Big Like The Earth

I don't know what switched on in my 6 year old nephew's head, but he has finally realized I'm fat. 

"Holly, you are big like the Earth," he said, matter-of-factly as he ate MY snacks. 

Then later that week, as I sat minding my own business, trying to swallow down a low calorie salad bowl, he waltzes in my room and announces, "If you keep eating like that, you are gonna be overweight." 

"Really?" I snorted, trying to pick the last piece of unseasoned meat out of the bowl. "Tell me about it." 

He also likes to lean against me while I'm working because I, "Feel like a big pillow."

His remarks don't hurt my feelings or upset me. He is just a kid making observations. But they do annoy me. For the first time in my life I am seriously trying to do better. I could do without the commentary.  

Recently I hurt my knee and need a walker to get to the bathroom and back. It's not cute, which I'm painfully aware of. As I'm trying to get my footing using it he goes, "Hey Holly, old people use those too."

I took a deep breath then continued to struggle drag my way to the toilet. 

The truth is, I am big like the Earth. And hopefully, a year or two from now, if the aliens haven't come, my life will be a testimony to my nephew of what happens when you work hard and decide to make a change in your life. I would like my nephew to see me have energy, something I've never had. I want him to see me run, something I've always wanted to do. I want 40 years of fatness to be a distant memory for an Instagram reel. By the time he's nine, I want him to be like, "Holly, do you remember that time you were big?" And we will both laugh about that time so long ago because by then, I will be fit like a baddy.