The Weight of Sorrow
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Snap Studios. Can people really change for the better in life, in love, and in relationships? I'm Meredith Goldstein, longtime advice columnist at The Boston Globe and host of its podcast, Love Letters. In season 10 of Love Letters, we're asking one big question. Can people change? And if so, how?

Get ready to laugh, cry, and learn as guests tell real stories about resilience, transformation, and being better at being together. Listen or watch the new season of Love Letters wherever you get your podcasts. Snap Judgment is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. You chose to hit play on this podcast today, Smart Choice. Make another smart choice with AutoQuote Explorer to compare rates from multiple car insurance companies all at once.

Try it at Progressive.com. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. A friend of mine recently told me that whenever anyone has an outsized reaction about anything, the reaction is never about the thing. Like if your spouse gets furious at you for leaving the cap off the toothpaste, if y'all go into a fight about that,

It's not about the toothpaste. It's about something else. If she weeps because you gave her a teddy bear, it's not about the teddy bear. It's about something else. And I find that as my mother gets older, everything, everything we talk about, every word is about something else. What does, mom, what'd you have for breakfast? What's it mean? It means how are you? Are you getting around okay?

Will it upset you if I send you something? Are you capable of making a meal for yourself? Which members of your support system are still around? Are you getting the nourishment you require? Mom, are you okay? Mama, I have a deep guilt that I live a thousand miles away, but Mama, I love you. Know this, I don't say that. Instead I say, Mama, what you have for breakfast?

Heavy with the weight of a thousand suns, but make no mistake, there is joy here too. There is laughter. And today on Snap, we proudly present a story from a good son who loves his mother very much. Called "The Weight of Sorrow". My name is Glenn Washington. Best believe it is never about something else.

When you're listening to Snap Judgment. We begin with a story from our friend Ron from his amazing show, Wait For It. Between receiving the deserved awards for season one and the production of season two, creator and host Ronald Young Jr.'s mother became ill. During this period, Ronald noticed that despite going through the roughest time of his life, he still needed

Couldn't stop thinking about his weight. This is the season two premiere of Wait For It. Wait For It is a show about the way we feel about our bodies. Consequently, each episode may include references to gaining and losing weight, eating disorders, weight loss surgery, and weight stigma. If these topics are triggering to you, please take care while listening. We have links to support resources for anyone who may need them in our show notes. And the winner is...

Wait for it. It's Tuesday, March 26, 2024, and I'm in L.A. giving an acceptance speech at the Podcast Academy Awards. This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. It is because of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They're new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness. I want to say thank you to my family, my parents, Ronald Sr., my mother, Peggy Lee, my sister, Marilyn Denise, Bridget Quinn.

It's been an incredible year for Wait For It. Giving this speech was one of the culminating moments. And the winner is...

Wait for it. And because the show won awards in three different categories, it would be one of three 30-second speeches I'll give. Anybody who independently produces understands that you spend so much of your time, like, by yourself. You know what I mean? Like, you're writing and you're editing and you're cutting tape and you're doing all that, and then you have to wonder, like, is this good? Is this good? Are people even going to like it? But I guess I don't have to wonder anymore. I'm excited.

I'm proud. But I'm not exactly having a great time. About an hour before I give that speech, I get word that my mother was admitted to the hospital. She needed to have a procedure called paracentesis. She'd been experiencing some discomfort in her stomach from a condition called ascites, which is a fluid buildup. It's common for folks who have cancer, late stage cancer. She hasn't been feeling well for a while.

Her birthday was March 23rd, just three days before I give that speech in LA. I feel good about leaving because she seemed great on her birthday.

On that day, me, my sister Marilyn, and my dad were all at the house with her. We made brunch together, watched movies, and we laughed and laughed like we normally do. When my family gets together, there's often a lot of gentle teasing of one another as we share stories that some of us may have missed. It's always done with love and smiles. Like one time, my mother was telling me about my father's tendency to be early to the farmer's market.

on the side of the road at 7.25 in the morning wondering, how did I get out here? You're probably wondering, oh, I got here. Right. Then this guy goes and puts the money in the machine for three hours. In the parking meter. In the parking meter. What we gonna look at? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

I get back from L.A. on Friday, March 29th. By then, my mother was checked out of the hospital and back home.

