I fought back tears every time I went to the doctor and watched the scale creep past 350 into the 370’s. After that I closed my eyes when they weighed me. One time I ventured a peek and saw 382 on the scale. I was mortified and wondered if I would be dead by 35. In fact, I was sure I would be dead by 35.
A year ago, my friend and I met over dinner to catch up. She told me about the man she had been dating for several months. As with all things Lizzie* it was a hilarious story that had that makings of a good rom-com movie. “Do you think he’s the one?” I asked. She shruggedContinue reading “This is me”
A few weeks ago, I wrote one of the most real and blog posts of my entire life. It’s about my lifelong struggle to define myself despite being “fat.” It’s about how I see myself and expect that everyone else sees and judges me through the lens of “fat.” Most of all, it’s about howContinue reading “Through the fat lens”
My mantra up until yesterday (when I first realized I had this mantra) was “I can’t.”