Another little piece of info from my past. The thing about my parents wasn't just the verbal or physical abuse. It was the obvious hatred in it all. They didn't just say or do mean things out of neglect or casualness. They were just evil. They enjoyed the pain they inflected on me, the hurt. It was fun for them.

I have extreme issues with my weight, always have. Even now I am big but I am also classically big boned. I have a large frame. Proportionally I am stronger than the average bear. But I am extremely aware of my weight. I can never forget it or go out and not feel like everyone is staring at me. The parents used to tell me things like they were embarrassed to be seen with me in public because of my weight. We would have family over and someone would say "hey, your looking good" to which the parents would reply "don't lie to him, he looks like crap". Nice to hear when you are 8 years old.

At one time I had asked for horse riding lessons. (I was about 8 or 9 and still naive about my situation and possibly getting something.) Rather than just say "no" or "no, we can not afford it" they told me I would break the horse's back if I got on him. It absolutely killed me on the inside because I believed it. I was not that big of a kid, nothing like some of the unfortunate children today who are truly obese. I was just husky. Weighed maybe 10 or 15 lbs more than other kids. That was the start of my efforts to starve myself. Of course it never worked out or helped, but I would try, try, try again. I even meddled with bulimia for awhile. I realize now though that it was nothing more than them being cruel yet again. Something for them to laugh about. To this day I can not look in the mirror without being disgusted. My wife tells me she loves the way I look and I can not understand why.

Somethings you can get over. I can not feel the bruises from all of the beatings. The scars are healed and barely noticeable now. The constant yelling no longer rings in my ears. But every time I look in that damn mirror...