I do not remember the exact day it happened.

I think it was around the Winter of 2003.

But I remember the emotion.
I remember the horror.
I remember the moment that changed my life.

I was in the bathroom. I did not feel very good. When it was time for me to wipe, I could not do it.

At first I thought I did not position myself correctly. So I got up and tried again.

No luck.

I remember shaking my arm. Maybe something was wrong with being unable to reach?

No luck again.

Then I tried real hard. I was sweating. I put a leg up on the bathtub. I turned and twisted as much as I could.

Then it hit me. I could not wipe myself any longer.

I remember standing there, with tears rolling down my face.

I was a failure.

Things creep up on you when you get big.

Booths at restaurants seem smaller.
Pants do not fit if you do not wear them every day.
You get mad at airlines and car manufacturers because they do not make seats big enough.

Yet it is you who is getting larger

I never told anyone I could not wipe myself anymore. There were ways I kept myself clean, but they were horrible. I could have bought a “tool” from the Causal Male XL, then people would know my secret.

Yeah, some secret!

Yet it changed the person I was.

I always felt like I smelled. I would carry around a bottle of cologne to cover the “smell”.

I never wanted to be around people. I would tell my wife to leave me alone a lot. I would distance myself from everyone.

I hated myself.

I had pretty good self-esteem before that. I was over 300 pounds, and really did not care about my weight. People would tease, but I did not care.

Once that happened, my life stopped.

How could I be a great husband if I can not wipe myself?
How could I be a leader at work if I could not wipe myself?
How could I love myself if I could not wipe myself?

It consumed me. Yet, for years after, I would still eat like a maniac.

Then, in 2008, after a couple of months into my new lifestyle, at 353 pounds, I tried to wipe.

I was able to do so.

It was the second time I cried in a bathroom.

It never felt so good, and I realized I would never gain the weight again.

This post came about because I read about the word fat (which I have written about) and fat acceptance, and I guess this week is some sorority’s “Fat Talk Free” week.

I get the fact that people need a better self image. They should not put themselves down. They should not call themselves “fat” when they weigh 135 pounds, and they should love the great qualities about themselves.

But when you read my blog, remember one thing….

When you are 420 pounds, size 60 pants, 5xl shirt, unable to wipe yourself, and called lazy at work, words like fat and overweight do not hurt.

What hurts is looking in the mirror and not doing something about it.

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