I Was An Overweight Teenage Vampire

My friends and I’d just seen the latest Twilight movie and were standing outside the theater laughing at how wrong Hollywood had gotten it all.  We should know, we’re real vampires. But looking around I couldn’t help thinking any one of us could have been in that movie. Anyone, that is, except for me.

Most of my friends were tall,  slender and beautiful. But I was 5’6″ 240 lbs. of pure female vampire blubber –  most of it in my eternally damned hips and thighs.

For my friends it was easy. One quick nip at a victim’s neck and a slight touch of the pinky to the corners of their mouth to clean up any signs of the life-giving serum was all it took. Then, with hardly a care, off  they went to party their undead souls the night away.

But me, I needed a lobster bib. I used to put so many puncture wounds in my victims I worried  if they drank water right away they’d spring leaks like a cartoon.  I was out of control.

It wasn’t long before my friends transformed into bats and flew away into the night. I, on the other hand, bounced off several taxis just struggling to get airborne.

I’d had enough. I had to do something. I had to change my life.

This is an account of my attempts.

Week 1 — I went to see a hypnotherapist. Bad mistake.  I’d forgotten vampires are far better hypnotists than any mere mortal.  A few minutes into therapy I realized he was frozen, completely under my control.  I panicked.

I tried to hide him in the bottom drawer of a large filing cabinet. But he’d gone under the spell in a sitting position and the drawer wouldn’t close because his ass was sticking out.

I finally managed to hook my foot under his chin and flip him up against the wall behind a potted plant.  I threw his suit jacket over his head figuring that would take care of it and started to leave.  Then I thought, “Oh what the hell.”

I pulled the jacket from his neck, had a quick snack and left.

Weeks 2-5 – I heard you can sometimes solve your own problems by reaching out to help others, so I became a volunteer at a local hospital assisting elderly patients.

By week’s end, however, I had fifty new victims — most of them in their 90s.  The age of their blood weakened me though.  I tried Geritol smoothies but nothing helped.

I actually fell asleep in the middle of one bite and woke later that evening in a hospital bed still atop the elderly man.  He was dead.  Doctor’s speculated cause of death anywhere from heart attack to drowning in someone else’s drool.

Soon many of the “Senior Suckers” (their self-proclaimed version of the Lost Boys) were finding their own victims in the hospital.  I spent most evenings pulling fanged dentures out of nurses necks (and a couple of rear ends — dirty old vampire men.)

My downfall started though when I overheard a doctor ask a nurse to retrieve something from the blood bank.

Good thing we were in a hospital. That nurse didn’t have a chance.  I’d found my Nirvana.  And luckily when she came out of her coma, the nurse could only claim she must have been hit by a runaway truck in the new Cardiac wing of the hospital.

Over the next few weeks I put on so much weight my pants actually split open while I was bending over a victim in the park.  He laughed so hard that I missed his neck and accidentally bit him on the nipple. He screamed, punched me in the nose and fled into the night.

I was eventually caught finishing off a pint of  ”O positive”  in the blood bank by some of the hospital staff.  I made some bad joke about how I could have had a V-8 but no one laughed except for one weird orderly who said something about how it took him a minute to get it.  But it was over.  I was asked to leave immediately.

I finished my snack and left.

Weeks 6-12 — These were my lost weeks.  My loneliest. Most of my friends quit speaking to me.

Even the nerds at school who’d been trying to help me regain flight as a bat (something I’d lost 30lbs ago) rejected me now.  Something about “You’re a bat, not a bee.”  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I put an application in at a local Deli but didn’t get the job. I think they suspected me of stealing straws and packs of raw ground beef as I left.  It’s gross but I was going to pay for them.  Really it’s a part of my life I’d  like to forget about now.

I even tried one last desperate attempt at a job in a local pet shop.  Another huge disaster.

Things were going great until I went to clean out the hamster cage. As I picked up one of the fluffy little creatures I wondered, “Hmmn?” I bit down.

A moment later I was fleeing the pet shop with my fangs piercing my own hand and a terrified hamster stuck in between biting my nose.

I’d hit rock bottom.

Week 13 — So you’d think this is where my story ends…oddly, it’s where it begins.

As I sat alone in Starbucks sipping a coffee I knew what I would do.  I would make the ultimate vampire sacrifice.  No more victims. I would simply wither away.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts. “Hi, anyone sitting here?”

I looked up and saw a tall, athletic young man. I recognized him, Bobby Parker, one of the school football players. Instantly, I was in love. After a while I even gave up plans to attack him later in the parking lot.

We chatted for hours and eventually took a walk in the park. Soon we kissed. Then Bobby had the crazy idea to stay up and watch the sunrise together at his house. I said yes. I couldn’t resist.

He’d made me forget all about being a vampire.  For the first time in my life I felt like a normal teenage girl.  That was, until the sun broke through.

Smoke began to pour out from every part of my body.

“Bobby, Bobby, do you smell that?”

Bobby tried to be polite and told me he was okay with girls farting.

“That’s not it, Bobby! It’s the sun! I’m burning! I’m a vampire! I need to get to a coffin.”

“Will my toolbox do?”

Bobby wanted desperately to help. He cleared everything out of the toolbox in the bed of his truck and told me to get in.  I didn’t think it’d work.  But it did.

Sadly, before he closed the lid, I burst into flames and caught his hair on fire. The last thing I saw was Bobby sticking his head into a bucket of water then running into a lamp post trying to get the bucket off.  I knew I was in love.

I burned for a while inside the tool box but the lack of oxygen finally put me out.  I drifted off to sleep.

That evening when I emerged I weighed only 127lbs.  The fire had burned most of the fat off my body. Bobby was okay, too. (They used the jaws of life to pull his head out of the bucket. )

My friends showed up after Bobby told them what had happened.

The other girls were so jealous.  They couldn’t stop commenting on how good I looked.  My skin was okay and the clothes burned off just enough to show off my sexy new body. Bobby said he could even get used to the smell of burning pork if it meant being close to me.

As we all walked away into the night I sensed something bothering Bobby.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I sort of miss the old you.”

One of my friends spun around and suggested we all go to a party across town. “There’ll be lots of mortals there. Wanna go?”

Bobby and I looked at each other for a moment.  I paused then smiled.

“Well maybe…just for a quick snack.”