This is one blog article I started to write before I went into hospital. I decided to postpone it until afterwards, because I didn't want my final cyber-words to be ones of negativity if things did go wrong. The surgery was a success and now I feel able to voice my thoughts on the subject that has been very much a part of my life since I can remember. Belly bashers!

Growing up in a relatively privileged way, my early years of verbal abuse were pretty much limited to the playground, as most are. My nickname at school for a while was Ben the Bubble. Pretty lame and innocuous really, but when delivered with spite by all and sundry at an all boys school, it caused quite a large amount of distress. To be honest, my self-awareness was so low in those days, they could have called me "bathroom tile" and it would have hurt as much. It was simply the hateful delivery that always got me.

Going home from school to be comforted was always the option I chose to get through...despite my size (upwards and outwards) I was quite a sensitive soul, so fighting for my pride was never an option. "Ben the Bubble?" questioned my mother. "Bubbles are lovely, bubbles come from champagne!". It wasn't until years later, when becoming a lover of all things alcoholic, that I really understood or appreciated that sentiment.

As I reached sexual awareness that the comments and constant digs really started to kick in. I know, typical man! But, I imagine the same goes for woman-kind.

Adolescence was the time that I really started to care what people thought of me physically and when my emotions where truly being developed; when they were at their most fragile. And, with the way of the world, this is when people's remarks started to get more vicious. Nice timing.

As is the case with most people who feel the need to bully others across the world, the people who bothered me were never ones you would consider intelligent. In fact, it is fair to say that the people who abused the hardest were the most stupid. I guess it is a titanic lack of social unawareness and an even greater inferiority complex that urged them on. If they could make me more upset about myself than they were about themselves, that would mean (in the great scheme of things) they were happier. Unfortunately, what bullies lack in brain power, they have in numbers and venom.

The easiest thing for me to cope with was the aforementioned intellectual prowess in the delivery of their scorn. I mean, it doesn't take Einstein to come up with "fat bastard" or "tubby c**t". In fact, I haven't ever heard a jibe directed at me that has ever made me deliver a mental score card of over two out of a hundred. There have been some pretty excellent jokes created on the subject in film and television but, in the necessity of a speedy jibe, the aggressors tend to opt for the more direct and easy to remember ones. Generally those under three syllables.

I'm not entirely sure why overweight people are picked on so much. Perhaps we make bigger targets? Perhaps we are seen to be too lazy to chase after someone who upsets us? Certainly too greedy to put down our chicken wings to throw a punch.

I guess it is the blot we cause on the wonderful society we live in. All fat people, by their very nature, are obviously so carefree about their bodies that they couldn't possibly wash and therefore smell horribly of sweat and even worse. Of course - this is utter nonsense. The vast majority of the body odour I have ever encountered has emanated from "normal" sized people, who are so worried about what other people smell like, that they forget themselves. It seems that, in the real world, us lardites are fully aware that extra skin needs more attention and we cater for such - sometimes I even admit over compensating with a few more spoonfuls of cologne than most humans can stand.

If not the smell - then it has to be grotesque way we ruin the vistas of an otherwise beautiful world. Stand me at a bar full of svelte supermodels and muscle men and the whole scene is ruined for everyone. People get up from their chairs and leave their favourite drinking hole throwing up because the sea of beauty has been tarnished with the sludge of a sphincterless whale. Shame on me. Oh no - wait, it can't be that. I seem to remember most bars I have frequented have been littered with some of the most repugnant abusive assholes, throwing amazingly quite and witty jibes about my size at me - I still stand astounded and amazed at the ingenuity of "blubbery twat".

Simply put - these narrow minded Neanderthal people have such a poor view of themselves that they pick on people who the believe pose no threat to them and will roll with the punches like all us chubby funsters (to quote Ricky Gervais - a surprisingly fattist fatty).

I won't say it's not my fault that I'm morbidly obese (actually - today I stepped out into the simply obese category - but as it would currently take a small lollipop to tip me over, I will stay on the bigger side for the purposes of this rant). I also won't also pretend that my life would have been totally amazing without the name calling and aggressive comments that have been hurled at me - no, that would be all too much of a lie.

However, what I will say is that at the point that I realised how bad this all was for me, I was already there. My way to normal was blocked by the ties of this most frustrating condition. So very blocked, that I found it an physical and mental impossibility to change my ways permanently. I did try and I tried very hard. But I failed...and got heavier. So there I was - fat and not very proud. My will power alone just wasn't up to the job. Even if it meant that I had to spend my days living with the barrage of arrows that were thrown my way to make other more figure-fortunate people comfortable with their own lives.

So, I developed quite a hatred for these people. I'm a human being with the normal human feelings most people have - including vengeance. I wish them all the pain that the delivered to me and to be dished back at them a hundred-fold. Being as I am, that is my nature and it's where I stand. Not entirely honourable I know - but this set of gurglings I have decided to throw together is designed to be a therapeutic release for me and it would be pointless of me to pretend to be an other-worldly saint who forgave everyone - for they knew not what they did. I sit and write this as a small punch back at them because I know most of them knew damn well what they did. I do wish to "let it go" with time - and maybe I will as I push myself further away from the firing line. It's probably healthier that way!

Most of the people who read this blog are people in my position having decided to undergo weight loss surgery or are making that decision now. Most of the people reading this are simply reliving exactly what they have been through their entire lives. Most of the people that read this will be some of the most unassuming pleasant people around, because of how they have had to grow up under a tirade of readily accepted banter, designed to tear them apart and amuse or satisfy others. Most of the people that read this will also be aware, that they are reading this without the danger of bumping into a anti-fatty browsing through the pages. I mean, would they have really made it past the word "negativity" in the first sentence? Come on - it's five syllables long!

Here endeth my negativity...amen.

Originally posted at:

Do you feel better now Ben? So now put it in a small coffin and bury it, never to be seen again. Or dig a hole and set it on fire. You could make a list of all the people that have made you feel this way and then set that one fire. No, wait, PEE ON IT FIRST! LOL

You are on your way to show them up! On to other obstacles. For me, I fear being angry (when I'm skinny) at the people who treat me nice when I know they wouldn't give me the time of day when I was big. Or getting that promotion that I should have gotten years ago but didn't "fit" the image--I just don't have the look! Will I really want the promotion then??

Don't worry, Ben, we will have plenty of times for verbal vomit as we get smaller and smaller. Not to be a downer, but we all have to bitch once in a while, especially when it's in a safe place like here.

My blackness has duly had its burial procession. Hidden at the back of an unvisited and unkept cemetary. I just couldn't go out without giving one final "up yours"!

Thanks spud.mama!