The Weight of the World According To Harrison Carter

The Weight of the World - Chapter 1

The alarm on my phone blared, tearing me from a pretty decent dream. I was staring out at the ocean, the sea breeze brushing gently across my face and stirring my hair. I'm sure I even smelled the salt air. I was enjoying the sensation, but that just made the dream odd. I don't like the beach. I'm not comfortable taking my shirt off in public, so I wouldn't be at the beach.

It felt so real. But, as I'm roused from my sleep, I'm not looking out at the ocean's horizon, I'm looking at Nelly's ass. Nelly is my basset hound that loves sleeping in my bed with me. I think if you could ask her, I'm sleeping in her bed and she's accommodating me.

I roll out of bed, turn on my bedside lamp and grab my towel and what I hope is a clean pair of boxers from my floor. My mom may be right, it might be time to clean up this room. It's a mess. I think it's a metaphor for my life, but I don't want to dwell on that right now.

I walk quietly down the hall, trying not to wake anyone else. Being in high school we start at the ass crack of dawn, so I'm usually the only one awake. I close the bathroom door before I turn the light on. I turn on the water and then stand in front of the mirror, giving myself a careful inspection.

Normally these stories are about a hot kid, who finds another hot kid and falls in love. That isn't this story. For starters, I'm not hot. I'm overweight and self-conscious. I could, possibly, be described as cute. But, definitely not hot.

I know you're probably thinking that I'm too down on myself. I've heard it all before. I have to love me. Just be who you are. Blah blah blah. I get it. But, I'm a realist.

I finish staring at myself, brush my teeth, and hop in the shower. When I'm all finished I plod back to my room to get ready to face another day at school.

When I'm back in my bedroom I drop my towel on the floor and immediately chastise myself. I want to be neater and more put together. So, I grabbed it and hung it on my closet door to dry. Baby steps. I pulled on my boxers and turned and faced myself in the full-length mirror.

I start inspection number two of the day. I stare at my body. It is definitely not something I'm proud of. I rest my hands on my belly and splay my fingers out across it. It is big. I don't like staring at my body for too long because it usually spins me into a slump emotionally. I also find I complain about it too much. My friends are pretty great about cheering me up.

"Harrison, you aren't fat, stop being so down on yourself."

"Harri, you look great and we all love you."

"I love a guy with a bit of cushion."

That last one definitely does not make me feel better, but it's still very sweet. The longer I stare the more frustrated and angry at myself I become. When I was younger I used to run and I was active. I played outside. Weight was never an issue. In middle school, I slowed down and the weight started creeping. Then I got to high school and I just stopped moving as much. I tell myself I can lose this weight any time, but I never do much to make it happen. But, I do want to feel better about myself.

The knock on my door startles me out of my self-deprecation.

"Harri, can I come in?"

"Hold on mom, I'm not dressed."

"Sweetie, you're my baby, I've seen it all before."

"UGH, mom, just no. Don't say that ever again. Give me a sec."

I grab a pair of jeans and pull them on. I take a button-down from the end of my bed and start to button the buttons as I open the door for my mom.

"Oh, your Hawaiian print today? I like it."