I’m a big guy.

Very big.

Ohhh, that it were all muscle, but alas that ship has sailed.

I’ve struggled with my weight since puberty. I was a skinny little thing till around 7th grade. I remember my first pair of husky pants from K-mart. It was not a fun day.

Since then it’s been a battle. Up. Down. Up. Down.

When I hit 35 I lost the weight, started running, and was for the first time ever below 190. I hovered around 185 for almost five years.

In fact, unbeknownst to me, a new group of friends I made after 9/11 referred to me as hot Jeff. There were four of us Jeff’s in our group. Suit and tie Jeff and I still friends. But yes, until I moved to California to go to grad school that was how they referred to me.

Alas.

Three months before I moved my dad died.

Two months before I moved I broke my foot. My running days were over.

Then.

I started grad school.

Them to make matters worse over Xmas break my appendix burst. 8 days in the hospital. Two months before normalcy returned.

When I looked up I’d gained all the weight back. Plus some.

Hot Jeff was fat.

I’ll stop for a second and say I’m not looking for sympathy or compliments. Just observing something I’ve discovered lately.

As a big guy, I’m aware of the space I take up.

I’m extremely uncomfortable at the theater because I withdraw into the smallest being I can be so as not to make my neighbors miserable. Adam buys aisle seats when he can.

I’m alway at the window on an airplane because I can once again curl into a ball and hug the wall.

At the grocery store, at the mall, at a bookstore I’m very aware of my space in the aisle so I say excuse me a lot.

Actually. I say sorry.

I apologize for taking up space.

And I realized about a week ago I spend a lot of time at work apologizing for taking up space.

Sorry for being in your way.

At the wait station.

At the host stand.

Behind the bar.

Making coffee.

I say sorry about ten thousand times a night.

Thing is, I’m not the only person who takes up space at work. And I’m not referring to weight.

Everyone has a job to do. Everyone has a reason for being where they are.

So why, do I feel like I’m not allowed to take up space. It’s a psychological response to being big.

So I’m saying all of this out loud to own the fact that I’m allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to be where I am. I’m allowed to own my presence.

I’m allowed to stop apologizing for being a big guy.

That is all.