October 22nd, 2004

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An Excerpt from my Autobiography "FAT"

Chapter One, "Kelly Marie"

.... My name was supposed to be Kelly Marie. However, once my chubby little body had made an entrance into the world, what choice did my mother have but to name me Melissa Ann? Clearly, I wasn't a Kelly Marie. Kelly Marie's are happy, blonde babies. I had dark hair, big feet, and an eerie stare. I could projectile vomit. Can you imagine a Kelly Marie with the ability to spew vomit across the room?

What's remarkable about the change in my name is the lengths my mother went to in order to explain it. My Grandma chose it, she told me. There were seven other Melissa Ann's born that day, and what could she do but buckle under peer pressure? The nurses told her I wasn't a Kelly and wouldn't let her name me that. The simple truth, that she just changed her mind, wasn't enough of story. My mother fed me on a diet of quirky, harmless lies. She gave me stories to tell. That to this day I sometimes can't separate fact and fiction is inconsequencial.

Besides, lying is practically the family's stock in trade. We're good liars, all of us (well, the women). And so, if a good, quality series of lies was born right along with me, so what? I've told my stories to my friends. Did I mean to lie to them - No. I never mean to lie. I make a point not to lie to people that matter to me. However, because I was told stories like the story of Kelly Marie, I believed it. My history then, is checkered, not because of any shady actions, but because from the start, my story has been a work of fiction.

(Over the next few posts, I plan to continue with exceprts like the above. Not that the book has been written yet, or anything, but because I feel like it.)