Wednesday, May. 23, 2007 - 10:40 a.m.

I don't remember if I've ever mentioned this event in this diary before but, among other things, it's on my mind right now. My mind is overcrowded so something's gotta come out and this is it.

At the age of 9, this wack-ass nigga (WAN) tried to molest me.

I was in a play and he was working backstage, cleaning up and making sure things were in order. I believe he was 18 at the time.

I was just getting deep into my greedy stage. There was a scene in the show where the actors had a ham sandwich. After that scene was over, I would always get that sandwich. WAN knew that.

One night, he called me into one of the dressing rooms so I could come get the sandwich. We were sitting there and we started to play around. At one point, I noticed that WAN's hand was finding it's way up my dress and up my inner thigh. At first, I was just totally shocked at what was about to happen. That shock only lasted for a second before instinct kicked in and I started to fight his ass.

Me fighting back surprised him. He tried to grab my arms and keep me quiet but I slipped one arm free and my fist came down hard on his damn nose. The pain of that hit caused him to release me.

I ran from the room in a panic, trying to be quiet as I cried because I knew the play was going on. The theatre was small and I knew any noise from backstage would definitely be disruptive. I ran to find my mother, who was also helping out backstage. She took me into the other dressing room to calm me down and find out what happened.

In the meantime WAN, knowing I was about to tell, came over to the dressing room I was in with my mother, trying to explain away what he tried to do by saying he and I were just playing around.

My scene was coming up so everybody's concern in the moment was not "fixing" anything, but instead getting me ready for my scene - 'cause more important than anything was making sure the show went smoothly. I composed myself like the 9-year-old professional that I was, went out there and did my scene, then quietly cried as the lights faded to black.

At the end of the night, I believe just to appease me, my mom got word to the theatre ladies and they told me they would handle him. Of course, the next night, he was back at work under strict instructions not to speak to me. I guess it would have been too much to get rid of him and get somebody else in with such short notice. I guess nobody thought the incident was that serious since his attempt wasn't successful.

I guess nobody realized that as soon as I realized that grown man was trying to touch me inappropriately, 17 years of future damage had already been done.

Yeah, I'm sick of struggling with my food and weight issues but it's hard for me to be too tough on myself as far as not eating well and losing weight because I understand my reasons for eating (and eating as much as I do) and why I am not suicidal about the way that I look, even though I am not happy about it.

When I went to see that strange-o Chiro, we easily slipped into a discussion about events that triggered the weight gain in each of our lives. He seemed so in control of his emotions now. It was physically obvious that he had overcome his food issues. In combination with our conversation, this would lead me to believe that he has overcome his issues with the event that happened in his life. I just found myself so eager to want to talk about what happened to me with someone who could help me work through my residual issues...

I want a therapist. STAT.

Additionally, there may be issues that I will need to deal with in the near future. I'm getting nervous that everything together may get to be too much for me to handle.

I'm going to look into my company's Employee Assistance Program tomorrow so I can sign up for some therapy sessions.

Oh yeah, almost forgot - I probably won't fit into my bridesmaid dress.

Oh well.

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