I’ve been overweight for as long as I can remember. I come from a large Italian family where food is love, and I always wanted as much as I could consume of both.
As far as growing up a fat kid, I didn’t have it particularly bad. I wasn’t a social outcast, but I wasn’t exactly invited to the cool kids’ high school parties either. I had friends, but never boyfriends. There weren’t actually many instances that I remember being teased or bullied about my weight, though there are some moments where I was uncomfortable. I quit dance classes at age 7 because I didn’t want to wear leotards with the skinny girls. I pushed a mean boy down when he called me fat once (I think that was 5th grade). I heard a lot of “you have a pretty face” and “you would be pretty if you lost weight.” When my dear (and incredibly skinny) friend and I were partnered to do lifts during a show choir routine, and then he broke his arm before the performance (UNRELATED, thankyouverymuch!).
The year I graduated high school, I weighed 273 pounds. I moved to Boston for school, started having to walk most places, and lost about 25 pounds by college graduation. That summer, I decided to start Weight Watchers, and over the next three years, I lost about 70 pounds, though never quite losing the last couple pounds that would mean my BMI was just “overweight” and not “obese.”
This is me at about 170 pounds, during my skinniest period. All that work started to reverse by 2010. I was unchallenged and unhappy at my job, my boyfriend and I had broken up, my best friend moved out and moved to Brooklyn, and I was depressed and trying meds to manage it. Food was the only thing I really enjoyed.
Fast forward to now, where I love writing and being my own boss, am surrounded by amazing and supportive people at work, and have great friends around me. This current body is the last vestige of the old me, and I’m ready to shed it for my true self.