The Fear

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Grow up where I did; there was always a Bodega somewhere. Either around the corner from the many places, where I use to resided or maybe a couple of blocks away (Give or take!). Every time I would enter said Bodega, there was always a yearning to get a pack Little Debbie or maybe five packs, but who’s counting? Even when it was early in the morning and my mom bugged me to get bread or milk for breakfast. I’ve would always picked up a treat on the way to the bread section. I figured, it was a reward for getting my fat ass out of the couch. However, nowadays my relationships with Little Debbie or Hostess have taken a turn for the better. Sure, went I go to the store to pick up a pack of Marlboro lights (I know smoking is a gross habit, but that’s another story)! I still crave for one of those artificially made apple pies. I feel like they’re calling my name (I have a weakness for apple pies. It’s like America wrapped in a glazed covered goodness!), waiting for me to buy one and devour it before I even get out of the Bodega. Be that as it may, I’m not that fat 10 year old kid who use to eat he’s feelings anymore (Well, I’m getting better at it!). I’ve slimmed down a bunch these past couple of months (It mostly has to do with my Greek tragedy of a summer), but mainly it was because it was time for a change. I hated the way my body felt and the way it looked. I hate the way I felt, when I went shopping with my friends and they could find and wear whatever they wanted. However, my mission was impossible, just to find something that look good or even decent. I don’t want the first thing, that people see is my fat-ness. I’m more than just the big guy, or fat boy, as I was so kindly named back then. Little Debbie and all those other treats brought me some good and bad memories, but it’s time to leave those in the past and move forward. Everything’s cool as long as I’m getting thinner!

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