The Fat Boy Chronicles (19 page)

I mean, I know teachers, at least most of them, are dedicated and want to help kids and everything, but I still feel sorry for them, because most kids don't really appreciate what teachers are trying to do. They just want to get good grades, even if they have to cheat, so their parents don't give them a hard time. I mean, my parents really like that I get good grades, but they don't pressure me like I've seen some parents do. Maybe because they know I'm one of those kids teachers call self-motivated.

And things come easy to me. Like math. I think that's why I was chosen to tutor Robb Thuman. Me, of all people. He was starting quarterback on the football team this year and has been offered a football scholarship to Bowling Green. He needs to pass Algebra I and Algebra II to graduate—he never made up his Algebra I class and he's barely passing Algebra II. Since Robb's in my math class, Mr. L asked me to tutor him. At first, Robb was a real jerk—almost as bad as he was earlier in the year—but when he saw I really could help him, he kinda eased up and started joking around about how clueless he is in math. “Man, I never could get this stuff. Teachers go way too fast for me. On the field, it's easy—in here, it's like I've got mush for brains.” I keep telling him he can get it if he practices, just like he practices football.

“I can't practice by myself; I need a coach.” Then I even offered to help him after school, but I would need a ride home. He suggested that he come by my house later, after he drops his girlfriend off. “I have to pass this class, man, or I'll lose my scholarship. I'll do whatever it takes. Carly and I usually hang out after school, but I'll drop her off and then come by for an hour, if that's okay.”

“Sometimes, I have to stay after for band practice, but otherwise that'll work.”

“Maybe we can work out some. I'll help you get in shape, and you help me get smarter. I can't believe you're the same kid who ran around with his boobs hanging out earlier this year.”

Man, things really have changed. The star football player of Hanover High is asking ME if I want to work out with him.

Saturday, 4–7

Can't believe it's time for spring break already. We're not going anywhere this year—my parents are trying to save more money for my sister's and my college education. My dad says we only can take two vacations a year—one at Thanksgiving and one in the summer. I don't mind, 'cause that means I'll have plenty of time for working out and my music. My sister's all moody though, because some of the juniors are allowed to go to Destin by themselves and rent hotel rooms on the beach. But my mother said, “No way!” Robb's going though—that's all he's been talking about for weeks. I told him not to forget everything we worked on. I can't see my parents letting me go anywhere that's not chaperoned, especially a place that's a thousand miles away and full of drunken kids. Maybe that's where Paul is—on the beach having a perpetual (Sable taught me that word) spring break.

Monday, 4–9

Sable called and said she's coming back to school right after the break. She sounded happy and rested, but I could tell she was embarrassed about what happened. “The doctors said I could have died. I didn't realize how deeply I cut myself—that's never happened before. Guess I'm lucky, huh?”

Sable said she's been in counseling every day and is learning that her cutting has nothing to do with her parents or her brother. It's
because of something that had happened to her as a little girl that she never told her parents about. She's still not sure she wants to tell them, but at least the doctor is helping her sort things out. All her parents do is cry and feel guilty. They can't believe how long she's been a cutter and they didn't even notice. Sable said she heard some of the nurses whispering about her mother and she let them have it. She used the word “confronted.”

“How would you like to have a kid who has to read signs just to go to the bathroom? Not just once, but every time he goes. It's not easy. My mother does the best she can. She's too busy working and taking care of a husband and two kids to stick her nose in other people's business. You're nothing more than a conceited bunch of scandalmongers.” I have to give it to Sable. She knows a bunch of really cool words.

I asked her if she was cured of her cutting disease. She said she has a long way to go, but at least she has a chance.

Thursday, 4–12

Guess what? Robb came back from Destin early. He and his roommates trashed their hotel room and were fined for damages. They came home because they ran out of money. Robb asked if I wanted to come over and hang out, watch a movie, anything but math. After my dad dropped me off, Robb said I should just spend the night so my dad doesn't have to drive again.

“Can't this time,” I said. “I have church in the morning.”

