(Edit: I truly apologize to anyone who was subjected to that “unidentifed individual”s rant this morning. It took me a bit to get past the hurt and once again, privacy invasion…and remember that I have control over my own comment section. So, problem solved, and my last bastion of privacy and self-expression defended. *sighs* On the bright side, I went from 6 vph (views per hour) to 21, so in the long run, she actually did me a favor! *g*)
I’ve been told that I intimidate people. My 8 yr. old nephew is so afraid of me that his psychiatrist has forbidden him to be around me. What?? I want to be a 5yr. old, or a little pup or kitten….no matter what I do, in situations where my body can’t be seen, I get called cute, adorable, etc. How does that intimidate?
Easy. Because out here, I weigh over 300 lbs., and my family, 4 step-siblings, inherited my dads slight, short, size. I was 3 months old when my mom married my father. My real father? Well, there are three or four choices, but the one that is the most logical, both from ethnic similarities and from time and availability options, is pure Hawaiian. So, my size is genetically logical, and since I helped nature along at the age of 14 or so after a particularly bad thing happened…
So…now I intimidate people. Like I needed another reason for physical people to dislike me. I mean, I thought disgust, I thought disdain, I thought simple amplitude resentment…(I understand that one…two seats on the bus, too big for amusement park rides, etc.) But I am so…timid. I’m -very- afraid of authority figures…and to me, that means everyone down to the cashier at the checkout window…anyone…well, normal. Anyone who has been able to be normal long enough to have a real job, in a real place, has so much more real life, so much power over the world, that I am petrified of dealing with them. And don’t get me started on anyone who’s had children…the power there…*shudders*
If it’s my size…how do I stop intimidating people? Never go around anyone? Stay locked in my windowless room, tapping away at my real world? I don’t know what to do. I can’t stand the thought that my physical presence -scares- people. That people are -afraid- of me. I’ve never dealt with that…ever.
My family fought…I mean physically fought…a lot. My dad has what I like to call “Little Man Syndrome” or LMS for short. This generally reveals itself in overdoing of substances…in my dad’s case alcohol and now cigarets…and a horrendous temper. Unfortunately, my step-siblings inherited that rage, and they like to express it…a lot. Now that we’re older (43 – 32?) it tends to come out more in words than fists, but when we were younger…whew. Not a window, screen, wall or door was safe from the kicking squalling ball of fury that was my siblings and I (in absence of parents, obviously).
But although they were so much “smaller” than I, and skinny to my already burgeoning thick…they beat the crap out of me, because I was afraid to hurt someone. I feel it, whenever I hurt someone. You know that stupid saying about “This is going to hurt me more than you.”? Well, unfortunately, for me, it’s true. And so now…I’m hearing that I scare people. I’m so confused…. *sighs*
Frantic and flailing, panicked and pained,
she moves through her day like a whirlwind in chains,
Her body is fragile, and so is her heart,
her eyes burn in her face as they scamper and dart,
Her mind searches, desperate, for something she’s lost,
letting the ones she has left pay the cost.
Constant apologies fall from her lips,
as she races, and runs, and falters and trips,
One day she’ll fall where there’s nowhere to land,
and I’ll lose yet another, a thought I can’t stand,
But for now I’ll stay constant, and help where I must,
and try not to watch as she crumbles to dust.