THE DAY I REALISED I WAS FAT: A JOURNEY OF SELF-DISCOVERY AND RESILIENCE
I've always been physically big and strong, but I distinctly remember the day I realised I was fat. I was ten years old, and a kid was playing the "Beat Damien Up" game. This time, I fell and landed on one of my bullies. The next day, he showed up at school with his hand bandaged and his arm in a sling. That was the day it hit me: I was fat.
It didn't help that my bully came from a wealthy family and was athletically blessed. He was part of that elite group of boys who ran, swam, and played tennis—the ones girls swooned over and other boys wanted to be. This particular bully had his goons soften me up before he joined in. My supposed best mate stood by and watched as three boys asserted their dominance over me. His final words to me were chilling: "Stay down." But staying down wasn't something I had ever learnt.
"Stay down, don't make a fuss, get back in your place. It's always been this way, and it always will be." These were the words I heard repeatedly—not from my family, but from people who were supposed to be my mates. These words shaped my teen and young adult years. They became an internal mantra, echoing in my mind whenever I faced adversity. I felt trapped in a cycle of low self-esteem and self-doubt, believing I had to accept my place as the target of ridicule.
I wish I could say I had a moment of clarity and stood up for myself, but I was only ten. My bully proudly announced in class that his hand was hurt because "Damien Verner" (I was the only Damien in the school—no idea why he needed to include my last name) had sat on it. In reality, I was pushed over and accidentally grabbed him as I fell down an embankment. When I tried to defend myself, my teacher told me, "This is what happens when you hurt people." That moment was a turning point, reinforcing the idea that I was to blame for my own suffering.
I'm grateful I have zero contact with most of my old classmates. Although I'm sure they've changed, I set all my alumni emails to go straight to junk mail. The memories of those years are too painful to revisit, and I prefer to focus on the present and the future.
As I grew older, I realised I needed protection from the constant bullying. I don't look back at my younger self with disgust anymore. When I see old pictures, I see a caring, kind, and loving person who had to protect himself. I wrapped myself in the comfort of food—biscuits and lamingtons from my Nan, Jaffa chocolate slice from my mum, or banana chicken (actually fish curry, but I didn't eat fish, so mum called it chicken), jelly, and ice cream from my great aunt. These foods became symbols of love and comfort, a way to shield myself from the harsh realities of my social world.
It wasn't until my great aunt and Nan passed away that I realised it wasn't the food itself that brought comfort. I could recreate all their recipes, even adding Nan's special touches. The real comfort came from spending time with people who loved me. The warmth of their kitchens, the sound of their laughter, and the feeling of being cherished were what truly nourished my soul.
In retrospect, my journey has taught me that resilience is born from adversity. I now look back at my younger self with pride, knowing that despite the bullying and the pain, I emerged stronger, kinder, and more compassionate. The love and support from my family shaped me into the person I am today.
My story is not just about being bullied for my weight; it's about understanding the deeper connections that shape our identities. It's about realising that true strength comes from within and that the most important thing is to surround yourself with people who genuinely care about you. The journey was long and often painful, but it taught me valuable lessons about self-worth, resilience, and the true meaning of love.
Today, I use my experiences to help others who might be going through similar struggles. I want them to know that they are not alone and that there is hope. We all have the power to rise above our circumstances and find our own paths to happiness and fulfilment. My story is a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit and the transformative power of love and kindness.
