I seem to have better luck with journal entries! So, here is another journal story. I think that it will turn out really good. I'll write an entry a day and try to finish Fat Boy's tale through weight loss.

And I think it has a good point behind it all.

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Run, Fat Boy, Run!

Day One

I’m gonna change my life. I don’t know how, but I will. Believe me - after everything I’ve been through, I need this more than anything else.

My name is Fat Boy. At least, that’s what everyone seems to call me. It’s not very pleasant, but hey, it’s a nickname. I’ve always been the Fat Boy at school. Always. I can’t remember a day when I wasn’t four sizes bigger than anyone. Heck, even in kindergarten I was wearing third grader clothes.

I never really thought about it much back then. Why should I have? I mean, there is no use trying to loose weight when you are in grade school. It used to be cool to be bigger than everyone else. ‘Cause I was a big boy. But now… it’s horrible going to school every day, tugging at my shirt so it wouldn’t cling desperately to my fat.

Sure, people made fun of me. They threw snide comments, menacing glances and horrible names at me. My favorite was Fat Boy. Thinking back, I thought it was kind of stupid the way that I got my name. It was gym. The teacher was talking to a student, and I was running the mile.

Of course, I was panting like a dog. My breath had completely escaped me, and I found myself gasping for air. My face was turning an alarming shade of scarlet. My chubs were flying through the air, dancing to the beat that my feet pounded to the ground. It was rather gross, but hey, I get used to it.

Anyway, my flubber was bouncing carelessly and behind me came two of those whatever-you-can-do-I-can-do-better jocks. They were laughing at my body and one of them yelled, “Run, Fat Boy, run!”

And so, I guess that’s how it all began.

My name is Fat Boy and this is my story.

For months I had been watching my weight increase and rise above the ‘overweight’ meter. I was terrified out of my mind. What was wrong with me? Was it just a stage like my parents thought it was? They told me every time that I brought up my weight, “It’s just a phase. Soon you’ll grow out of it.”

Sorry, Mom. I think it’s here to stay.

And so it’s there every morning, every night, and every meal. I notice it every day – and every day it seems to get larger. Was it a medical issue? I didn’t want to go to the doctors; every time that I went there, they weighed me, and I did not want my parents to know what I weighed.

I was beginning to feel really nervous like when you have one of those knots in your stomach that pulls tighter and tighter until you think you’re going to die. Yeah.

Gym class is right after lunch. I mean, you have no time to digest your food before you have to work it off again. Believe me, I’m sweating like a pig when the class finally ends – and the end of eternity. It’s the class that I always hate. I mean… shouldn’t it be an elective? If we don’t want to exercise then we don’t have to. It shouldn’t be required.

Schools are stupid that way.

In health today, we learned about proper nutrition. Trust me, I sank lower and lower in my seat, wishing the bell would ring. Calories. What a stupid invention. My teacher said that we should only take in as much of them as we can burn off. She handed out this packet that we were to fill out for the rest of the week. It made us count how many calories we ate a day.

I really didn’t want to come back to that class ever again.

But I’ve actually kept track. At dinner tonight, we had pizza. The hot and spicy aroma filled my lungs with joy as I plopped down and ate it. It was then that I saw my homework and – after dinner – I tipped the box over for the nutritional facts.

It turns out that one piece of pizza has about two hundred calories – not to mention that I ate four slices. Eight hundred calories. Our teacher said that “normal” people’s diets should intake about two thousand.

In that one meal, I ate more than half of that.

I also included my soda can that I drank with my pizza – another one hundred and fifty calories.

I really don’t want to see how many calories I take in a day.

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Any comments? Suggestions?