DEAR DIARY,
When I was a kid, there were several drive-in movie theaters. I remember seeing some classics on those big white screens, with a crackling speaker that hung precariously from the window. Kids sitting on top of the cars with pillows and blankets, while the parents desperately tried to recapture the glorious dating days of LBF (Life before kids).
The playground was always full of kids running amuck with no supervision whatsoever. The snack bar was coated in the smell of cotton candy, and buttered popcorn. People buzzed with the latest gossip while waiting in line to gorge themselves on the most calorie laden, sinfully delicious and completely void of nutrition food items on the planet.
The grounds were well kept, the bathrooms seemed shiny and new. It was a great place to socialize and and catch up on what Hollywood had to offer at that moment and time. Lots of memories to make and I looked forward to those outings with my family and friends.
Most of those cinematic institutions have long since closed down. Those big white screens, and cultivated rows of metal poles that held those crackling speakers, all mowed down. The gossip of the day now discussed on various social media platforms. An entire era all but destroyed by the march of time and progress.
All but one.
As I was driving down the freeway this morning, I glanced over at the last connection I had to those days of my youth. The only difference is that it’s seen better days. For lack of a better words, it looked derelict and abandoned. You would never know it was still a functioning theater. The only clue you have is a big yellow banner on the back of one of the screens that reads "STILL OPEN!" in big black letters.
After reading the sign and seeing the state of disrepair the place was in, I couldn’t help but think to myself "That’s me." A person who is still alive and has a lot to give. A person who has memories to make and share. But one who has also neglected their outside appearance, and looks like they have given up on life. And, like that banner, I want to shout to the world "Hey! Goddam it! I am still here. I haven't given up! I am doing something to change my life!" That’s what I’m screaming on the inside. Unfortunately, the outside tells the world a different story.
Now that I’m at a certain size, it becomes difficult for me to rationalize my own worth sometimes. My ability to participate in the world has become seriously limited. I can't play sports or sit in a booth at a restaurant. Flying in planes is cramped and problematic. Roller coasters are a thing of the past for me, and when I eat in public I can feel the judgement flying at me, regardless of whether I’m eating healthy or not. I hate to think of what would happen if I had to rush up flights of stairs to help my family get out of a burning building.
All that being said, I know I’m a worth while human being and for the most part I really don't give a crap about what people think. I think maybe that’s why I don't really give a crap about the way I look sometimes. I let my beard grow out, and wear whatever I have that’s clean without thought of style color or whether or not it even looks good on me. When I do this, I look 10 years older than I really am. Certainly not a statement that says, I care about myself. That has to change.
Now, I am on the right track. I am working on really starting to care about me and being around for years to come. But I need to show the world that I’m a POS (Person of Size) not a POS (Piece of Shit), and that I do care about how I look. I don't need to hang a sign around my neck.
So, unlike that poor little drive-in, I’ll make those much needed cosmetic repairs. While I work on the inside, I’ll work on the outside. Not only to feel better about my journey, but to let the world know that I’m a human being. Not a size.
Until next time,