Big meets small

I've just kept thinking about Mr. Big. I hope he's safely somewhere away from the rain and the staring, and although I know I should heed my own advice, I wish he'd try and do something about himself. With that weight, medical complications run high, risks run even higher. I am nobody to tell anybody something, least of all big me advising another big man. I just would like to maybe see him somewhere again, at his rate, I think he's like a time bomb. But of course I know the million reasons which make us big. It includes food of course (do not believe anybody who says food isn't part of it), it also could include an under active thyroid, steroids and many other things. But mostly it's because we get to a 100 kg (which isn't that bad at all) and suddenly we're so ashamed of ourselves that we self harm ourselves through food. We don't like the mirror anymore and people do not understand, so we eat some more, and more, and the weight just piles up. Then we go on so many diets but keep none of them, or as I do, go on a diet, half the weight only to double it up all again. It's a difficult thing this weight problem. And no it's not because we're lazy people who like to sit on our ever growing butt all day long. But suddenly we start becoming restricted to physical things like stairs, hills, and the mountains put right at our feet by some asshole. What is even worse is, that through my biggy experience it seems that small people (in size and weight) think they have the damn right to lecture us when they are strangers. Most of us do not hate smaller people, but quite a lot smaller people hate us and would holocaust us without a second thought. Please do not say it's in my imagination, I've lived it, and it's just what happens. Perhaps we big ones give out a vibe of some sort, it doesn't happen so much now, if I get a stare, I stare back, and the initial starer turns red and flees the scene. It takes a lot of hard work to arrive at this stage, to stop apologising for yourself. But every time I see a sad act of someone bullying a big person just because they're big, I always, always, without fail remember someone else; someone who is definitely not big by body weight but so big in everything else. Walking into a new school only to find a superior three times less my size wasn't a very easy thing. I was taken aback, I really thought I was going to be in for a lot of weight-related jokes, because this man wasn't big in size. So I didn't like it much, not that I didn't like the man, but I felt so much bigger next to him. I felt thrown into the world named Uncomfortable, created just for me for the occasion. I couldn't have been more wrong. For the whole year I was treated with the utmost respect, he didn't stare, didn't laugh, he thought my opinions were valid, he became my mentor, and an extremely good example of today's Homo Sapiens. Of course I liked feeling comfortable in my own skin, and when he decided to move onto another school, I didn't like it much. Then I heard through the teacher grapevine he would be posted at another school which I attend and the minute I showed that I was pleased, the grapevine said I was such a fool, the man was one of those who would be nice and then back stab later. And me the fool almost believed it, until I actually took myself to the other school, and my other big thing; my mouth, just told it like it was. I'm glad I did. The grapevine had it all wrong, probably not for a good cause. Today I still enjoy the same respect of last year, only at another school. It took someone small in size (and I do not say it in any disrespectful way), to make Big Me feel comfortable. It took a small man, big in politeness and kindness as well as intellect to make me feel 'normal'. I hope this man will be awarded a medal for silently going out of his way to make me at ease, both professionally and physically. And if I'd had it my way, his epitaph would read, 'Here lies a man who was not big in physique but so big in everything else, the small who made Big feel good.' And I will always be grateful for his professional yet friendly and thoughtful way who tackled big old me. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, trim waists and not-so-trim waists needn't be at war. Because sometimes diversity works, if you work at it.

When Big got bigger

Today something made me mad.. then sad. I will always be an avid supporter against animal cruelty, but perhaps some society should be formed against human cruelty. I absolutely adore my cats and dogs and yes, sometimes I think they could be human. I treat them with the same respect that I will treat any other human being. My pets eat the top pet food on the market, drink bottled water, have couches to sleep on, have a big house to run up and down when they want to, have their toys, they also watch TV, sleep on the bed; in a few words they have the same treatment as anybody staying with me would get. And it's only fair. They didn't ask to come to me, so since I got them I have to give them the best. Just like kids. And yes we're on the constant look-out for anybody ill-treating little people. And that's a good thing. But what about big people, big as in grown up and as in body weight too? What I saw today was downright disgusting. And no it didn't just stop at the watching. A big man came up on the bus (today had to be the one day in the year when I was on a bus), paid his ticket, found a seat and sat down. True, I'm talking about a big, big man who probably triples my weight or more. And just in case anybody wants to know, getting up on a bus is as big a deal as the people when they're big. I discover I can make it, but go bigger than me, and you won't. My guess is this man must have weighed, through my experience in interviewing overweight candidates for Arani Issa, something like a 250 kg, no joke. We've seen bigger than that and the poor people cannot lead a very normal life. But is a big man boarding a bus something to make another man's bus ride the joke of the century? That is not just rude, but downright inhuman. The man had to push himself hard to do it, and ended up flushed and out of breath. My heart just went out. But I've been taught not to look, not to stare because that hurts. I actually get stares myself, but I've grown quite a thick crocodile skin by now, and I have not been unlucky enough to grow that massively big. But why stare? Sure, something which you don't see everyday will surprise you, but that's it, one look and please look the other way. It is so cruel to keep staring, I perhaps know a little bit of what this man felt, and that is downright embarrassing. I used to feel that way until the alligator skin grew. That on its own is disgusting. But talk about rubbing salt into the would, another man started saying that the big man was ugly, that someone should kick his ass, that he was interested in roasting him because he would be able to feed 'il-klandestini kollha ghal sena'. He was laughing his head off. And then I decided to stare at the man, geeze, I've never seen ugly boarding a bus, I thought ugly was an adjective, but this was a personified noun. No teeth, receding hair, scruffy clothes, oh God this man was also something out of the ordinary, so i decided, that I might as well stare. And stare I did, until he became uncomfortable himself. If Mr Big had not yet grown the reptile skin, than I'd just have to do it for him. That's the thing between big people, we have unspoken friendship, we somehow become comrades at first glance, and it's all big. So I just silently hoped my mum would forgive me if she had been there, and became a pastaza. I stared harder, until I got the reaction I hoped for... X'qed thares? Yessssss there it was, the arena was open. Well I just said I was looking at him wasn't it obvious, because I'd never seen someone like him. He swore some, swore some more, and I still stared. Then sent me to a lot of places I've never been near, like my family's private parts. By now the whole attention had gone from Mr. big to this man (oh dear I just love these commotions), so I said I was going to stare for the same amount of time that he stared at somebody else, and I also said that probably swearing in buses wasn't allowed, and that I don't like sharing a bus with an ugly cruel man like him. I couldn't stop myself, I know it could have got uglier, but he just walked the walk of shame, called me a word which means someone being a prostitute for 'il-klandestini' and went down the bus. I could have jumped for joy, but I'd probably have rocked the bus. The people on the bus decided it was time for cheer. Then it was Mr. Big's turn to stare.. at me. I just gave him a knowing smile and he mouthed a thank you and then ... he cried. Oh man, I didn't want him to cry. So I just winked and said, 'It's ok, it really could have been me.', to which we suddenly laughed. Because we all have been down that road. It's a cruel road which can get ugly, but a road which I have every right to walk on. Big matters, and sometimes it's unhealthy. But there really is no reason to make me a circus. The days when that would make me miserable are over, and they are over all thanks to the little people who do not see me as a clown. The little people who comfortably hug my extra kilos, the ones who try and make their hands meet around my waist although physically impossible. But they try. I am the one responsible for little people to learn. But they have taught me so much. And yes perhaps I am addicted to little people, but hey.. I will always help a Mr. Big in distress.... even if it's not a Sex and the City Mr. Big. But then, he doesn't need help... sigh...