I immediately went to my parents' house to see her. She seemed fine and like herself for the most part. We were talking in her office. It used to be my childhood bedroom. I spent a lot of time in this room. Now, so has she. Praying, studying the Bible, talking to us on the phone and FaceTime, sewing, watching her shows, sitting and thinking.

I asked her about what the oncologist said about her ascites. She mentioned a few things he'd said, but struggled to recall the specifics of what he told her. But she had an appointment the following week, and I told her I'd be joining her and dad this time. Then my dad walks in and asks how the awards ceremony went. We talk about that for a while and laugh some more. They seem proud of me. That feels good. I hug them and kiss my mom on the cheek and leave.

On Sunday evening, I get a text from my sister who mentions that she needs to talk to me about mom. She's worried. I'm worried. I call her and she tells me that mom is having gaps in her memory. She doesn't remember going to church that day. She doesn't remember the last few months. She doesn't remember that her mother died. She doesn't remember that she has cancer. I realized that her struggle to recall the details of her oncology appointment wasn't a coincidence. I'm stunned.

I'm scared. I don't know what to say or do. I eventually rally and go to the house and help look after mom for the next few days. I explain to her repeatedly that we're not sure what's happening in her brain, but she'll be okay. She doesn't remember exactly what's going on because she can't retain anything, but she knows something is wrong. And she keeps asking us, "What's wrong with me? Am I okay? Why does my head hurt so bad?"

We take her to the hospital on Wednesday, April 3rd, and we find out that she had a stroke. She actually had multiple strokes and farts in the brain. The young family was now on high alert. I dropped everything to be by her side as much as I could, alternating and working with Marilyn and my dad. We're all hypervigilant. We are a family of faith. We trust God to heal my mom.

But what we didn't know then was that March 26th was the beginning of the endgame. My mother was going to die. I'm Ronald Young Jr., and this is Wait For It. I noticed it in like late November, early December of last year.

Yeah, I remember the same. It was about December 2023. Right. Yes. Yeah. I saw mom. She walked downstairs. She looked at me and remember she stood there. She's like, hey, Ronald. I was like, hey. And I gave her a hug and I was like scared. That's me talking to my sister. My name is Marilyn Denise Young. I am your sister, your older sister. December 2023 was when we first noticed that my mother had lost a significant amount of weight.

Marilyn and I were talking about how we felt when we saw her. My first thought was, "Relax, Marilyn," because I tend to go way too far down the road. And it was startling to me because it felt like it was happening way too quickly. I thought, "Oh, God, what is this?" immediately. I was scared. I was very scared.

Seeing my mother made me think about Chadwick Boseman. Do you remember when Chadwick Boseman lost a lot of weight? Yes. I remember seeing him and thought, wow, he's really slim when he was in that nice white kingly looking outfit at the Oscars or something. One of those. And I remember thinking, he looks really nice. He seems thin. Chadwick Boseman, the actor who played T'Challa or the Black Panther as a part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

He also played the roles of important Black historical figures Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, and James Brown. He was beloved in the Black community. And personally, I'd become a huge fan of his career. And it's crazy because I did not see a lot of him before he passed away. Chadwick Boseman died of colon cancer in 2020. His death was a shock to many of us.

Most people didn't know he was sick until after he died. He kept it very private. And we misread the signs. There were discussions and even some headlines about the state of his body. He'd done a live stream for charity and a bunch of commenters were all talking about the fact that he was too skinny. Only a few commenters expressed actual worry or concern. It was more about the aesthetic.

For a long time, it was impressed upon me that losing weight was always a good thing. I'm used to thinking about my own weight, but noticing my mother's weight, especially in this way, was new. If you're straight-sized and have never been fat, it seems that you have a threshold for weight loss. You can read the limits of the threshold in people's faces and words. You haven't reached it as long as you're getting compliments and encouragement.

Typically, we don't get looks of concern or worry when we're losing weight unless we've exceeded that threshold. My mother had exceeded the threshold.

At other times in her life, I think she would have been happy to lose weight, would have loved to get compliments and congratulations. She was like, like as athletic as she could be. You know what I mean? And I feel like that was like, she was, I think because mom looked at herself in the mirror sometimes and was like, my face is chubby or like probably the same ways that you think about yourself. You know what I mean? And then when it got to the point where she wasn't eating or drinking, that's when we like, it was, it was just like, yo, we can't even, what are we, what are we doing here? You know what I mean? So.

