Connor Edison

Thomas Edison spent over two years inventing the light bulb. He tried OVER NINE THOUSAND different times before he got it right.

Sometimes success takes time. Sometimes it takes multiple attempts.

Tomorrow morning, I’m starting again. I’m going to lose weight. I have started more diets than I can count. Probably not nine thousand, but enough that I see that look of grim but accepting disbelief in the eyes of my friends when I say I’m starting a diet. I’m the boy who cried wolf. And then cried wolf again and again. And again.

Well, fuck ye all. I’m starting again.

I’m enormous. I have over fourteen stone to lose to get to a healthy weight. But I’m not going to think about that. I can’t. I’m going to take it one day at a time, like a good alcoholic.

I have to. I now have pretty much permanent pains in my knees and ankles. And recently my shoulders and wrists have started acting up a lot more too. I constantly feel like I’m carrying a really heavy backpack. I’m permanently tired. I bruise my arms on the bus regularly because I don’t fit down the aisle and I bang into the seats as I find somewhere to sit. I’ve had to throw away three different pairs of trousers recently because my bulk tore them. I get headaches and backaches. I pant. I’m slow. I find myself sitting further and further from desks and tables. My waist is almost as long around as I am tall. It’s almost as if I want to end up in a wheelchair. Or dead.

I don’t.

I believe in a better tomorrow. I’ve been in a happy place a lot recently. I’m whispering now, but I think I might actually be able to do this.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun!

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