Princess Peach #3

I'm the daughter of an abusive, alcoholic father, and an insecure, weight obsessed mother. My childhood was split between having beer shoved in my face (read: down my throat) and being told that no boy would ever be able to love a fat girl. There are facets to my family's collective personality that I hope never to acquire. There's racism, sexism, drug addiction, pathological lying, fraud, child abuse, and much, much more.

That being said.

I agree with Arwen in this instance. I readily admit to my family's fucked-upness, but it doesn't faze me. If there's anything I've learned, and learned well, it's that life is all about choices. Do I have a predisposition for alcoholism? Absolutely. Do I drink? No. It's my choice to avoid drinking and all that it could possibly imply for me. Yes, I miss out on some experiences and yes, sometimes it distances me from my friends, but I'll never have to worry about becoming a parent who steals from my child's piggy-bank because I have no more beer money. Weakness runs through everyone's veins, but it's up to them to submit to it.

In the case of influence from my mother, I have submitted. Granted, I also have a predisposition for obesity (it runs rife through my family tree), but I certainly did nothing to prevent its onset. It's the part of me that I'm most ashamed of, and the part of me that's most readily available for ridicule. I was warned against becoming that fat girl, and out of misplaced rebellion, I became the fat girl queen. When I was 6, I tried to make my own ice cream by freezing milk and sugar. It didn't work. I ate it anyway. When I was 11 and at summer camp, I stoke quarters from my dad's dresser (hey, fair's fair) and stocked up on candy from the vending machine so I could eat it at night after my parents went to bed. At 15, I bribed my sister into riding her bike to the grocery store to buy me ice cream. I couldn't go because I knew the cashiers would remember me and I'd have to face that look of disgust--"Like you really need THIS, fatty." At 21, I'm a morbidly obese adult, and the choices I've made have led me here. The path was laid for me from birth, true, but I'm the one who chose to walk it. Now this mess is also mine to clean up, and with a little help, I'm doing it. The point is, humans are all flawed and imperfect creatures. We all have hundreds of opportunities to become fuck-ups and assholes, but only WE decide to take those choices. That's what makes a person great--seeing your weakness, embracing it, and vanquishing it--not going through life with no obstacles. Everyone has a family fuck-up, but only you decide if it's you.