But now, my mother was also concerned about her weight loss and was struggling with her appetite. Recently, I found a video on her phone where she reached out to a friend of hers who had beaten cancer for advice. Hi, Carolyn. I think we're playing FaceTime tag. Anyways, I just had a question. When did you get your appetite back? Yeah. Once a year.

Because I'm having difficulty with that. All right, then. Bye-bye. Most times I've seen my mother worried it was on our behalf. My father, my sister, or me. But in this video, I saw something in my mother that I recognized as I began to see it frequently in the months leading up to her death. She was worried and afraid of what was happening to her.

I don't know that Marilyn or I will ever be able to see a person lose weight and not think the worst ever again. I don't associate it with anything good. I think it's something horrible has happened. They're stressed. Even while we were going through it, dad lost a lot of weight and it was frightening. I don't remember a specific moment when I noticed my dad's weight loss. When you get older, the less time you spend around your parents, the less time you spend examining them.

But I do remember the first salient thought I had about my dad's suddenly lean frame. And it was, how could our bodies be so different? The second thought was, was he always this small? The physical differences between me and my dad are a deep source of insecurity for me. For a while, it was just height based. He stands at six feet tall and I'm five foot nine. But as I gained weight as an adult, I noted that he's much leaner than I am.

My dad is former military and goes to the gym every day. He's a fit person. He has broad shoulders and just looks like the type of person that if something went down, he'd be ready to go. Some of that is also in his personality. Former drill sergeant, longtime preacher and assistant pastor at my church. My dad is reliable and ready to support the people that he loves. Physically, he's just always looked like a solid person you can depend on.

But when my mom got sick, my dad got very stressed. With my mom's illness came the awareness of her mortality. Being there more meant that I began to examine my father more closely as well. I was worried about both of them. And it wasn't always dad's weight. It was the, you know, when somebody says they looked haggard, dad looked haggard in his face, you know, and that was frightening for us.

During this time, I didn't lose weight. I gained weight. Because unlike my father, I'm a stress eater. It's something I learned about myself because of something else that happened that involved my mother. 9-11. Yes, the actual 9-11. At the time my mother was working at the Pentagon, I was in leadership class when Cory McConnell ran by the door and said, they just flew planes into the Pentagon and World Trade Center. I ran to the band hallway where there was a phone and called my mom.

She immediately answered and she said she was fine. She was answering phones and being all, she like basically got staffed up for a temporary work detail while she was there because she didn't run and everybody else ran, which was wild. They sent us home. I went home and it was like, you know, you get out of high school like two o'clock. So it's 2 PM. I'm home.

And I remember the weekend before that mom had gone to Costco and she came home and she said, hey, Ronald, I got you these chicken enchiladas. That way, if you get hungry when you get off of school, you can eat some of these chicken enchiladas throughout the week. And I said, oh, thanks, mom. I was like, great.

She bought those chicken enchiladas on Saturday. 9-11 was on Tuesday. It was. It was on a Tuesday. So I hadn't touched those chicken enchiladas on Monday. On Tuesday, I get home and I'm like, I walk in the house and I'm crazy hungry. So I'm like, I eat some chicken enchiladas. And then the phone starts ringing off the hook. And I'm worried. And you called too because you were in Norfolk State. Yes. People from church. Right. Everybody around just being like, is mom okay? Is mom okay? And I'm getting worried and worried. Two things happened. One, I ate some chicken enchiladas. I'd answer the phone. And I'm like,

And then someone called again, I'd eat some more chicken enchiladas. And then someone called again, I ate some more chicken enchiladas. They were gone. And then I passed out on a nap for like two hours, two, three hours till dad came home. Hey boy. I'm like, okay, dad. So, and a mom didn't end up coming home till eight o'clock and I'm like, everybody's chill. You know what I mean? Like we good. And I think that's when I first realized that I was a stress eater. Wow. So during this entire process, uh,

And dad acknowledged it at one point too, because I like what happens is I won't eat for a while, like, cause I'm stressed. Yes. And then I'll like, I'll have a little bit of a relief and then I'll just eat everything. Anything in sight. I agree. Yes. Marilyn understood because she too is a stress eater. Mid twenties, relationships with some guy didn't work out, thought he was doing something. He didn't have no business. Let me eat this entire pizza, you know, that type of thing.

