Albuquerque Tribune Article #4

The Albuquerque Tribune September 17, 2004 A fitting chance: Young, fat and not saved by the bell Jennifer W. Sanchez -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My first crush was Fermin, the dreamiest boy in my second-grade class. His hazel eyes and gentle smile made me blush each time he'd walk by my desk. I'll never forget the day we were teased. My classmates and I were eating burgers and tater tots for lunch in the school's red-brick cafeteria. I was excited because I was just a few seats away from Fermin and his friends. To embarrass me, a boy in my class said, "Hey, this is Jenny," and picked up a milk carton. Then he said, "And this is Fermin," and he squashed a tater tot with the carton. Everyone started laughing, except for Fermin. He hung his head and didn't say a word. I didn't know where to hide my 7-year-old chubby body. I wanted to die. Instead, I scurried into a bathroom stall and cried. I cried a lot growing up because I hated being fatter than the other kids. Actually, I also cried as a 28-year-old newspaper reporter early this year. Up until about six months ago, I was disgusted with myself. At 346 pounds, I was mad at myself for spending most of my life on fad diets, losing hundreds of pounds and gaining it all back. In March, after being on a waiting list for more than a year, I underwent gastric bypass surgery at University of New Mexico Hospital. A surgeon and crew stapled my stomach from the size of a football to the size of an egg, forcing me to eat less and lose weight. Enough was enough, I had decided. I didn't want to be a part of the increasing obesity statistics. In New Mexico, 57 percent of adults are overweight or obese, according to the National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion. When it comes to New Mexico kids, 22 percent of low-income children between the ages of 2 and 5 are overweight or at risk of being overweight, according to the center. It's tough growing up heavier than other kids. In my third-grade physical eduction class, I was devastated when the coach told me my weight in front of the whole class. At 90-something pounds, I weighed more than any other girl there. At home, my mother tried to control how much I ate and always told me: "You need to stop eating. You're going to get sick. Get on a diet." My mom did her best to feed her family of six on a limited budget, and so our groceries didn't include lean turkey and chicken breast. We ate refried beans, Mexican rice, carne and papas and homemade tortillas loaded with lard. When I was about 11, I wrote to God in my diary asking him to please let me die because I didn't want to be a fat girl. I was tired of mean boys calling me gorda. I dreamed of being tall and lanky. I wanted to look like Barbie. Shopping for school clothes was the worst. I could never fit in the clothes I wanted to wear. I'd sit on the floor of Mervyn's dressing room quietly crying as my mother scolded me for being overweight. In high school, I had to learn how to deal with rejection. At roughly 220 pounds, I didn't interest most boys. I rarely went on dates. Many nights, I cried myself to sleep thinking: "Who could ever love a fat girl?" In college, as I gained more weight, the name-calling to my face stopped, but everyday life was tough. People are cruel. A woman at Target looks away in disgust. Guys snicker when you walk by. For me, after trying so many diets and failing, gastric bypass surgery was my last hope. Today, 26 weeks after my surgery, I've lost about 85 pounds. I wi**** was more, but my doctor says to expect to lose an average of 2 pounds a week. I can eat almost anything I want without getting sick, but I have to control my portions. I'm choosing healthier food such as salads, pretzels, cheese squares, celery and peanut butter. Sometimes, a couple of chocolate-chip cookies or a small piece of peach crisp also satisfies my craving for sweet spoonfuls of comfort. Overall, I'm happy with my progress. I've dropped between four and five dress sizes. I work out about five days a week for at least an hour. I take walks with friends. I'm rarely tired and always ready to go. Now, when I see overweight kids or teens at the mall, my heart aches for them. I know their pain. I know how they suffer. I know what it's like to want to be invisible. I pray that somehow, with or without the help of surgery, these kids eventually lose the weight. I hope they realize they have so much to live for. I hope someday they feel healthy and beautiful. I'm almost there. Sanchez, 28, is a Tribune reporter who is documenting her recovery from gastric-bypass surgery in a series of occasional columns. Call her at 823-3610 or send e-mail to jsanchez @ abqtrib .com. (take out spaces)