There's been a lot on my mind lately, most of which spirals from thinking of a certain someone. The most recent thought that's been occupying my mind is my weight. You see, I'm a big girl; I've got quite a bit of thickness--more than I really should.

When my self-esteem begins to plummet, as it occasionally does, it's usually got something to do with my weight. In our society today, it is unacceptable to be overweight. Knowing this, I sometimes translate my weight as being something that makes me unacceptable. When such a thing occurs, I tend to think of myself as unworthy for any kind of attention or recognition I may receive.

Now, don't think that I'm continuously thinking that I'm undesirable. In reality, I hardly ever think of my weight. I know that I'm fat, but it's something that I'm use to. I've been a big girl all of my life. I've struggled with coming to terms with my physical appearance--and it hasn't been easy.

Between the ages of 11 and 14, I gained the most weight, which I now carry around with me. I began to binge eat whenever I was 11. I didn't know that what I was doing was called bingeing; I only knew that it wasn't good, but that I couldn't stop. I found comfort in food. I also found a lot of pain and hatred in food.

Emotionally, I began to feel the depression that would soon enough take over my life. I could physically feel my soul tearing apart from the pain that I kept inside of myself. I couldn't find any relief for the pain. I'm not even sure what made food such a comfort for me, but it was.

Things only got worse after my jaw went haywire. I was barely able to open my jaw; if I remember correctly, I could only open it 10 cm. Soft foods were the only things that I could bare to eat. Mashed potatoes and ice cream (among other things) were the foods that filled my life for the 6 months, or so, that it took the doctors to find a combination of medications that would reduce the pain enough so that I could live as normal of a life as possible. I gained so much weight from being inactive. It was a bit hard to get out and do anything when I was high from popping Vicodine all day.

By the time I was 14 years old, I weighted about as much as I do now. I hated the way that I looked. Getting dressed in the mornings for school was awful, because I hated the way my clothes looked on me. No matter what, I always looked like shit. In reality, I probably didn't look as bad as I thought. My clothes have always looked pretty decent, and I'm fanatic about matching. Looking "Put Together" is always my goal when deciding what to wear, and I usually accomplish this goal.

To tell you the truth, I'm not sure when I finally began to accept myself as I am. As I got older, my priorities changed, I guess. I still have those days when I look in the mirror and all I can think of is "God, you look hideous!" Luckily, I don't have those kinds of days as often as I use to. I'm use to my physical appearance, and it doesn't bother me like it use to.

There is an exception, though. The exception comes from thinking that my weight will keep the affections of another person from making their way to me. If that made sense. Basically, I truly believe that no matter how much someone thinks they like me, they'll be turned off from my physical appearance.

Like I said, being fat in this society is a major no-no.



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