Joseph's Diary

[Joseph]

Yeah. Thought I should start one. Oh where to begin.

To begin with. For years. I was mocked, made fun of, and looked down on because of my weight and appearance. Everyone seemed to think that fat little Joseph had to stop eating. So for quite a time, I was, say having my own little dirty thirties. Always depressed you see. Supposedly kids aren't supposed to have depression. I say it's a lie. So for years, I would try and put off these pounds. Yet nothing would happen. Ever. So I was told, that it would one day just start to fall off as I got older. That was my thread of hope to hang on that one day, I might fit into the society of skinny people, and pretty people, so that I might feel "normal" on the outside. But reassured, I will never feel normal on the inside. Words hurt, no matter what you've been told, and to accept the cold hard facts is to take in all those hurtful words. Fat. Ugly. Stupid. Idiot. Deformed. Monster. You know, the classic words everyone just loves to throw out into any sentence. Well, those words became something I heard often being thrown in my direction. My family always tells me that I used to be the kid that smiles all the time and could never keep quiet. Now I'm the kid that never smiles and never talks. I guess bullying really does work. Any who. So one day, at around the age of eleven I believe, - I try and forget the exact date and age - my dog had become sick. This dog was the closest thing I had. I cherished her more than family. Her name was Cocoa. She was a chocolate Labrador. I loved her. Then she got sick. She bled. Internally. All over the floor. I remember. I was petting her, telling her it's going to be OK. Telling her it's time to go. Telling her to wait for me. I got up, left the kitchen, ( we had kept her in there, because that was the only tile, and cleaning up the carpet every hour was just work no one was willing to do. ) and went to my sliding door. My mom had gotten up to go to the bathroom. I had looked outside, and wondered when this is going to be over. I sighed, turned around, and went back into the kitchen. I bent down beside her, and put my hand on the now dead carcass, petting her so gently. I got up, went into my room, and cried. I cried for only a few minutes, but I cried. I had died inside. I felt like I just had my kidney stolen. From that day on, I stopped smiling. I stopped laughing. I stopped caring. I became bitter, and cold, and found my own ways to deal with it. I shut the door on everyone that I knew, and kept all my secrets and sorrow to myself. From that day on, I have never opened up much to anyone, and when I do, I'm sure to push them away. I don't want to care anymore. I like it better this way. When she had died, I also stopped caring about my look. How I looked, how I ate, I gave it all the boot and started to eat whatever I wanted, no matter how fattening it was. This lasted about a month. Then it calmed down. I stopped eating all this junk food, and went back to my life. I lived it the way I wanted now. No more smiles, no more laughs. I didn't care. And who ever didn't accept me for the new me,  I didn't care. Good bye. Then we jump into about eight months ago. I had gotten sick and tired of the way I looked. So I did something about it. I cut my hair, and I lost weight. Now, you must remember that when I was younger, I worked out. I ran. I tried to lose the pounds. But nothing. Anywhere. It never left. So I found an alternative. I just stopped eating all together. First I skipped lunch, then I skipped breakfast. The one meal I couldn't skip was dinner because well, I'd die very quickly, and my parents eat dinner with me, so I had to be careful about when I choose to eat and not eat. Eventually, they found out. I got yelled at. Then my grandparents found out. And they got the impression that they could run my life and tell me when to eat and when not. Boy did I have fun yelling at them. They had no business and they decided to barge in. But I accomplished my goal. I went from a fifteen year old at 240 pounds, down to a fifteen year old at 205 pounds. The range of weight for fifteen year olds is 200-225 pounds, so I'm satisfied. So I got skinnier, but I still had these mountains on my chest. They annoyed me much. So I asked my mom about them. We had gone into a specialist then, and she told me I have Gynecomastia. It's because my testosterone levels are way too high. I find it quite funny. Testosterone defines how deep your voice is, and body hair and such. How much of a man you are on the outside really. Yet, I was so much of a man, it gave me a feminine look. I found that hilarious. So, I kept on going on with my life. Just taking in the insults and pretending to laugh at peoples jokes about my "boobs". One day, I got fed up, and created a video on Youtube.
This video can be located here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEULoWSsi5U

Already, I had gained over 550 views. I felt proud, that people started to pay attention to me, and actually understand my pain. Seeing the comments on there, had given me inspiration. Something to remember each day when more rude comments about my chest were made. I end my story off with a 20 year old messaging me telling me how he was amazed that I could be so open about something at the age of fifteen. He then came along mentioning this place, where I joined immediately.

Some quotes he made that helps me get through the day:

• "Cant believe I don't have the balls to talk about it with anyone, Gynecomastia f***s up your life... How can you make a video about it? Thats amazing."
• "The shocking part is that your only 15,"

[manic91m9]

wow. i hope you forgive your grandparents and understand that they do what they do for u because of love (even if they are doing it all wrong) it is extremely important that you eat more than one meal a day, your metabolism will actually speed up and you will lose more weight by eating more healthy meals. gynecomastia certainly can make you look fatter than you actually are. you are calling people idiots for not understanding gynecomastia but that is not true, they are ignorant and why wouldn't they be? if you never had gyne there is little reason why you would know about it. people make comments about peoples physical appearance all the time. its important for people to not take comments to personally as the person saying them usually has put no thought into it at all. its my experience that although u may be right and that people shouldn't make comments, they will and you are only going to cause yourself more stress by being offended by it.

[Joseph]

Your words have meaning, and I have been keeping a healthy eating plan in action now. ^__^
As for my grandparents, I try to keep in mind that that's their intentions, and that it's only for the best.
And yes, I guess it may be bad on my part to make assumptions that people would be educated about something like this. A lot of people have never heard the word, and probably never will. Just as I have never heard a lot of medical terms, and will probably cease too even past my six feet under curfew. I'm not sure though that when I posted this rant, it was to get back at whoever called me names, or such. I live my life by what comes around goes around. I guess being angry and expressing it might have been my way of trying to educate people. As it is now a lot of my friends understand that it's not just because I eat too much, or too little. They understand, or try to understand that this is actually a medical issue, and that there is nothing that I can do about it at my age.