Run, Fat Boy, Run! Day 5 (Part One)

Eek! This was exciting to write! Okay, someone stated earlier in a critique that this would get really boring if there wasn't any conflict soon. So here you go! This is really gonna be a blast to write. This entry is a little long so this is just half of it.

Thank you for reading about your Fat Boy!

-

Day Five


As soon as I stepped through the door after school, my mom threw me into our small car and drove me to the doctors'. She was speaking so rapidly I was only able to catch a few words:
“Health problems… safety… obese… diet… overweight… food…”
I was blushing furiously the entire car ride. Why was she just now frantically worried about my health? Was it something she heard? Had someone told her my weight? I tried to interrupt her but she wouldn’t let me. She held up her hand and stared into my eyes. Hers were ice, cold and unwavering.
“Mom!” I was finally able to say. Pulling my fingers and squishing myself against the edge of the door, and stuttered, “What’s going on? Why do I have to go to the doctors? Please don’t make me go! Mom, please! Don’t make me – “
“I can’t believe that I let you get like this! It’s getting ridiculous! It’s your weight. It’s getting out of hand. Please, just come to the doctors. They have a nutritionist there and she’ll help us get situated."
“Mom, please! I don’t wanna go!” My mind was traveling at the speed of light. I couldn’t manage to grasp what was going on. I was going to the doctors because of my poor health, obviously. But why? Why now? Why couldn’t Mom have told me?
“You don’t have a choice. Listen.” She turned to me, her hand grasped firmly on the steering wheel. “I’ve been completely oblivious to what’s been going on. I haven’t even been monitoring what you’ve been eating, how much you’ve been working out. I just thought that it was a phase. I was positively certain that it was just a phase. The 'Fat Phase' is what other moms call it.”
My face reddened. I pulled at my fingers and bit my bottom lip.
“But then the other night I was listening to the radio and this talk show came up. They talked about obese teens and the health problems they have. They told us that we shouldn’t let our teens be like this. I mean unhealthy.”
Mom pulled up to a stop sign and I felt the stinging tears slowly crawl up to my eyes.
“Please, Mom, just let me out,” I muttered helplessly. “Please. I can’t do this…”
I yanked on the handle to open the door – it was locked. The freaking door was locked. My hand instantly went for the unlocking switch, and I pushed it. I heard a click and went to open the door. It didn't budge.
“Please, just listen to me. The door is on child lock. You have to admit it. You are fat. Say it. You are fat and you want to lose weight,” my mother begged. Her eyes were just as tearful as mine. My heart seemed to be ice cold – dead. She was torturing me. She was tearing me apart!
“Mom…” I cried and wiped my eyes with my shirtsleeve. “Mom, please…”
“Just say it. Just say, ‘I am fat. I am fat and I’m gonna lose weight.’”
“Mom…” I could barely even speak. Choked up and crying, I wailed into my arm.
“Just admit it! Just admit that you are fat!”

We pulled up into the doctor’s building. The letters were bright and glaring at me with blood hungry eyes:
DR. ROBERT FLOREZ’S OFFICE

“Mom,” I whispered faintly. “Please don’t make me.
“Wipe your eyes. I’m not going to let you go in there looking like that. Look at me.”
I slowly raised my eyes up to her chin. I wouldn’t – no, I couldn’t – look into her eyes. They were killing me.
“I – no, you have to do this. You have to go in there and admit that you are fat. You have to tell them that you want to lose weight. You have to tell them that you are up for the challenge. Look at me.”
I didn’t.
“Look at my damn eyes!”
“Mom, please, I can’t!” I wailed and looked away. My eyes looked out the passenger window and down the street. Cars were busily swarming the highways and roads. They were free, unlike me. That’s all I wanted to be, right then. Free - away from Mom.
“Will you go in there?” Her voice was suddenly soft and fragile. “Please?”
I slowly turned my head back to her and looked at her pleading eyes.
“Mom, I can’t - you know that. I can’t go in there.”
“You know you need to.”

*

My heart was beating, my blood pumping. My face was red hot as I stepped through the doors hesitantly. Mom was standing directly behind me, urging me to walk forward.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she reminded me.
A nurse glanced at us and then her eyes met my mom’s. Mom smiled softly and walked closer to the nurse.
"Is this him?" the nurse whisperd. Mom nodded.
The nurse examined me from my head to my toes. "Okay, thank you." Her voice was so much different than my mother’s. This woman actually cared. I could see in her face that she didn’t want to be there either. She would rather be home, drinking a Dr. Pepper and watching the newest episode of House. But no. She was stuck in hell.
“Yeah, it’s him.” Why did Mom’s voice sound so different than in the car?
“Okay.” She smiled and beckoned me to join her. I didn’t move – I couldn’t. It was as if I was frozen in place by my own stubbornness.
The nurse looked at my mother and said, “Is everything alright?” Mom smiled and prodded me in the back.
“Oh, yes. Everything is fine. He’s just a bit intimidated.”
Taking the hint, I slowly made my way over to the nurse and smiled weakly.
“Everything is going to be okay. Don’t worry.” She smiled her false smile again and took me into the depths of hell.

