Sun, joy and hope fade, with the coming of the pain that is the night. The pain casts overwhelming shadows, that darken what would be otherwise, the light of day. Light, dark, conflict deep within. How does one live with what was, when it often appears to be again? Is there any comfort in knowing that what was, to some dimensional degree was, and that what is, primarily, is? Does it follow then, as night does the day, and light does the dark, that what is now will either extinct itself, or endure a magnificient metamorphisis; that what is won't always have to be?
Walls, layers of fat, precious protection from the hurricane-gale-like forces of the winds of change. How can the pain change? Food and pain, reliable companions compressing our comfort and ability to live, to function, to be accepted, loved and valued. Why? Why have I needed to be fat? Do I still need to be fat? Why does my fat scare the world so? There are many big realities in life, and yet the presence of a big person, somehow is denied, devalued, and disengaged.
The fat longs to scream here I am, I need you to love me too, because I am the outside, the parent of your pain, and love you is all I ever tried to do. I turn to mush at the mere mention that I am somehow the reason for all of your touching torment. I, fat, can't handle that! I feel abandoned by you, so I will hold on tighter, try me, I won't let you get lighter. I, fat, say to you, plead with you, work with me, not against me, love me, love me: love me, cause, I, am you. You are me, this is the only way to work it out you see.
Precious pain, motivating monster, huge, eyes red, wrinkled and frought with the agony that my fat has wrought. It's just a cover inside of which is a broken-hearted lover. The abyss of angst, agony atrophied around our the core, cries out to you and I that if we learn to love and value ourselves we just won't need the fat anymore. The myth of the monster and all who are thin, is that if you are fat you can't love yourself until you get thin and win. The pretentious positive pain decrees the only way to win the battle and the war is to love, love yourself now, fat and all, because the acceptance of it invites in a friend, and to war with a friend is to act in vain.
We may share various amounts of fat, and there are many differences among us, but the common denomenator distinguishing each of us is the fact of the fat, fickle friendly foe, fancied by society as unfitting. Don't let that raucous reality define your relationship to self. The isolated pain that we, alone-together feel focuses too much on the facts fundamental to fat; and not enough on the searching soul soaring to surface the essence of who you are and I am and the magical marvels that slay the monster day after day, inspite of what it is that the world continues to say.
My dream, my wish, for all, is not about any number, or body size it's that we learn love and be true to the pain that teaches us to look inside and within our spirits, touching the face of God, abundantly enabling us to find joy, peace, and to self-actualize.
© 1996 A.J. Mahari
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