Subjects for Task Two

There are two people I'm thinking about interviewing, my mom or my wife's grandmother, Anita. My mom would be easier to interview because I live with her and Anita lives in Ft. Morgan, CO.
They each will have very interesting stories to tell. My mom is in her early sixties and grew up in the Kansas City area, going to high school in downtown Kansas City, KS. Anita is about 20 years older than my mom. I know they lived in Oklahoma for a little bit and her husband fought in a war, not sure which one though. Other than that, I don't know much about her. I think my wife would like to hear what her grandmother has to say about education and life back then.
The questions will probably be the same for both of them. What was it like going to school, from elementary to high school? Did you go to college and why, was it as important then as it is now? What was more important, becoming a house wife and establishing a family or getting an education? Why did you take the path that you did?
The one problem I see surfacing on this task is turning their experiences into a story. I think if I incorporate their emotions at the time of their decisions that should help create a storyline. 

Peer Review Response

What would you like to see changed? 
-Being a non-traditional student I would like to get feed back from other non-traditional students. Not that the younger students are not as smart as the older ones, I think they aren't as critical or experienced.   

How would you like for it to be done?
-Maybe have the reviewer take the paper home and review it similar to the way you do it. Instead of them writing on the paper itself, they can write on an outline template, like the one we got in our writing lab. Then as they read, they can write down the thesis, supporting details and the conclusion, if it's clear. 
-Having 4 people in a peer group is too many. 

Is there too much time in class that is devoted to peer review?
-I think by going to smaller groups there will be less time spend on peer review. 

Task One: My Struggle of Life-Long Acceptance

“My Struggles of Life-Long Acceptance”

As an obese person in a society of super models and rock hard bodies it’s been a daily struggle of acceptance and one of humiliation at times. I’ve never felt like I belonged. From my childhood to today I’ve had to endure society exposing me to what they considered acceptable. Whether it was my GI Joe actions figures, sports players or actors society has unintentionally placed a stigma on accepting obese people.     

            As a child, I knew I was different from the other kids because of my weight. Not knowing why or how I got the way I was. I just knew I was bigger than the other kids. I never let it keep me from having fun and being a kid, like some kids I know. I wasn’t scared to play pick-up football and baseball games with my buddies. I never shied away from terrorizing the neighborhood on my bike either. There wasn’t much that I didn’t do because of my weight.  

            Year round, I was involved in the community sports programs. I started when I was about 6. My summers were spent playing baseball and my falls were for soccer. I even tried basketball once just for fun. The one vivid memory I have from playing sports is I was always the slowest kid on the team. My weight issues obviously had something to do with it. During baseball season one year, I was told that if my legs would go as fast as my arms, I would be faster. It would be like having a car where the front and back wheels went around at two different speeds. My mom would sign me up year after year for any and every sport I wanted to play. In her opinion, it was a good way for me to develop team work skills and it didn’t allow my weight to become a life-long crutch. She knew I wasn’t the fastest or the best player on the teams, but she signed me up anyways. She told me to do my best at whatever sport I played because that’s all the coaches wanted from me. There were games that I never got to play in or hardly got to play in because of my weight and ability. Even with all of the obstacles I faced as a child because of my weight, I never let it keep me from enjoying myself and having fun.

            Being a teenager was a very challenging and fun time period of my life. Not only did I have to deal with the regular hormonal issues and body changes that come at that stage of life. I also had to deal with additional body changes due to the excess weight I had been carrying for years. They weren’t very flattering changes either. There was no overcoming my new body composition, it was what it was.

            Football was one sport that I found enjoyment in. If it wasn’t for football, my teenage years would have been unbearable. This was the one sport that my weight was helpful in. I was still the slowest on the team, but I was also the hardest to move. Being “short and stocky” as some people would say, made me the perfect practice dummy. One of my teammates actual referred to me as “the human shot put”. Even though I was a great practice dummy, I hardly got any playing time in the games. The only time I got to play was when my team was up or down by 20 or more points. Needless to say, I didn’t have a very stellar high school football career. Maybe with the right workout routine and some direction from the coaches, I would have been able to improve my skills as an athlete. This is really when I started to notice the way my weight had an impact on my life. I’m assuming the coaches thought that I was a lost cause because of my weight issues, I’m not sure. I do know this, the kids that got all the direction from the coaches and playing time were those that were fit and athletically gifted. It pains me to look back and realize what I could have been with the right guidance and a little hard work.  

            In my early twenties is when my weight really started to balloon out of control. With no organized sports programs and being able to eat and drink whatever I wanted too, year after year I was buying larger clothes. I went from 3X shirts to 4X, then 5X and finally 6X. At this point, I was around 425 pounds, I guess. When you’re that big the thought of stepping on a scale isn’t very appealing. I would compare it to getting your teeth pulled without anesthetic. My pant size was an astonishing 68 inches. The average man has a 40 inch waist. I was nearly double that. To put in perspective, I was as round as I was tall. Not everyone can say that about themselves.

