weight inflicted upon me. I may never lose enough weight to reach my target weight, but I rest on the reassurance that my soul does not depend on my efforts to love myself. I found someone who unconditionally accepts me. I finally found this friend. I found someone who considers me His child. I am not a lost cause. I have an amazing future even now and beyond this life. Actually, He found me.”

I opened a book and read the following passage out loud to them:

“Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has become a child of God. And everyone who loves the Father loves His children too. (1)

“Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called the children of God! Therefore, the world does not know us, because it did not know Him.” (2)

“Do you know Him, doctors? Though I am so morbidly overweight, I will always be safe in His loving arms. He has saved me from myself.

-END-

(1) 1 John 5:1, NLT

(2) 1 John 3:1, NKJV

NLT=New Living Translation

NKJV-New King James Version

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedysprompts.com