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Wednesday, September 17, 2014

While in my 20's, I remember my father telling me that I could be perfectly healthy weighing 120 pounds. When I was 8 I started getting heavy. My mother worried since I was outside playing so much. My father would tell her to leave me alone and let me eat. He would take me swimming then buy me a hotdog and fries before stopping off for a Fresca and a little box of those chocolate cookies with the face drawn in on them. He just didn't worry about it. Growing up my father gave me a hot dog cooker, a Fry Baby, a popcorn popper and other assorted things to cook food. He never had a weight problem or a big appetite. My father was in the hospital in 1993 and was going to die. I remember telling him how excited I was to have gotten to 125 pounds. What a thing to be worried about telling him.

What I am trying to say is that others do influence us but as grown ups we have to take responsibility for our actions. It is up to me to make the necessary changes in my life. My father did the best he could. It's about forgiveness.

I am just letting my mind roam so please forgive the rambling thoughts. Thanks.
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