            Being that big, life truly sucked. I wasn’t able to do the simplest things like use a seat belt, fit into booths at restaurants or sit in normal sized chairs. There are three major incidents that really stick out as moments of clarity on just how big I really was.

The first was: I was invited to a buddy’s house for dinner. We all sat down to eat, out of nowhere there was a snapping sound, similar to someone breaking a stick into two. Next thing I know, the wooden arm of the chair I was sitting in, was on the floor. We all laughed about it, but deep down I was truly embarrassed. This was the first time we had been invited to their house for dinner; I was hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

The second one is similar to the first but this time it was at a movie theater. My nephew and I went to see the “Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King.” It was a holiday, so we got there early to get good seats and we did. Our seats were in the front row of the second tier, probably the best seats in the place. As I was wiggling my way into the seat, the bottom fell out from underneath me. My hips and legs were so big they had pushed the arms of the chair wider than they were designed to be. The worst part was I didn’t even fall down when it happened. My hips were so wide they wedged me into place. Needless to say we had to go find the manager, get our money back and go to a different theater with arm rests that adjust up and down.

The third and I would say the most humiliating moment was about 5 years ago when I started a new job as a CAD technician. I had to ask my supervisor to order me a larger office chair. Here I was, first week on the job and I already needed a new chair. The one they original gave me was a top of the line ergonomically designed chair. It was designed for a normal sized person thou. Certain parts of the chair were made out of hard plastic which left bruises on the back side of my thighs. Even at the widest settings, it still wasn’t big enough. The chair they ordered me was huge.   I knew I needed to change, I just didn’t know how.

            As time went on, I was trying to find my place in society that didn’t want me. Society made it loud and clear about not accepting me. Everywhere I went I was stared at like I belonged in a traveling freak show, with the bearded lady and the lizard man. I could hear the Ring Master making the announcement, in my head. “Come one, Come all to see the quarter ton man, I promise folks he won’t eat you”.

            Sitting in the confines of my personal sanctuary, I was stuck doing my nightly routine of watching TV. As I flipped through the channels, I came across a new reality TV show. It was called “The Biggest Loser”. Little did I know the impact it was going to have on my life. It was a TV show about extremely over-weight people, just like me.  This was the first time as an adult I felt accepted by society. Here I was glued to the TV watching a weight loss show with millions of Americans on a weekly basis. Season one aired over a 14 week time period and left me asking myself one thing, could I lose weight like they did? I had my doubts because I had more weight to lose than anyone on the show did. I saw how happy they were after losing their weigh, I wanted and needed that. Was this going to be my ticket to social acceptance? Six months later season two aired, the contestants were bigger and closer to my size. Once again, I was glued to the TV watching the contestants lose weight. Week after week they were winning back their lives they had lost or never had. Before I realized it something had come over me, my emotions had gotten the best of me. There I was tears streaming down my face like I was at a funeral service. I was at a funeral, a funeral for my unhealthy lifestyle. It was time to change; now I needed to find the resources to do so.

            The next day, I woke up with a yearning to change. I found a fitness center in the building next door to where I worked. After checking it out and talking with one of the fitness trainers, I knew this was it. The Yards Athletic Club was going to be where my life was going to change in ways I never could have dreamed of.

            November 8^th, 2005 is when I started my lifestyle change. Before I could get started I needed to know one thing, my weight. There I was standing in front of the scale trying to prepare myself for what I was going to see. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the scale and closed my eyes for what felt like an eternity. A few seconds went by and I finally opened my eyes to see what years of neglect would look like. The scale delivered a blow that I had been preparing for my entire life. Like a prize fighter preparing for the biggest fight of this life, I was ready for it. In big red numbers the scale screamed 451. I wasn’t shocked, I was embarrassed, embarrassed that I had let myself get to the point. Those numbers 4-5-1 were burned into the deepest parts of my soul. At the same time 4-5-1 ignited a fire inside of me that still burns to this day.

            Pound by pound I was getting my life back, a life that I never knew I was missing. After a few months of healthy habits, I started to notice huge changes. I no longer needed to use the elevator at work. I bounded my way to the second floor using the stairs, like a large cat climbing a tree. My special ordered office chair was turning into an over-sized lounge chair with wheels. For the first time since buying my car I was able to use the seat belt. I no longer had to stare at the seat belt light that constantly reminded me of my old self. It was the little things of life I had been missing out on, that most people take for granted. Overcoming the little obstacles was bringing me closer to my goal of social acceptance.

            It’s been almost 5 years since I decided to change my lifestyle. I’ve had moments of weakness and triumphs of mass proportion. I’ve lost over 160 pounds and plan to lose more. I no longer get stared at in public like I use too. Whether society has accepted me or not, I don’t care anymore. I’ve accepted who I am and that’s what really matters.

On Becoming a Chicano Response...

