in my head, i’ve always been fat.
at 17 years old and 118 lbs, i was fat. or at the very least, i wasn’t thin enough.
there was a brief fleeting moment in college – around 19 and 120 lbs – that i felt good in a bikini. or good enough to wear it in public but not good enough to position myself next to the thinnest girl in pictures. always need the slightly bigger buffer.
now i look back at those pictures and think holy crap – i was the thinnest girl!
i think the fact that i can recount my weight from 6th grade (101 lbs) to 9th grade (111 lbs) to college (smallest 120 lbs; biggest 138 lbs) really says a lot. there are very, very few pictures that i remember looking at and thinking “yes – i look good.”
instead, i can still remember every. single. critique. i gave myself – the tiny roll above my jeans which was mostly sweater. the width of my arm. my less-than-ripped thighs. my complete lack of calves.
the benefit of getting fat is that you see yourself with new eyes. sometimes kinder eyes. sometimes harsher eyes. sometimes you’re completely blind. but you see yourself for what you truly were – even if you cant quite grasp what you’ve become or what you could be someday.
i’ve gained a steady amount of weight since college, but i really reached a tipping point over the last 18-24 months. for most of that time, i avoided cameras. there was really no need to document this time of my life. and i’ve noticed that few people ask to take my picture. even my mom chooses photos from 2-3 years ago for our annual family christmas card. i’m not offended; i appreciate that they understand.
now, at 28 and too many lbs to admit, i give myself a little more credit than i did in my best days. i can look at a photo and think “hey – i dont look half bad tonight.”
or if nothing else, i give my spanks two thumbs up for a job well done.