Or just sit watching TV, stressed, eating all the snacks in the house, which is why I don't keep snacks in the house now, which is crazy because I love snacks. I think I realized when I knew that you were a stress eater, we were dropping you off at Norfolk State University and you were going to be, we had dropped you off. We had brought all this food for you and you had your sheets and stuff. You're setting up the room.

while we were there, something had happened. I don't remember what it was. And you got, you were like, oh man, you got upset. And you goes, where are those Oreos? And this was like, and I remember dad, dad was like, you don't need to eat all those Oreos. He's like, when you get, when you get hungry, read the Bible. I think I know.

Marilyn and I were built differently than my dad. So during our mom's decline in health, while our dad is losing weight and looking haggard, Marilyn and I were gaining weight and probably still looking haggard. And despite this chaotic moment of crisis with obviously bigger fish to fry, both of us desired to be more like my father in the most inconsequential of ways.

People are going through stuff every day, hard stuff, and it affects you whether you like it or not. Dad tends to lose weight, which I would love to have that. Thank you. But no, I don't have that. I have the game. So, I mean, why would you love to have that? I would rather be smaller than I am, but that's, it's not a healthy thing at all because like, like we were frightened for dad if I was to, cause I unfortunately stress a lot less than I used to, but I tend to get stressed.

And, you know, I say I want that because I would look cute in my clothes, but you would still be stressed. I think that's one thing that gets me. I think the same thing. Like, I'm like, man, it must be a gift to lose weight when you are stressed. I hate that this is a real thought that we have. We're losing our mother. And both Marilyn and I agree that it would be easier if we were also losing weight.

And in the middle of this crisis, my thoughts on weight have gone into overdrive. I'm noticing weight all around me now more than ever. My moms, my dads, the doctors and nurses, other visitors, everyone. I'm wondering how they handle stress. I'm wondering what they think of me. And this isn't just in my head. I'm still getting validation from folks all around me that despite being in grief, me being fat is still up for discussion.

As I'm spending more time at church recently, I'm hearing the comments from folks who haven't seen me there in a while about how I look. I didn't recognize you because you gained so much weight. You're not running any marathons this year, huh? I used to have a gut like you, but I lost 30 pounds. After my mom died, my father, sister, and I went to the funeral home to plan the homegoing service arrangements. I remembered sitting there in a state of shock that we were doing this. It was surreal. But even in that moment, weight came up.

One guy, in an effort to be congenial with my dad, pointed out that he's in good shape as a 70-year-old man. He then says, I'm always wondering how Elder Young keeps the weight off. Apparently, my dad is still within the compliment and congratulations threshold of weight loss.

As we continued looking at caskets, I noticed that there was an additional cost for bigger caskets for folks over a certain weight, which I exceeded. That same weight limit existed for cremation. I thought to myself, whoever has to dispose of my body is going to have to pay extra.

I don't want to notice anyone's weight. And the way I try to offset the noticing is by making sure I never talk about it. I try not to engage in weight conversations outside of the discussions of this podcast, of course. But not talking about it isn't making me more liberated. It doesn't stop the noticing. Some of this is the byproduct of my instinctual urge to want to know if I'm the fattest person in a given room. This is similar to the way that I count black people in rooms that are largely white.

There's a pecking order with race and weight, and in real time, I find myself looking for allies and sympathizers. But I don't really understand why I couldn't turn this part of my brain off when my mom was dying in front of me. More from Ron when we return. Stay tuned. Welcome back to Snap Judgment. Today we're featuring Wait For It. Let's get right back into it with Ron. Typically,

Depending on what the decision is or what choice you're getting ready to make, I will hold my peace and wait until you come and ask me. Now, some stuff, you know, we can't say anything about. We want to say something. But what we've learned also is that, and I'm probably giving away all my secrets right now. Go for it. We're adults. We're all adults here. That's my mom talking with me on the very first episode of my very first podcast, Time Well Spent.

She's talking about her strategy for advising us when it came to making big decisions. We would say, well, you can do it this way or you can do that. But, you know, the choice is ultimately yours. And then we would say, well, you know what you're doing. We really meant, we really hoped you did know what you were doing. My mom was very intentional in her parenting style. She was always available when we needed her.

She could always tell when we were stressed out. My mother could see when I was upset to the tiniest degree. She could read at 100 yards if I wasn't well. She would sense it even if she hadn't seen me recently. She would call and ask, are you well? And typically those calls only happened when she had sensed correctly that I was not. Sometimes she would use our bodies as a barometer for the state of our minds.