The scale was staring at me with cold eyes. It wasn’t the normal kind that I had at my house. This one was much taller and had a long bar stretched across the length of it. When I stepped on it, everything went lopsided. The nurse skillfully swept the little bar things up and down, finding the right balance. My stomach almost gave in when I read the final weight.
233.
Two hundred and thirty-freaking-three pounds. I felt faint and the nurse noticed.
“Are you alright? Do you need to sit down or something?”
I told her no. I just wanted to get this over with. She took me down a hall, her steps quick and light. The rooms seemed to be taunting me.

“Run, Fat Boy, Run!”

“Fatty!”

“Look at the fat hanging off that kid – he must be over two hundred pounds!”
I was too angry to admit that they were right. I was fat. I was too fat to even be considered a teenager. Heck, my teachers didn’t even weight as much as me. It was absurd. What was going on with me?
Was I officially obese then? How was I to know? Nothing made sense anymore. The rooms were crying out the insults again, and I tried to steer clear of them.
“Run, Fat Boy, run!”
The nurse stopped at an open door. “Right here.” I nervously glanced into the inside of the room. There were three people seated comfortably in the all-too-claustrophobic-room. Two of them I didn’t recognize. The last was my mother.
The devil and her two angels.

Hey Jared! Thanks for letting me know about this.

Nit-Picks

As soon as I stepped through the door after school, my mom threw me into our small car and drove me to the doctors’. She was speaking so rapidly I was only able to catch a few words:

Missing apostrophe.

I tried to interrupt her but she wouldn’t let me. She held up her hand and stared at me.

You ended two sentences with ‘me’ here, and it’s a bit annoying.

“Mom!” I was finally able to say. “What’s going on? Why do I have to
go to the doctors? Please don’t make me go! Mom, please! Don’t make me – “

So what’s he thinking? Feeling? I’m really not interested, as I’m not there at all yet. You can use some details.

Whenever I got upset in the car, I'd turn my head, squeeze against the door, try to get as far away from my dad as possible. (I now only cry out of my right eye 'cause of that, haha.) What's his reaction? Sinking into his seat? Plucking at the leather? Staring out the window? Retaliating? Denial?

Whatever it is, there's a reason - show it all! This is the perfect spot to expand on the mother/son relationship, good or bad, but you skipped it.

“You don’t have a choice. Listen,” she said and turned to me, her hand grasped firmly on the steering wheel.

I’d ditch the ‘she said’ and just start a new sentence as ‘She turned to me…’

I was positively certain that it was just a phase. The ‘Fat Phase’ is what other moms call it.”

It should have apostrophes.

I yanked on the handle to open the door – it was locked. The freaking door was locked.

Why doesn’t he just unlock it…?

“Look at my damn eyes!”

I think ‘…my God damn eyes!’ would sound more natural, but it’s up to you.

“Mom, please[s]… [/s], I can’t!”

Ellipses = evil.

[s]Oh, t[/s]That’s all I wanted to be, right then. Free… away from Mom.

Dash instead of the ellipses?

“Will you go in there?” [s]h[/s]Her voice was suddenly soft and fragile. “Please?”

It's describing her voice, but this is...a special case? Haha.

“Mom, I can’t… you know that. I can’t go in there.”

Comma or dash instead of ellipses.

My heart was beating, my blood pumping. My face was red hot as I stepped through the doors hesitantly.

When’d he get out of the car? That’s a big deal – show us. Also, don’t start both of these as ‘my [body part] was [action/description.]’

“You’re doing the right thing,” she often reminded me.

I’d ditch the ‘often.’

A nurse glanced at us and then her eyes met my mom’s.

When’d they enter the room? Show us! It’s a big deal for him.

“Is this ______?”

All right, for the no name thing. I like that you’re letting us just call him ‘Fatty’ – it makes us relate better. Anonymity is golden. I would have her clearly turn away from Fatty, and talk quietly to the mom, saying ‘Is this him?’ Then the mom can say ‘Yes.’ It would be a bit better, more emotional, you know? A ‘hidden’ conversation, giving you plenty of time to key up his emotions, hearing his mother talking about him this way. Also, it’s obviously Fatty, so why’s she have to ask?