“Can't you skip it this once?”

“Not really. The minister said he needed to talk to me about something very important. He said to make sure I show up. Man, you look like hell,” I told Robb.

“That's the first time I've ever heard you curse, dude. What's with you?”

“Nothing. That's the best way to describe how you look.”

Robb tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he wasn't real happy about the wall–to–wall zits on his face. “Must have been all the vodka I drank. I think I'm allergic or something. My parents are making me go to the skin doctor tomorrow. Hey, you want to put a pizza in or something?”

Robb seemed glad to hang out with me; he ignored all his phone calls, even the ones from Carly. “Destin was fun and all, but it sure is good to get home—we had eight guys in a room and only three towels. It got nasty after a few days. I think I drank enough to last me for three spring breaks.”

“Did something happen with you and Carly?”

“Don't mention that bitch's name to me.” Then Robb went on about how Carly got drunk every night and flirted with every guy who looked at her. And how she got in a wet t–shirt contest and you could see everything. Then he caught her with some redneck who was way older than she is.

“That did it, man. I'm through with that little tramp. Man, that really killed me.” Then he put his fists on his head, and I thought he was going to cry. “I loved her, Jimmy. At least I thought I did. And she goes and does this to me.”

Robb didn't bring her name up again. We played XBOX for a couple of hours, ate pizza, then my dad came and got me.

Sunday, 4–15

Today at church, my youth minister asked me to give a talk about all the weight I lost and how my faith helped me. He said he wanted me to speak spontaneously, from the heart and all. So, before I had time to think about it, there I was standing in front of Sable and the rest of the kids in my group with the minister smiling, saying, “Jimmy's going to speak today. His is a story of how faith in God can turn your life around.”

All the kids started clapping and cheering, which gave me a minute to think about what I was going to say. The minister said to speak from the heart, and so I did. Sable recorded my talk and I transcribed some of it here. Hope this counts as a journal entry. Anyway, here goes:

“Hey, guys, thanks for the applause.” (I take a deep breath here.) “I'm not sure my faith in God helped me with my weight loss, but my faith in God gave me faith in myself. Even when I was really big, and kids and adults laughed at me or didn't want anything to do with me, God always made me feel that I was a good person. That what I was on the outside didn't take away from who I was on the inside—a normal kid who just wanted to fit in. A kid who liked school, despite his tormentors, a kid with
a family that really cared about him, a kid who wished he could play sports and loved video games. You guys really helped me a lot too. Some of you have known me ever since I was a little kid, and no matter how big I got you guys always accepted me. Maybe that's because you knew me as Jimmy, not as a fat freak. Our pastor spoke often at church about ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,' and I guess you all took that to heart.

“I don't understand people who judge others—God made us all different so we wouldn't get bored here on earth. Since there are no two people exactly alike, you could spend your whole life judging. Isn't that what judging is all about anyway? Putting down people because they are different from you? But everybody's different, so it makes no sense to me. Of course, I was different from other kids in a BIG way.” (Laughter)

“So I guess it was easier to judge me than most kids. It was when that judging turned into out–and–out meanness that I almost lost hope and faith in God. I even considered killing myself, but not for more than a few hours. God got in the middle of all that and saved me. He didn't speak to me directly, but he spoke to me through one of my best friends. God showed me that my problems were very small compared to other people's problems, like my friend Paul, who you all know. He faced bigger problems than me, problems harder to solve than losing weight. Another one of my friends couldn't keep from hurting herself, and in helping her, I learned to help myself. I realized that overeating was just as bad, not in the same way, but with the same consequences. So with the help of God, my parents, and
my friends. I began to take care of my body. The kids picking on me didn't matter any more; what mattered was the realization that I was killing myself, only in a slow way. Suddenly, I didn't want to do that anymore. I had too much to live for. I wanted to feel good, try out for sports, learn about the world, but most of all, to be in good enough shape to do the things kids are supposed to do. Before I lost weight, I couldn't run, couldn't dive in a pool, couldn't climb the Sleeping Bear Dunes with my family, and I would never be able to fly across the rain forest on a zip line, something I've always wanted to do.