One word comes to mind when I think about my racial identity. That word is Caucasian. Being from and living in a town that is 85% Caucasian I’ve never had to go through any struggles with racial identity.


Most of the struggles I had to endure during my life aren’t skin color related. They are weight related. Being an over-weight kid, I was always picked on. I was called every name in the book that’s associated with being over-weight. Names like lard-ass, tub-o, dough boy and jelly belly. The name calling got to me on occasion. I spend a few days in I.S.S. for my actions against those that were calling me names. Thanks to my mom, I was good about ignoring them, for the most part and moving on. She would tell me, "Son they just don’t understand, that’s why they have to make fun of you."

As I’ve gotten older and tried to manage my weight. I’ve tried to leave the old habits and mentalities behind, similar to what Rodriguez did. He made a choice to leave behind the culture he was raised in and all the stigmas that come with it and so am I. Some of my old eating habits I’ve been doing since I was 5 and 6 years old. I think it’s just a matter of controlling those old habits and learning how to live with them now. I understand and know where those old habits can take me and that’s a place I never want to go back too.

How It Feels to Be Colored Me Response...

What labels do you give yourself?


• After thinking a little bit about labeling myself, I’ve come to this conclusion. I have a number of labels that reflect who I am. I’m a husband, son, brother, family man, friend, student and a role model.

How does your self-identity function in your day-to-day life?

• I’m astonished by the number of labels/roles I have on a daily basis. They all function well together; at least they did before school started. It’s a daily struggle now, trying to balance all of them. The student label right now seems to be taking up majority of my time.

• As important as school is, I need to find a balance for all of them. Being a husband is the most important label I have. The day I decided to become a husband, I made a vow to love, cherish, comfort and support my wife, until death does us apart. She is allowing me to pursue my education and find a career that I’m going to enjoy and that’s going to take care of our wants and needs. I would be ignorant if I were to neglect my label/role as husband.

• Not that I would purposely neglect any of my labels. I think that some of them take priority over others. Take for instants, the son and brother label/role. My mom and sisters know that I love them with all of my heart and I would do anything for them. They understand I have several others labels/roles that take priority over being a son and brother. I do what I can, when I can. I just hope that’s enough. Right now it has to be.

• Being a role model/student on a daily basis is challenging, some days are better than others. While at MWSU, I try to set a good example for the other students. By saying thank you when someone holds the door for me and I try to hold the door for others. Some of my classmates have seen me in the fitness center. They don’t know my journey of weight loss, but they see me taking the proper steps to live a healthy life. It’s those little actions that never seem to be noticed, but are. As a non-traditional student I’m sure some of the younger students look up to me and the other non-traditional students. Whether they want to admit it or not.

Compare your concept of self with Hurston’s, as she expresses it in the essay.

• I agree in part with her concept. I have ideas and feelings, about myself, that can be both priceless and worthless. It’s those unique ideas and feelings that make me different from everyone else. Being different is a good thing. This spinning mud ball would be really boring if everyone was the same.

Task One Project: Ideas

I have a number of ideas for Task One. They range from "Being an Over Weight Person" to "Significant Family Members Passing Away."
There are several issues I may run into with writing about some of my ideas. For starters, how emotional am I going to get. There was some pretty bad stuff done to me as a kid for being over weight that tends to take me places I don't like to go, mentally. Same thing with stirring up emotions of family members passing away. Most recently was my father. He passed away on Oct. 24th of last year. That wound is still really fresh. Heck, I'm living in the house that he lived in for the past 7 years. I get reminded daily that he's gone. I guess it would be easier to deal with emotions of being an over weight kid and turning it around, then dealing with passing family members.
I want to make sure I pick a subject that's going to give me several different options for supporting material. At the end of the day, this Task is about experiences and events in life that has made me who I am. I guess the main topic is going to be ME.  
 

Right of Passage: Junior Sage

The one person in my family that really sticks out, I never met. Junior Sage, this was my mother’s father. He died at the age of 37, from throat cancer. The ironic part is; he never smoked a day in his life. From what I’ve been told, he was “The Man” of the family. Even my father talked highly of him. 

There’s one story of Junior that really stands out in my mind is; when he found out my aunt’s 1^st husband was beating her.  Junior and my oldest uncle (his oldest son) found the guy at the local bar, drunk of course. They escorted him to the diner down the street, feed him and made him drink coffee to sober up. Once they felt he was sober enough, they drove him out into the country and then proceeded to beat the crap out of him. They were even nice enough to drive him home. Granted this was back in the day, when this type of retaliation was accepted. Junior told him, “If he ever laid another hand on his daughter again, he would get the same treatment.” Apparently he did do it again, this time my aunt handled it by shooting him to death. 

It’s stories like this and many others that I’ve been told over the span of my life, that make me wish I would have been able to meet the man they called “Junior”. This is why they call me “Jr.” It’s out of respect for a man that I never had the pleasure of meeting. “The Man” that help mold this family into what it is today; a family of faith, love and compassion.