“Oh, youre not fatyoure just big-boned!”
Its a phrase Ive heard my entire life from well-meaning friends, family, and strangers.
Today, Ive learned to appreciate my body for its shape.
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But it took me a long time to get where I am todayand it wasnt easy.
My heavier build helped me exceed in sports at an early age.
So, in a sense, I didnt hate my body entirely.
My love-hate relationship with my figure continued onward through junior high and high school.
I had to be big to help my team win.
To deal, Id drink, hitting up the bars Thursday through Sunday.
It wasnt the first time a stranger had call me fat, but something about this exchange was different.
I reached a breaking point.
It wasnt what he said or didit was how I felt in that moment.
Dehydrated from drinking too much alcohol.
Exhausted from constantly beinghungover.
Depressed and filled with self-loathing that made me never want to leave my apartment.
I had gotten to the point where I was partying and doing pretty much nothing else.
I lost weighta lot, and very quickly.
When I first started losing weight, my friends and family were really complimentary.
And truthfully, the compliments Id receive were addictive.
But my euphoria would simmer slightly in those instances where the compliments seemed slightly backhanded.
You look amazing, one acquaintance said one evening, after he had a fair amount of alcohol.
I mean, you looked cute before.
But now youre like, really hot.
Once I hit that 20-pound weight-loss mark, I plateaued hard.
I also started wearing a sport corset to work to cinch my waist.
I became moody and agitated after I’d eat and feel totally uncomfortable.
While my life mightve looked fine from the outside, I was living inside a hamster wheel.
I was still depressed, and was feeling the effects of it.
I felt weaker and more exhausted than ever.
That appreciation I once had for my physical prowess was gone.
I had no friends or family in New York, and was leaving behind my serious then-boyfriend.
I simply couldn’t waste any energy on worrying about how I looked.
Those monotonous workouts I had relied on before werent very good at taking my mind off my broken heart.
I was immediately hooked.
Whats more, I was actually good at it.
For the first time since I played soccer and excelled in P.E.
class back in grade school, my body finally felt like an asset again.
An agent of power.
And I began to realize that what my body looked like had absolutely nothing to do with that power.
I’m not losing weight, but I’ve never felt healthier and happier.
Do I still wince each time someone (with the best intentions) tells me Im big-boned or curvy?