“So, you can see, I've almost achieved my goal—And to be honest, I'm not sure how I got to be so big in the first place. All I remember is playing video games, learning my saxophone and then I look around and I'm a big, fat somebody else. My fat was a great big security blanket which kept me from participating in the world. But I thank God my family supports me; my parents are great people and would do anything for me. But sometimes things happen to us because they just happen. It's up to us not to blame anyone or give up. It's up to us to ask God for help to change our lives and get back on the right track. And that's what I learned from being a big, fat kid.” (Applause) (“Way to go, Jimmy!”)

Wednesday, 4–18

I've almost reached my goal, sixty pounds less of Jimmy. If I stand on the scale just right, I weigh 148 pounds—that's a loss of forty-seven pounds. Only thirteen pounds to go. I can't believe I managed to lose all that weight. All my teachers have commented on how good I look, even you. Thanks for the compliment, Mrs. Pope. The funniest thing that happened was when I went down to the gym to work out one day after school. (I had a couple hours to kill before a jazz concert). Coach Bronner walked by and when I said “Hey,” he stopped, trying to figure out who I was. “Do I know you, son?” he asked.

“I'm Jimmy Winterpock,” I said. “Remember me, from PE? I'm the fat kid that everyone made fun of. Only I'm not so fat anymore.”

“No kidding,” he said. “You look great, Jimmy. You don't look like the same kid. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. ”

“Well, I did get contacts,” I said.

Coach laughed. “You got more than that.” He patted me on the back. “Way to go, Jimmy. You won the game.” He stared at me for a minute. “You need a spotter?”

“That'd be cool,” I said.

Things have been happening to me like this a lot lately. I'm still the same kid on the inside, but my outside is different. Sometimes I look in the mirror and don't recognize the kid standing in front of me. The biggest change is in my face and chest. I've lost my “man
boobs” and you can actually see the bones in my face. My balloon face has deflated into one with actual features. I catch my mom staring at me in the mornings when I'm at the breakfast table. My sister doesn't try to hide her astonishment. She puts her hands on my face and punches my back and keeps saying, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You did it. You really did it.” But I understand. I can hardly believe it myself when I look into the mirror.

Thursday, 4–19

I can't believe spring break's over and we've been back in school for three days already. Robb's really scared, because he thinks he's forgotten everything he learned. We know he can do the problems when I'm there with him, but he says he's going to panic during the exam. “I just don't do well on tests. I don't care how well I know it, my mind blanks out. It gets all quiet and the teacher watches me like a hawk and it just freaks me out.”

I told Robb he needs to pretend he's sitting at his kitchen table and forget about everything else. He had the brilliant idea of pretending he was in a classroom while doing problems at his kitchen table. He made his mom and dad leave the kitchen while I sat there staring at him like I was Mr. L, with puckered lips, bugged eyes and all. That didn't work very well because we both kept cracking up. Now Robb says he's going to crack up when Mr. L gives him the evil eye during tests. I told him I think that's better than sitting there all nervous. He said I just might have a point.

Saturday, 4–21

Yesterday, I went to the school baseball game with my dad. It was a great afternoon for a game since it wasn't as hot as last week. People know I've lost a lot of weight and I can see them looking. I can even sense that my dad is proud of me, but he never says much in public about it. We sat behind the screen on the third base side, where our team's dugout is. One neat thing is that the guy who threw out the first pitch was one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. I don't think he has ever played ball before, but he got it pretty close to the catcher. Everyone cheered for him when they announced him. My dad told me his story during the first inning. I can't imagine walking 1200 miles barefoot while being chased by lions and hyenas. The kid was tall and thin and his skin was the color of coal. His baseball hat was way too big and it hung down on his ears but he smiled a big smile anyway. When he walked by, I shook his hand. He seemed very gentle and from what Dad had told me about the Lost Boys, I think my struggle was nothing compared to his.