I could see in her face that she didn’t want to be there either. She would rather be home, drinking a Dr. Pepper and watching the newest episode of House. But no. She was stuck in hell.

Who? The mom or the nurse? I think the nurse, but it's confusing, as you were talking about both the nurse and the mom.

Two hundred and thirty-freaking-three pounds. I felt faint and the nurse noticed.

Hm…maybe make the weight a bit higher? This isn’t too high for some guys – muscle ways more than fat, so the big guys way a good 200 pounds. Or just show that he can’t lift anything. You show how out of shape he is in the first one, but then you don’t remind us. Readers need to be reminded of things.

I told her no. I just wanted to get this over with. She took me down a hall quickly and the rooms seemed to say, “Run, Fat Boy, run! Fatty! Look at that fat hanging off that kid! He must be over two hundred pounds!”

This could be worded better for more effect. Like this:

She took me down a hall, her steps quick and sure. [Or something there, just to finish the sentence crisply.] The rooms seemed to be taunting me.

“Run, Fat Boy, Run!”

“Fatty!”

“Look at the fat hanging off that kid – he must be over two hundred pounds!”

I was too angry to admit that they were right. I was fat. I was too fat to even be considered a teenager. Heck, my teachers didn’t even weight as much as me. It was absurd. What was going on with me?

I know really buff guys (no fat at all) that weight at least 180…

Was I officially obese then? How was I to know? Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing but those voices that came from the rooms that were yelling insults to me.

Reword that last sentence. It sounds like kids are actually saying it.

The devil and her two angels.

Love the ending.

Overall Comments

Jared, I always love this story. You're good at spicing things up just before they get boring, making things realistic, making me relate. It's wonderful.

Two things here, though:

The Mother

The boy's mother really bothered me. First, her dialogue didn't seem very real. You need to read it out loud, see what you think. People don't talk like that. You're close, but not quite there.

Also, the way she acts. She has no reason! Give her a reason - show us their history.

Lack of Descriptions

This is a blog, so you'll have less than normal. But you still need the important stuff. Emotions mainly. Facial expressions. The tiny repetitive moves we make when stressed. The noticeable scenery. The atmosphere of the room.

Other than that, I loved it. Looking forward to part two!

PM me for anything.

~JFW1415

Hey!

I have really only one suggestion at this point: I think you should change this from first person to third person. From using "I" to "he". The main reason for this is because the language you use is not language that a boy would use when describing himself. He would not talk about himself wailing to his mother, I don't think. Then again, I'm not a guy, so I wouldn't know. *grins* Anyway, that's my opinion, and this is very good and very different! Nice job.


p.s. Sorry, but I don't really get the last line. Did you mean 'the devil and her two demons'?

Wow, JFW, thank you so much! I always miss those things that you talk about. I used to go dash crazy, but now I've gone comma crazy... Anyway, yeah, the mom is a bit psycho. I'll try to flesh her out in the other half of this day. Yeah, I'm lacking a lot of descriptions, but this is the first draft. lol. Always can benefit from a re-write.

Lyrical - Huh. Thanks for your opinion, but I'd rather keep it in first person. It wouldn't really work out as a blog/journal if it wasn't in first person. But thank you anyway! It means a lot to me.

Any more reviews would be extremely helpful!

-Jared

Hiya! I will remain loyal to this thing, because I enjoy it so much

Anyway, I have put the grammar and recommendations on line-by-line nitpicks into a Word '03 file, so if you can't open it, let me know.

*

Impressions, Tips
Firstly, as always with your writing I will say well done, you kept me interested and got the reader, (aka me) involved. When I first started reading, I was pleased you went for the conflict approach, and fast-pacing following the recent entries with more action, but I was then asking myself if that is what you wanted. This is a diary entry, you see, and in diary entries there is more narration, more telling as opposed to showing. Many writers cringe at the idea of having a telling story, which is why we see so few diaries about. Writing this type of story, or rather, this type of writing the story, is very challenging. Action scenes don't work as well in diaries, because, well, who writes like this?

As much as I enjoyed the piece, I see little to distinguish these diary entries from any other style of writing--i.e., if you got rid of 'Day 3, 4, etc' it would just be a story. With diaries you must ask yourself if you character would quite bluntly just sit down and write like this. You can keep it like this - you are making it work - just be sure to respect the idea of this being a log, and not a novel. In other words, choose your end. Diary, or novel form?

Perhaps you can counter all of that by just putting it in italics? I don't know - that is preference. Let's assume you are going all the way, not just sitting on the fence, and are turning this into standard-form.

