Big: (adj) of considerable size, extent or intensity.
That’s what everybody used to call me.
It was their way of acknowledging that I was a large person without using terms like chubby, tubby, overweight, portly, plump or God forbid–fat.
But as I grew older and wiser, I realized that behind every use of the word “big” was a parenthetical inclusion of “fat.”
Even though politeness is very polite, it is often misleading, if not flat-out lying.
I was able to pull off “Big Jon” for a long time because I could lift couches, play sports, and pant and sweat my way to physical equality.
But age caught up with me, and the passing years have robbed me of the courtesy of being big, and just made me obese.
For the record, there is absolutely no charm in “Obese Jon.”
When is it good to be big?
I was told when I was younger that having big dreams, big plans and big goals was a sign of vision. Then I realized that this particular view of life could blind you with ambition, leaving you stumbling in the darkness of despair.
Somewhere in between small and big lies real.
It’s what we’re all looking for.
It’s that part of the mission of our life journey which is achievable instead of under-promoted or overwrought.
I have reached a time when I need to stop being so big.