The Chair

Life is hard as a fat man. He knew this all too well. Movement was not easy because joints hurt after years of supporting such a large frame. Breathing is labored. Finding clothing is like a quest for the Holy Grail, and once a fat person finds something that resembles a stylish garment, it is treasured.

For most of his life, he hated his body. It was round and clumsy. He did not look in the mirror often, and he tried his hardest to never look at himself naked. He was repulsed by the sight of it.

He felt awkward most of the time. The man was always the largest person in a crowd, and he heard the laughs and whispers. What people didn’t know was that they weren’t even close to saying anything as harmful as he said to himself. 

There were times when the man wanted to simply disappear. It was impossible for him to not be noticed, so as a defense he acted like the world’s biggest extrovert. He thought if he made people laugh, they would accept him as kind of normal. It worked most of the time, and so the man went through life looking happy but feeling like he was the ugliest beast on the face of the earth.

He was fortunate because his wife and family looked past his grotesque features and loved him unconditionally. The man had a few friends that he knew accepted him as well. Because of these people he was able to sideline most thoughts of self-harm. He was grateful for them. They were true lifesavers.  

He had gone through months of therapy and was feeling better about himself. He was trying to accept his body as just that, a body. The word body has no value. It is not inherently good or bad. It is just a body. The man was beginning to understand that and to see himself as just a person. 

He was coming to terms with his addiction to food and was reaching a place where he could see that there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. He could overcome his sickness and become healthy. He was starting to believe that with hard work and support the weight could be lost, and he could replace the negative self-image with something more mentally healthy.

As he sat in his car broken and weeping, the man tried to think of a positive affirmation. He could not find one. There was nothing there though. All he could think of was the pain. The everlasting pain of being horrid and monstrous. The thoughts were dark, but somehow strangely soothing.

The bridge from 30 to 80 was the spot he chose. He had long ago found this spot and knew it would perfect. All he had to do was get a good start, hit ninety to one hundred mph and he could easily pop over the railing and fall five hundred feet to the ground below.

He turned the key on and placed the van into drive.

As the man drove towards his destination he recalled the event that brought him to this point. He was alone and did not want to make dinner, so he decided to eat at one of his favorite Mexican restaurants. He was seated and the server brought chips and salsa. As he reached across the table for the salt shaker the chair he sat on splintered under the extreme weight of the man.

As the chair broke, the man tried to steady himself, but it was too late. He hit the floor with a thunderous thud. He hit his head on the table behind him landing with a thunderous thud. He lost his breath and looked up only to see the table he hit. 

Humiliation overcame him in an instant. He was hurt physically and needed to catch his breath. The server and other staff came to check on him. He gasped at them that he was ok and he tried to get up off the floor as quickly as he could. Of course, because he was hurt and morbidly obese getting up was not quick at all. When the man did finally get off the floor, he apologized and promptly left. 

Tears nearly blinded him as he neared the bridge. This was it. His pain would finally end. He tried to merge into the lane for the bridge, but no one would let him in. He passed the exit.

The man pulled to the side of the freeway and stopped. He bitterly wept. He wanted the pain to go away, but he knew he could not do it this way. He could not be exorcised from his agony only to pass it along to others. His wife and daughters deserved better than to discover he had killed himself. His friends who loved him did as well. 

As he sat on the side of the freeway, the man composed himself. He knew that he needed to go home. It was the only place he could be safe. The fat man cautiously merged onto the freeway and drove home.

He sat in the dark for hours. He told himself that there were people who loved him even if he did not love himself. He said aloud that his life was precious and he could, with work and help, become healthy.

He didn’t believe any of it, but the man decided to fake it until he made it.