I cannot remember a time when someone didn’t say I was overweight. Growing up as an athlete who did gymnastics, judo, and softball I developed large quads by age 10, and there wasn’t a time when someone didn’t mention how large they were. I still have these powerful legs now. I grew up in a family of five, where I had two step-sisters who were tall, thin, and athletic in their own rights. I wasn’t tall. I wasn’t thin by the family’s standards. When someone wanted to hurt me they would call me fat. I still can’t stand to hear that word today. Fat. Nope, not my favorite.
I look back on pictures of me when I was told I was overweight – maybe I’m blind – but I don’t see it. I see a 12-year old kid who was a dancer and was just built differently. What do you think? I know this picture is straight out of the 80s, but well, that’s me and my step-sister Vicky. She is going to kill me when she sees it. Why do we inflict negative body images onto our youth? Why? Do we want our girls to grow up with low self-esteem and self-doubt? 
One thing I had going for me was that I was smart. Sometimes a smart ass, but mostly too smart for my own good. My self-esteem grew from my intellect, not my body image. I have struggled my whole life with a negative body image, which does, more than I like to admit, creep into my self-esteem. I recently moved and started coming across all sorts of pictures from my childhood through my 20s. I was astounded. I *always* thought I was a heavy girl who made up for it with a winning personality. But when I really looked at those pictures – I wasn’t obese – I was me. I might not have been as skinny as my sisters, but I was by no means, ready to be a contestant on The Biggest Loser.
Here is me in high school – Varsity softball my Freshman year, played soccer, and practiced Judo. And I was called fat. I wonder if we realize how hurtful and mean our words are to a growing psyche.
Here is another picture of me in my mid-20s. I remember taking this pic at Disneyland thinking I don’t want anyone to see this (thankfully there was no FB back then, ‘cuz I would have posted it right away). Looking back at it 10 years later, I see things very differently. I see that I was toned, but most importantly, happy. There was a light in my eyes that overshadowed the extra weight I carried in my arms. So what was more important – that I was 20 pounds overweight or that I was happy? 
I was recently asked if I could pinpoint exactly when I started to put on extra weight. After much thought, I can. It isn’t a pleasant story either. When I was 10, my 8-year-old cousin Vicky Lynne was abducted and killed in Tucson in 1984. Yes the bastard is on Death Row, and I am a big proponent of the death penalty even if I am a tree-hugging Liberal. But I digress. When she was abducted I was living with one of my aunts and I remember thinking I don’t want to be abducted too. So I started eating Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies and Star Crunch like they were going out of style to make myself undesirable. That was the first time I remember being an emotional eater.
I maintained a weight of 135 pounds throughout college and into my mid-20s. I was always told I should never be heavier than a 100 pounds. Women should never weigh more than a 100 pounds! Seriously? I can look back at that now and realize what complete bullshit that is, but then, I could not. I thought being 135 pounds was like being a whale. I’m not kidding.
The next time that I remember putting on extra pounds is when my mother died when I was 24. I was devastated. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t think. I lost myself in my grief. I moved to Los Angeles where I worked out a lot, because that is what you do in LA, but was still considered (by LA’s standards) to be overweight at 150 pounds. I moved back to Phoenix when I was 27 and this is where I put on 30 pounds in six months. I went from working out 4x a week to eating breakfast burritos before work and working 70+ hours a week.
I dated a man at that time for two years who I thought I was completely in love with, who told me one day he would marry me, unless of course someone better came along. WTF? He told me that he wanted to be with a woman who was more petite than I was. Since I am 5’2” I knew he didn’t mean petite as in height. The next man I was with felt like he came out of a storybook – our paths mirrored each other our whole lives but had never crossed. This relationship brought out the sheer worst traits in me and in him. We were like moths to a flame – we burned brightly, but in the end, we burned out. He ended up cheating on me with anything with two legs ~ this did not help my fragile self-esteem. The next man I dated I married.
One bad thing about my husband were his eating habits. I personally love all sorts of fruits and vegetables, and embrace different foods. He was a meat and potatoes man. I mean almost every meal had to have meat and potatoes in it. He hated vegetables and most fruits too. I tried to hide them in certain dishes, but it was next to impossible. Trying to find healthy eating options together was really quite difficult.
It has now been six weeks since my divorce and I can honestly look at myself and say that I am, officially, overweight. I am way too chicken shit to post my weight on the web, but sometimes, I just want to scream it from the rooftops to release that pain. I was told recently that you never want to say that you want to lose weight, because that implies that you want to find it again. I want to release this weight – I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need it to protect me. I will do just fine in life being who I was born to be ~ happy at 150 pounds with a great intellect, sunny smile, and a very caring heart.
I had met with @skinnyjeans who is also @noshtopia and has had a blog for years on trying to get back into your skinny jeans. I have never owned skinny jeans. I actually didn’t buy my first pair of jeans until six months ago because I had always thought my ass looked too big in them. Do you know I get more compliments when I am wearing those jeans? Yep, I wear them all the time now! 
I am tired of people defining me by my weight. I am tired of defining myself by my weight. I hope by writing this all out I can finally release this weight and move forward with my life. I eat pretty healthy and am in the gym 3x a week, but I still have not lost one freaking pound. Not one. But I try. I am going to blog about my journey in trying to rid my mind and body of this excess weight, I hope you will join me through this battle. This is me today ~ my goal is to shed 40-50 pounds.
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