Weightless. Gregg McBride

      The diet “additions” I would procure myself. My dad would only buy food at the market that he deemed “healthy or diet-approved.” Dad’s weekly shopping routine was always a drag.

      After he brought the groceries home, we would gather in the living room as a family. This was when my mother would present my father with a list of what I had done wrong the previous week. Dad would then take off his belt. I would have to drop my pants and underwear. And then my mom would watch as my dad spanked me for a week’s worth of bad deeds.

      It was horrible and I would always end up crying. I’m not sure which was worse—the physical pain or the mental anguish. One time I was crying so loudly that Mom told my dad to stop. For a moment I thought she was rescuing me from his forceful blows. Instead she said, “Hold on a minute. We don’t want the neighbors hearing him cry.” They waited for me to calm down and then resumed the spanking.

      Lori didn’t suffer this wrath as often as I did. I was doing my best to form a protective layer around her. And for some reason, my parents seemed to respect that. It was as if anything my mom or dad had to say to Lori would be disseminated through me. I was basically in charge of raising both Lori and myself. Dad wasn’t there except for Saturdays, and Mom was never around, except when she brought stray men to the apartment for torrid sex sessions.

      From time to time Lori and I did have major arguments. I was always “on” her to get dressed or to do her homework. I was the “parent” in charge of making lunches, cooking dinner, and doing everything else in between. But even during the arguments, Lori and I always remained a team—along with our Irish setter, Mac, who loved us both dearly.

      All this time Mom and Dad continued harping about my weight. Cheating on my diet was worthy of a spanking or two on Saturday afternoons. My father took me to the hospital to have the doctor assign me a new diet (which equated to a new Xeroxed copy of the old one). Or when grocery shopping, he still purchased only what he deemed “proper diet food.” My mother, meanwhile, tried to threaten me by saying she wasn’t going to buy me any new clothes and that when I grew out of my current size, I would be out of luck.

      I knew I wasn’t going to be walking around naked in two months. Their threats meant nothing to me. In fact, they taught me a wonderful lesson: Gaining weight makes the parents unhappy.

       So screw you, Mom and Dad. I’m eating a box of Twinkies.

      I was making daily trips to the grocery store just a couple of blocks from our house. I would come home with a full bag and immediately take it to my room. If Mom or Dad happened to be around, I would have to be careful to hide the food from them. This meant being stealth-like about the trash as well; I couldn’t risk them discovering any empty junk food packaging. Luckily I was in charge of all the household chores.

       High School Gregg’s Typical Daily Binge

      1 large pack of Nutter Butter Peanut Butter Sandwich Cookies

      1 large pack of Chocolate Chip Cookies

      6 cans of Snack Pack Chocolate Pudding

      8 Hot Dogs (eaten raw or cooked)

      8 slices of American Cheese

      Ketchup, Mustard, Miracle Whip

      1 gallon of Chocolate Ice Cream

      6-pack of Coca-Cola