Noticeable senses are required. What is your MC thinking? Is he ill with fear? Then more will be a blur, he just will catch various points of the senses. If he is alert, he will be cringing at every bad odour, seeing the light stream over creases on his clothes.

You are doing great with character development, so I doubt I can offer much help there, and I felt the contrast between the entries very effective.

Best of luck,
Mark

Wow, I was late to this one. Didn't notice it was up 'til five minutes ago!

I tried to interrupt her, but she wouldn’t let me.

Pulling my fingers and squishing myself against the edge of the door, and stuttered, “What’s going on? Why do I have to go to the doctors? Please don’t make me go! Mom, please! Don’t make me – “

Hmm... Your tag isn't part of a sentence. Reread the part before the quote, and you'll know what I mean. There's no subject. xD

Please, just come to the doctors'. They have a nutritionist there, and she’ll help us get situated."

Apostrophe and comma.

“Mom, please! I don’t wanna go!” My mind was traveling at the speed of light. I couldn’t manage to grasp what was going on. I was going to the doctors because of my poor health, obviously. But why? Why now? Why couldn’t Mom have told me?

I know how he feels about going to the doctors'. I don't like going to the doctors', but some readers do like the doctors' (believe it or not), so it may be a good idea to explain why, whether it's before this, now, or later. ^^

I haven’t even been monitoring what you’ve been eating, how much you’ve been working out. [dash instead] I just thought that it was a phase.

I would probably put a dash there just because she interrupted her list of mistakes. It's hard to explain, but that's what I'd do. ^^

“But then the other night I was listening to the radio, and this talk show came up.

Comma.

They told us that we shouldn’t let our teens be like this. [dash instead] I mean unhealthy.

I picture the mom's words rushing, like you said earlier, so she speaks before she thinks. That's why I suggest all these dashes -- it'll make it look like she's speaking really fast. It's up to you, though. ^^

Mom pulled up to a stop sign, and I felt the stinging tears slowly crawl up to my eyes.

I yanked on the handle to open the door – [semi instead] it was locked.

Semi is a suggestion only to distract from the dashes I suggested earlier. ^^

You are fat, and you want to lose weight,” my mother begged.

Comma.

Horrible mother! I feel so sorry for your MC.

“Mom,” I whispered faintly. “Please don’t make me."

Close quotes. And I still don't understand why it's such a big deal. Is he embarrassed?

That’s all I wanted to be, [no comma] right then. Free - away from Mom.

I don't like that dash, though you changed your ellipses to it, so that's fine. It works either way. I would probably put a comma or even a period. Depends entirely on your style, though.

She would rather be home, drinking a Dr. Pepper and watching the newest episode of House.

Italicize House 'cause it's a name of a TV Show.

Two hundred and thirty-freaking-three pounds.

Lol! I liked this! Good job! xD

“Are you alright? Do you need to sit down or something?”

I don't like the or something at the end of a professional's sentence, but I could be wrong?

Heck, my teachers didn’t even [s]weight[/s] weigh as much as me.

“Run, Fat Boy, [s]Run[/s] run!”

I knew there was something familiar about this sentence, lol.

I nervously glanced [s]into the inside of[/s] in the room.

The devil and her two angels.

Very descriptive and it made me smile/snort. It was good, but I found it a bit random. Maybe if you made little hints in the beginning when Mom was trying to convince her son was fat, this would be more effective.

I didn't like the Mom, lol. It might just be me, but she really didn't act like a mom. Maybe I just have the best mom in the world... And give reasons for their actions in the car. I still don't understand why he's making such a big fuss over the doctors'. Little children would, but.. teenagers? I think they understand what the doctors' is all about and that they have no choice but to go, lol. Again, I could be wrong. Explain some of that stuff, and good description when he was with the nurse -- the scale and everything. Maybe you could mention the smell of the office; the smell always bothered me. xD

Good as usual! Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

Bear - as always a tad bit late, but always better late than ever, yes?



Quote:
Please, just come to the doctors.
This seems awkward, and just doesn’t fit. I mean, okay, make her plead with him, but sprinkle that throughout her replies, not just here, were it doesn’t fit with the “voice”.


Quote:
“Please, just listen to me. The door is on child lock.
That last part she should add - about the child lock, that is.

Quote:
“Just say it. Just say, ‘I am fat. I am fat and I’m gonna lose weight.’”
“Going to” - it’s the mother’s words. Above, notice, you have “want to” as opposed to “wanna”.


Quote:
Why did Mom’s voice sound so different than in the car?
“So different” - but in what way? That we can only vaguely imagine, since it is not stated. I mean yes, she’s smiling and all, but still.


