"Fatty McFatterson"

Fall 1996. 4th grade. That's the first time I remember feeling fat. Wearing my ever-so-trendy black stir-up leggings and oversized plaid flannel top, I checked out my reflection in my parents full length mirror. And there, for the first time, I saw those dreadful saddlebags. Those big, fat thighs wobbling in my leggings, peeking out from behind the lovely plaid-printed top. At that moment, I knew I was fat. Not only was I wearing an unflattering (but, I repeat...trendy!) outfit, my legs resembled my 4th grade teachers pear-shaped bottom half--not the straight, stick-like figure of many of my friends.

Spring 2001. 8th grade. The discovery of the dreaded cellulite. Ugghhhh. Sitting in my 8th grade math class, I look down to my thighs (most likely out of boredom) and see the resemblance of cottage-cheese on my otherwise smooth legs. I immediately knew this was "gross" by society's standards and as I covered the dimpled-spots, I vowed to never wear shorts as long as my legs still looked like some kinda of chunky yogurt dish.

Fall 2001. 9th grade. I am wearing a size 3/5. I was bigger than many of my friends, but if I had known what I was about to do to my body in the next 12 months, I surely would have appreciated that petite size. You see, as I entered freshman year of high school, I went from being a so-called "popular" girl to a "punk outsider". I choose to hang out with the more "alternative" students.. My parents, being the loving and responsible parents that they are, thought better than to let me hang out with this particular group of kids outside of school.

My lack of secure and healthy friendships gave into my internalizing many of my feelings. I became lonely and food became my new BFF. Not just any food though. Ohhhh nooooo, this was a home-made-cookie (and also ice cream) lust relationship. At least once a week I would turn on my music and whip up some wonderful, tasty, sweet cookie concoction in the kitchen. Now I know you're thinking--"that's not THAT bad"....oh wait, just wait....

Not only was I baking cookies at least once a week, I starved myself of many nutritious and healthy foods (uhh, veggies? huh? not for me thanks) along with often skipping breakfast (and usually lunch) and overeating at dinner along stuffing my face at dessert. This lifestyle caused me to go from my cute petite frame of a size 3/5 in the beginning of freshman year to a size 14 by the end of sophomore year. That's 6 sizes. SIX.

As you can imagine, having gained 6 sizes in the first two years of high school was traumatizing. Forget the fact that I had acne, fluffy eyebrows, and wore all black with studded belts-I had ballooned out.

So here I am. 26 years old. Still fighting with myself over my weight. Although I broke up with the weekly date-nights of cookie-making, I still find myself binging from time to time. And I *gulp* don't eat all my veggies. However, now I can say I truly love myself inside. And I'm working on loving the outside....