Morbid Obesity and Roger P.

I’ve been fat my whole life. Being the fat kid in school made me an outcast. When you’re always on the outside looking in, your level of caring declines. I felt that everything and everyone was against me, and I was an angry kid.

Not only was I fat but I was weird looking, too. I carried all my weight in my hips and thighs, like a woman. I was one of those obese people who seem to be not a “he” or a “she” but an “it.” I looked like two different people stuck together.

In my line of work, which is designing and building binary data systems, I’m able to work solo as a contract employee. I always chose to work from home, going in for meetings as infrequently as possible. I fashioned my career to allow for maximum reclusiveness.

I was always ashamed and embarrassed. Whenever I went out to eat I would find the darkest, most secluded corner in the restaurant to hide out in. Clothes were a problem, too. For years I wore bib overalls, the monster size. I couldn’t button them all the way up on the sides.

And I lived in fear of children. Children would see me in   public and pipe up with something totally humiliating. I started scheduling my visits to the market for the middle of the night just to avoid being humiliated by little kids.