I told Marilyn a story about the time mom had a good read on me at my college graduation. So when mom came to graduation and she saw me and I remember she mentioned this. She was like, are you good? Are you okay? And I remember I was not okay. I was stressed out from work, all that stuff. And I had put on a lot of weight at that moment. And she could tell my face was puffy, whatever, whatever.

But I remember mom noticing and being immediately identifying that the problem was not the weight, but the weight was indicative of something else. And she didn't moralize the weight. She was like, you are stressed. You will be OK, which is which is fine. You know what I mean? Amazing that way. Yeah. Yeah. Agreed. Yeah. Marilyn and I both had stories like this about mom where she looked at our physical state and identified something else was going on.

Ironically, it was also at Maryland's college graduation. When I graduated, my hair was crazy. I let my friends perm my hair. It looked all wild. And she saw me and you guys were there. And I really was happy to see you. But I think there was a bit of manic craziness behind my hair. Yeah, you were definitely crazed. I remember. And it was stress. It was stress. And mom knew it right away. And mom had a good way of getting...

You know, we're not sainthooding mom. She was definitely human, but she was good about that, about finding that it wasn't a moral issue. I know weight isn't a moral issue. I know it isn't. I also know that a person's body isn't always directly related to the trauma or that how anyone looks should be automatically assumed to be symptomatic of anything else. Sometimes my mom noticed my weight in a way that I hate it.

She used to rub my stomach when I saw her and say, ooh, boy, what you been eating? She would always say it while smiling and laughing, that gentle teasing. I knew she didn't mean no harm, but it always made me feel self-conscious, and I wished I could shrink myself. Sometimes with all the negative feedback I get from the world about being fat, my mother rubbing my stomach and reminding me I'm fat didn't feel like love. It felt like ridicule. But I know that my mom loved me.

Mom just loved you. She just loved us. It didn't matter. She just loved us. And that was, that was good. You knew that we knew that she loved us. We didn't have to question it. We knew it. I fundamentally know that this is true. When my mom got sick, sometimes I would sit next to the bed and hold her hand. I would kiss her head and rub her legs and feet.

Towards the end, my mom would go in and out of delirium. Sometimes she'd be with us, and sometimes she wasn't. I feel like it was hard at the end. It seemed like she was just going through so much that we weren't a part of. We were there for her, so whenever she had lucid moments and was able to recognize us, we were there, and I think she was glad to see us. But it was just hard, and I wish that it wasn't so hard for her. I know it was hard for her.

It was hard to watch her suffer. Sometimes I would stand next to the bed and cry quietly. Sometimes I wouldn't be crying, but I'd be visibly upset. I couldn't hide it. I just wanted her to be healed. When she saw that I was upset, sometimes she would reach out and rub my stomach. She was dying, but she was still being my mom. She wanted me to be okay. I knew it wasn't to make me feel bad about being fat,

I knew it was because she loved me and she wanted me to feel better. Those belly rubs on her deathbed unraveled my feelings of self-consciousness. I no longer felt like I needed to shrink myself. I didn't feel ridiculed. I felt loved. And I wish I could say I'm now liberated. I wish I could say that epiphany rang deep into my soul and changed the way that I view myself and the way others view me. But it didn't.

I am still thinking about being fat. I'm still noticing the weight. My mother is gone and I'm left here with my sorrow. We're kind of proud of you now. You've come a long way and we really appreciate both of you. We see where we have grown and we've also see where you have grown as well. We've seen where we have grown proud of you. Yes. Thank you. All right. All right, Marilyn. So we have to do the music.

Wait for it is a production of Oh, it's big Ron studios and is a proud member of Radiotopia from PRX, a network of independent creator owned listener supported podcasts. Discover audio with vision at Radiotopia. FM. This episode was produced and written by me, Ronald Young Jr. Our story editor is Sarah Dealey.

Sound design and mixing from the Reverend John Delore of Starlight Diner. Show art by Heather Wilder. Episode art by Andy J. Pizza. Theme music from Jay Redd with additional music from Mass Potential, The Artist DT, and the mysterious Breakmaster Cylinder.

Special thanks to my sister, Marilyn Denise Young, my father, Ronald Young Sr., our dear friend, Carolyn Perry, and of course, to my mother, the late and always great, forever loved, Peggy Lee Young.