Quote:
The devil and her two angels.
I don’t understand the “angel” part. Really.


Well, this was a very emotional part. For the first time we have contact - direct contact, that is - with a parent of the MC, or, to be specific, with the mother. All in all, I liked her, though that “pleading” part should be more cleared out. There is hysteria in her, but that pleading should be more emphasized, and her change of tone later on should be explained. Also, the talk show theme. I like how you have them - the mother and son - two different ways of relating to it.


Well, now I’ll have to wait for the next installments like the rest, aye? *sigh


Cheers,
Esme

Yay, day five! I like this chapter much more then the previous one, your character got a lot more fleshed out and you were back t showing rather than telling. Nice job!

Some quick critiques...

We pulled up into the doctor’s building. The letters were bright and glaring at me with blood hungry eyes

Great imagery, but I think there should be a hyphen in "blood-hungry."

Her voice was so much different than my mother’s. This woman actually cared.

I kinda thought the whole reason the mom was dragging her son off to this was because she cares about his health? Besides, you go on right afterwards to say that the nurse really wants to be home watching TV... as such, this sentence confused me a little. *shrugs*

“Everything is going to be okay. Don’t worry.” She smiled her false smile again and took me into the depths of hell.

Since you already used the "hell" about three sentences ago, this came across as a tad jarring... might want to reword this.

Heck, my teachers didn’t even weight as much as me.

I think you mean "weigh."

Overall, I really liked how you were showing us more emotion, showing us that your main character is vulnerable and afraid and upset right now... but I do think it felt a little bit sudden and forced. I find it pretty hard to believe that considering all the hysteria in the media about how everyone's kids are overweight and all, the mom would only have heard about it now. I think it might seem more smooth if there was some foreshadowing for this earlier in the story... instead of her just being oblivious the whole time, maybe she's been getting concerned for awhile, or maybe they've even argued about his weight before...?

In any case, great chapter, this was a lot more showing-ish than the previous one, and it's much better for it. Your MC is gaining even more likability by showing the reader his fears, and my sympathy is definitely growing.

Looking forward to the rest, and I hope all these reviews were at least a little helpful... ^^; Thank you very much!

Awe...

I feel so terrible for him. The mom! She's so... she's such a jerk! Grrrr! Poor Fat Boy...
Anywhoo, of all of previous entries, this is my favorite. You grasp the situations, his life at home, his life out of home, and you really realize how much his weight tears him apart. Poor, poor, Fat Boy.

Holly

(P.S. I want to know his real name! I feel kind of bad calling him Fat Boy all the time... that sounds really weird... taking about a character like that. lol.)

What is with his mom?? The least she could do is confront Fat Boy about his weight instead of embarrasing him about it!

Other than that, nice job, as always. Your style is wonderful.

Hey hey!

Why was she just now frantically worried about my health?

The emphasis on the word "now" would work better, if the word before it was "suddenly". And you may want to ditch the "frantically" as it only breaks the rhythm. You know, as in "Why was she suddenly now worried about my health?".

I yanked on the handle to open the door – it was locked. The freaking door was locked. My hand instantly went for the unlocking switch, and I pushed it. I heard a click and went to open the door. It didn't budge.

“Please, just listen to me. The door is on child lock.

This was really somewhat ridiculous. I actually laughed. His Mom locks the door to prevent the boy from escaping? That is a little absurd. The Mom isn't very believable anyway, I'm afraid.

whisperd.

Whispered.


Overall: The good story continues, however, it doesn't seem real that someone would write actual dialogue to a journal. But that is something you can do nothing about. I understand the story needs dialogue to be interesting. Also, the boy's mother isn't believable, at least I can't imagine any mother behaving and talking like that. But maybe this is some weird mom?


Demeter xx

Sooo... I came upon this by chance. I was just glancing through things and found it. I wasn't really planning on commenting but, well, I couldn't help myself. I love it. I think your main character is fresh and new. It is also relevant in a time period when obesity is going through the roofs in countries that have more then their fair share of food. I am tired of reading about skinny girls with boy problems. It’s stimulating to see a character with a little more depth. Bravo.

Okay. Now on to the constructive criticism part… I hate this part. I have to admit, the mom is a bit severe. I mean, this is the boy’s mother. Would she really be saying “admit you’re fat?” This is her baby boy! Maybe she would try to convince him that he had a problem, but I highly doubt she would be so blunt. It makes her seem mean and uncaring. Of course, it’s up to you to decide this. Also, I agree with the changing the story from first person to third person. It’ll give you a chance to take the story to a different level.

Anyways, that’s all I got!