This is going to be a bit of a word dump… please excuse my ramblings.
It’s an odd thing being significantly overweight when you have a personality like mine. I’ve never been one that’s quiet, one to conform, or one to keep my mouth shut when I have an opinion. It was adorable when I was younger (so I’m told).
When I was barely talking, I knew the names of the Beatles, precious gems (my dad was a jeweler), who the “queen of soul” was (Aretha Franklin) and could bop along with any song on the radio. I knew what I wanted, and being the teeny tiny kid I was, it was cute.
In middle school, my opinionated and loud ways got me bullied. I was annoying, laughed too loud, and was always that ONE kid that had a question after everyone else had started working. I never had to work too hard to get noticed by teachers, but I wanted people my own age to notice me.
Fast forward to high school. I had friends that liked me for me and all my weirdness (Monty Python anyone?) and we spent hours upon hours watching crazy movies, eating frosting straight out of the can, and being ridiculous together. I finally had friends and needed to learn to be comfortable with myself. That wasn’t easy for me, so I started to eat… far too much.
Fast forward to college and post-college. I continued finding comfort/amusement in cooking and eating.
Yadda Yadda Yadda, here I am.
Now here’s where things get different, and I really noticed them today. I tend to forget my own size. I’m a little bit like a large-breed puppy that has no idea how big I am. Now, I do know enough to wear clothes that cover me up and loos mostly decent on most days. But, when I’m out in public, I tend to forget that I’m, as a little kid once said, “that fat lady.”
It’s even weirder now, since I’m feeling so very much better than I have in years. I forget that while I can tell I’ve lost a bit of weight, no one else can. I’m still “that fat lady”. I was at Target today, and got ran into three times, cut off twice, and someone literally stood in the doorway, blocking my way, and didn’t move even when I said “excuse me”. I’m still the invisible chubby girl.
But that will change, because I’m not giving up on this. Someday, sooner than later, I’ll just be “That girl with the great smile”, or “that smart girl”, or heck, even “the Spanish teacher”.
My friend Kristina once put it best: I’m a skinny girl stuck inside a way-too-padded body. And I’m finally doing something about it.