Dear Fat,

We’ve been close friends my whole life.  And even though I can’t remember the first time I saw you, I know you’ve been hanging around me ever since I was a little kid.

Maybe you started to grow on me during those early years when I used to visit Grandma at her little apartment.  She’d cook up a fresh batch of homemade fries just for me.  I’d squeeze a long zig-zagged row of ketchup across the plate and then devour it like I’d never seen food before.  Then I’d chase it down with a tall glass of chocolate milk made with Nestlé Quick.

Or maybe you started to grow on me during the dozens of sleepovers at my best friend’s house.  We’d stay up late and sneak downstairs to the kitchen to make snacks which were really just hoards of junk food.  And during the day, we’d walk to the local McDonald’s and eat nuggets and fries and then we’d play video games at the Round Table Pizza across the road, and afterward, eat pizzatatoes with pepperoni and Ranch dressing and drink Coke.

Throughout my years in high school and college, you managed to stick by my side–ALL my sides.  And every year, you reached new heights.  But now as I look back, I realize I’ve always been the one responsible for keeping you around.  I couldn’t stop feeding you.  I hated you and loved you at the same time.  You’ve been with me for so many years, that I thought we’d never grow apart.  But over the past few months, things have started to change.  I’ve changed and now, I am in the process of getting rid of you.  Why?

Because–you make me uncomfortable.  You hold me back from doing the things I want to do.  You weigh me down.  You make me sad.  Some nights, I’ve even cried over you.  I’ve spent too many years fighting with you and then giving in just to satisfy your needs.  I’ve tried avoiding you.  I’ve tried to ignore you.  I’ve even told myself lies to convince me that you didn’t really matter.  But none of that worked.  You were still there.  Hanging on for dear life.  To my dear life.  And one day I realized, I could no longer let you have control over me, because my life is too precious.  So it’s time for you to go.  I’m packing your bags and moving you out for good.

Farewell,

Me

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/13/open-letter/

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