Back in Fifth Grade

It started as a misunderstanding.  I know this.  It doesn't matter.

A friend wrote a funny post on his Facebook page.  I commented--it was an inside joke between us.  One of his friends (an idiot--I have no doubt), wrote a long rant, in which he called me "fat boy." 

I haven't been called fat or fat boy, not to my face, anyway, in a very long time.  I mean, I'm 44.  Don't get me wrong.  I know people make comments.  But still, calling me fat boy?  On Facebook?

What was weird was, I felt as though I were right back in fifth grade.  I really did.  Still do.  But I'm not.  I'm 44.  I'm a fat man, not a boy.  Here's how I feel.  The dude is lucky he's in New York and not in LA.  Because I seriously would kick his ass.  I mean it.  It wouldn't really be about him.  Right now he represents for me all the asshole bullies who ever called me names. 

It's surprising how fast I can go from middle-aged lawyer guy to fifth grade object of ridicule.

I'm doing my best.  I'm not a loser.  He's an asshole. 

So I had a healthy breakfast and went to work. I did not feed the emotion.  Food is for hunger, that's all.  But goddamn.  Seriously.