BenPaddon.co.uk

When I went to San Diego for Comic-Con last month I was lucky enough to find some great accommodation at a perfect price - free. Michelle and David were happy to put me up, even though they were in Europe for the first two days of the Con. They were very much there for the weekend though, and we had a fantastic time hanging out. We were all thinking the same thing - “Why don’t we do this more often?” - to which the response is “Well, what’s stopping us?” Last Monday (the 11th) happened to be Michelle’s birthday, and she planned a karaoke night on Friday. So on Friday I went into work for three hours, and then hopped in a taxi to Burbank Train Station and, from there, caught a train to San Diego. Twice in the space of a month. Crazy, eh?

What a weekend, though. Karaoke, Tropic Thunder, Rock Band, and spending time with people I don’t see nearly enough of. I just wish I could do it every weekend.

Perhaps the nicest thing one person can say to another is, “Have you lost weight?” And it’s something I’ve been hearing on and off for the past month or so. Michelle asked me if I’d lost weight when we had lunch back in July about a week or two before Comic-Con, for instance. A couple of people at work have commented on it as well. Most recently was this weekend, when Michelle flat out told me that I’ve lost weight.

After months of not really looking at myself in the mirror for fear of what I might see, I had a proper look last night before I went to bed. And I was not as disgusted as I expected to be.

Now I’m sure there are people out there who’ll think to themselves, “But Ben, you’ve always been very tall and kind of thin. Did you really put on that much weight?” - the answer is, “No, probably not.” I put on a noticable amount of weight, but I’m not gigantic. I just started to get a bit of a spare tyre around the midriff. The last two times I’ve gone back to visit family in England they’ve made a point of constantly reminding me that I’m a little tubbier, though, with Westy in particular making a very conscious effort to crush my spirit and leave me an empty husk of a human being (his excuse was “If I make fun of you it’ll motivate you to lose weight,” which is bollocks). Similarly the first thing my Mum said when I visited her back in March was, “Oh my word, look at the size of you!”, which was… well, not nice. In fact the only person to say anything nice about my physique was Patrick, who said I had broader shoulders (which was probably a more polite way of saying “You’re fat,” but he was nice about it so I’m giving him points anyway).

It’s another example of England making me feel inferior, and playing on my insecurities. I’m better than that, and I’m going to prove it.