You can follow me on Instagram, Threads, X, and TikTok at OhIt'sBigRon. That's at O-H-I-T-S-B-I-G-R-O-N. You can find out more about this show and other Oh It's Big Ron Studio shows by following us on Instagram at Oh It's Big Ron Studios. If you have a story about weight you'd like to share with us, shoot us an email at weight at OhIt'sBigRon.com. That's W-E-I-G-H-T at OhIt'sBigRon.com.

Wait for it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Ronald Young Jr. And big love to you and your entire family for sharing this with Snap. The entirety of Wait For It Season 2 is now available everywhere you get your podcasts, including episodes about air travel and the origin of the acronym BBW. You can follow Ronald on IG, on Threads, and Blue Sky at OhIt'sBigRon.com.

You can hear more from Ron talking about television and film on his podcast, Leaving the Theater and Pop Culture Debate Club, Fluminada and the BBC. Now, after the break, an entirely different body obsession. When Snap Judgment continues, stay tuned.

Welcome back to Stamp Judgment. For our next story, we'll go to Stamp's resident youngin and adultish podcast host, Nigel Turner, to tell us a story about how he discovered his own truth. Just a heads up, Nigel's truth involves a little bit of Nigel's adult language, Nodge. Nodge.

My auntie Tanya always says that whenever she pulls up at the house, she can count on seeing little me out on the front lawn, naked and watering the grass. There's my naked baby, is what she yells out to me to this day. Sometimes even in our place of worship. But when I was 12, I don't know, I kind of stopped with the whole free body stuff.

One day, I'm taking off my shirt to hop in the shower when I notice a small lump behind my left nipple. This lump most definitely wasn't there yesterday. So, I use my index and thumb and give it a quick assessment. Underneath my skin, I feel something the size of one of those Captain Crunch Crunch Berries and it's as hard as a rock. I give it a quick squeeze and I immediately burst out into tears.

It's cancer! I tell my mom, who immediately takes me to the doctor, who says, well, for starters, take a sigh of relief. It's not cancer. Well, what is it? My mom says. I'm still holding my breath. It's a condition called gynecomastia. Gynecomastia? It's actually pretty common. 70% of boys develop extra breast tissue when they're going through puberty. What? And so, it might look like they have the beginnings of female breasts. Female what?

Oh, my mom says. But I'm like, what? Why is everyone being so calm about this? Don't worry, son. It should go away by the time you're about 22. 22? I'm going to be old and married with kids by 22.

What the doc doesn't mention is that the lump will also duplicate itself behind my right nipple and that the lumps are going to get bigger and more noticeable like the size of golf balls, which will stand out, especially if you're a skinny kid like I am. So I begin wearing baggier shirts, even though tight tees are in. And not only that, I only wear shirts with huge logos on the front so you can't see the shape of my chest. But by the time that I started talking to girls, I take it to a new level.

Every time, before I leave my house, I tear a long silver strip of duct tape and wrap it around my entire chest and back like a sports bra. Still, I always feel like people just know. I confide in my dad and my older brother. They're actually concerned at first. But once they hear that it'll eventually go away, the condition becomes a huge running joke. Come on, run faster, man.

At first, I laughed with them because honestly, it was a hilarious nickname, no lie. But after a while, it gets old. It becomes painful and it tears my self-confidence to pieces. The only way I get through it is by repeating to myself over and over, this is temporary, only until I'm 22.

Even with the duct tape, I begin to hunch my back and try to hide my chest in public or whenever family or friends come over. But still, my dad calls me over. "Hey, Nige, come downstairs. Your uncle is here. Say hi." "Hi, uncle." "All right, now take your shirt off and show him." I feel like a circus freak. The amazing man. Only until I'm 22. Now forget that. I gotta do something.

First, over many weeks and months, I try to massage the lumps in the smaller pieces, but that doesn't work. Then I start working out six days a week, two hours of cardio in the morning and weights at night. I follow the strictest diet plan of chicken and fish and brown rice and whatever vegetable of the day, hoping that my chest would fill out and no one would notice. Eventually, I'm in the best shape of my life and the lumps are actually a little less noticeable than they used to be.

But I still hate my body. So as a last resort, I go to my dad's toolbox. I take out the heavy-duty pliers, and I carefully position the jaw around the hard tissue. Three, two, one. Then I squeeze the pliers as hard as I can. I immediately hit the floor crying. Once I wipe my tears, I check my chest. The lumps are still intact.

