“I am not my weight”

There is no doubt in my mind that I see life through a special lens. I think lots of people do. That’s fine, I guess. Until your special lens is the one that only seems to highlight your flaws.

You see, when I walk into a room, no matter what room it is or who is there, in my mind, I am the heaviest person there. Always.

It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I could be a wall flower in the back corner. I could have snuck in late. Or I could be the speaker with all eyes on me. It really doesn’t matter. In my mind, I am always the heaviest person in the room. Even when I’m not.

And that has been my love-hate relationship with, well, everything.

It didn’t matter how well I did in college, on the pitch, in social groups. I was still always the heavy girl. And that’s all I’d ever be.

College was pretty. College was my chance to start anew. I mean, I was going to one of- if not the- prettiest colleges in the country. But no amount of pretty mattered for the ugly I felt inside.

That fat that hung from my stomach, my hips, my waist, my thighs, my arms, my chin, from every single part of my body- that fat made me ugly. And it didn’t matter if anyone else saw it because I did. It was all I saw. It is all I see. All the time.

No amount of pretty around me- no amount of success, of achievements, of wins- made the ugly go away.

So the pretty became a part of me too. But it really just made me more ugly. Because all the pretty- pretty friends, in a pretty place, with pretty accomplishments- that surrounded me made me uglier my comparison.

I am not pretty. I am not ugly. I was pretty ugly.

Today, I am not pretty ugly. I am happy. And that’s all that matters.