THINspiration June 2000 © 2000 Scott "Q" Marcus, THINspirational Speaker
	This is a copy of the speech Scott delivered at the Region I Toastmasters Contest in June in Reno, NV. He competed against BC, WA, NV, WY, MT, and OR.

Come on, admit it. There isn't one of us who won't take the opportunity to speak in front of a crowd. I'll never leap from a bridge, bungie cord attached to my feet. But I'll take any chance to walk the high wire of large crowds with the danger of forgetting my words. A full lobby at a doctor's office is a nice place to practice keynote speaking. Nine people stuck at a bus stop? To me, it's a small Toastmasters club, waiting for a speech. A crowded elevator is really a captive audience. Seven floors are just enough time to squeeze out a table topic and still reach the green light. As the doors slide shut, I turn the "wrong way" and face the crowd, check my stopwatch and begin my speech, "Mister Elevator operator, fellow riders, and guests…" However, "Will Speak for Food" carries additional significance. I am a Weight Watchers leader and THINspirational speaker, helping people develop a thin, healthy, positive, lifestyle through keynote speeches, seminars, and Weight Watchers meetings. Entering a room as a Weight Watchers leader is like being a minister at a party. When you're a minister, everyone stops telling jokes. When I enter, everyone stops eating, trying to hide the crumbs on their faces like some illegal contraband. They start making confessions, "Forgive me Scott, for I have had nachos…" At a recent speech, I was in the breakfast line, a long table with sugar-covered, crème-filled pastries. The woman in front of me noticed who I was while constructing a skyscraper of eclairs on her plate and eating still others from the table. Embarrassed and grasping for an excuse, she removed a half eaten pastry from her mouth, explaining (with mouth full), "I was just tasting it," and replaced it on the table - trying to disguise the chew marks as some sort of "donutual flaw." Vanishing quickly into the crowd, a cloud of powdered sugar remained where she once stood, the only proof of her existence. (For the record, I am not a "food cop." I won't watch you at dinner; you don't watch me.) As a 213-pound child, being fat consumed me (no pun intended). I wouldn't go in a pool without a shirt because I was teased for looking like a girl. I hated PE - and the mocking of teenage boys while showering afterwards was mortifying. I had a closet full of corduroys with the fabric between my thighs scraped clear from my too-heavy legs always rubbing against each other as I walked. Shopping in the "special boys" section for "husky" clothes amplified the pain.	Children taunted me from my earliest days. Doctors scolded me. As I matured, women ignored me. By my 39th birthday, I had isolated myself in a bastille of humiliation and self-degradation, cresting 250 pounds with a 44" belly and constant backaches. I ignored my marital and financial problems by eating away the feelings of frustration, worsening the cycle. I cursed the world. I blamed God for making me fat. I despised me. Perched on the windowsill of destitution with one foot leading to jump, the other resting on a banana peel, was where the healing began. I had pummeled my spirit into silence and locked it in dark closets, yet it refused its jail cell. From the abyss, it called. "If guilt and shame cause change, you'd be thin already." Change is rarely accepted willingly, for with it we must let go of much of which comforts us. Yet, If we always do what we've always done, we'll always be where we always were. It was time to let go, however unwillingly comes that first step. With fear, sadness - and hope - I began my journey with Weight Watchers. (Actually, I started a week later, eating like a fool for the six days until the next meeting.) Unlike an alcoholic or drug addict who can lock the door on his habit, I cannot "just stop." Instead, I must remain constantly at the guard; knowing the siren call is forever lurking at the ready to seduce me if I let up. Yet, ironically, it is that same constant awareness that reminds me how fortunate I have become. Where others face despair, I know hope. I lost 70 pounds and have maintained it five years, eight months, and 25 days, this day being a record for the longest I've ever been thin. Each morning sets a new record, giving me further cause to celebrate. On a planet where billions cannot find food, I must decide which ones to resist. My "problem" is testament to my abundance.	By admitting and sharing my experience, I have met countless others who have given me stories of strength, faith and courage and remind me I was never alone. I see daily how I am surrounded by the love, respect and support of so many others on this quest. I have never felt as much a part of a community as I do now. Yin and Yang. From desperation, hopefulness. From a frightened thought, a new life. From turmoil, I was lead to peace. If I had been born thin, would I have the appreciation of life I now have? Would I look forward to each tomorrow as I now do? Would I be "speaking for food" today? I don't know; it really doesn't matter. But I do know that from that which I most hated has come my greatest joy. It is not what we are given that brings pleasure, but how we choose to react to our life which brings our moments their rich sweetness.

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