I give up. This is how it's going to be until I'm 22, I guess. So I get comfortable never going swimming anymore, even though I love to swim. I become that cool kid at all the pool parties who just shows up with his best fit, like I'm too good to be splashing around in the pool. Even in suits, I would just never take my jacket off, no matter how hot it would be. I build a whole persona around hiding my body, and it works.

In high school, I'm on the basketball team. So when I have to change into my uniform, I rush to the locker room early and change in the stall. Once, I hear my teammates making fun of another player who also has, well, you know what they call it. I'm surprised to learn one of my friends around my age has gynecomastia. He's never mentioned it to me, and I've never, you know, done a close chest examination.

I only find out because I hear some of my friends gossiping about his man boobs. Apparently, one hot day, they all hung out and he took his shirt off and they all just see it. Just like that. It was never a thing though. He continued to take his shirt off despite jokes or snickering. I really want to be like him, but I can't. Girlfriends is where it gets real tricky. Before I can even get close to a girl, I know I have to admit my darkest secret.

So I always do this over the phone and just be honest. And surprisingly, that conversation always goes pretty well. Turns out they don't really care or that's what I want to believe. In my mind, I wonder if they don't think it's a big deal because I usually lead with my humor and personality before I reveal my secret. But I don't know. Everyone has something, right? But behind closed doors, I start to fantasize about the future.

You know, once I turn 22 and I become an adult, the lumps will just pack their bags and go. Then I could post a picture with my wife on the beach on our honeymoon. I could swim at pool parties. What if on a daily jog around my block, I can just take my shirt off like I see all my friends do without even a second thought when it gets too hot. I don't celebrate birthdays, but I'm excited about turning 22.

But when the day comes, when I turn the age I had been waiting and praying for to finally feel comfortable in my own skin, the age where I finally am supposed to start loving myself, the lumps are still there. There is one more option. It's something I never thought I would do. It's expensive and it's problematic. I've been working part-time saving all my money for a Jeep Wrangler, but I won't be able to get that Jeep if I do this.

Plastic surgery. I always watched that show Botched with my dad about plastic surgery gone wrong. Plastic surgery always seemed like it was for rich people, rich white people, really. Well, really rich white women. It's something that felt taboo, but I really want my body to look like what I think a man's body is supposed to look like. Like what I see on TV and movies, like what everybody else looks like. I want that so much.

So I took my $10,000 that I had saved for the first time in my whole life and instead of getting my dream Jeep Wrangler, I drive an hour to the best plastic surgeon in Northern California. The waiting room is full of middle-aged women and me. I'm scribbling down questions to ask my doctor before he puts me under, basically wanting to make sure that I don't die in here. Honestly, I'm pretty scared. Why didn't I just buy that Jeep? No,

Invest in yourself, Nigel. Invest in yourself. After surgery, I wear a compression recovery vest for a couple of weeks. Then, finally, the day that I've been waiting for, I nervously walk to the bathroom and lock the door. I take off my vest and peel off the bandages around my chest. And then I finally take a look. I feel amazing.

I finally love my body. I finally love myself. And I don't know how to really describe it, but I kind of finally feel whole. I start working out again after I heal, looking at myself every day in the mirror, flexing, taking shirtless videos and putting them on Snapchat for the first time in my life. But then I'm looking at a picture of myself, my happy self, and a new kind of self-hate starts to creep in.

Why am I acting like this is some kind of accomplishment? I'm smart. I'm not a follower, but I was willing to spend $10,000 to change my body so that I would make more sense to myself when I look in the mirror. That blows my mind to this day. I get ready to go to a pool party at a friend's house. I'm going to take off my shirt and jump in in front of everybody. I hop into my car, 2006 Honda Accord, and roll out, windows down.

And the check engine light comes on again. Sometimes I still wish I could have just got that Jeep. Thank you, Nige, for sharing your story with the Snap family. This piece was brought to you by Adultish. It's a culture advice and storytelling show created by YR Media and Snap Judgment alumnus Davey Kim. It's hosted by 20-something know-it-alls Nige Turner and Merc Nguyen.

And they recently dropped their fourth season with their friends at Radiotopia by PRX. So be sure to subscribe to Adultish and show them some love. The music for this story was composed by Oluwafemi and Davey Kim. Oh, you made it.

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