Overload (Vitamin D)

Overload (Vitamin D)

[A First Person Perspective of a Portrait Subject]

I am the obese man. I am 47 years old. Every day, I live through the same shit; the only difference is the date on the calendar in my tiny cubicle; my tiny cubicle only fits my desk and chair; I lift the embarrassment that is called my stomach in my hands and shove myself in my tiny cubicle. In my youth, my schoolmates would call me names: “Hey, Fatso!” “Hey, Blimp!” “Hey, Whale!” “Hey, Lard Ass!” I’d slowly walk home with my head hung low as the other children pelted me with the desserts left over from their lunch boxes. When I’d get home, my divorcee mother would lock herself in her room, sobbing. I’d eat away our tears. Nothing has changed since then, besides the name calling. The names are now stares. The only thing I want to do when I get home is stand in the shower — naked, exposed. HOW MUCH OF ME DO YOU REALLY SEE?