down to size

For most of  my life, I have found myself at varying degrees of fatness. There was the cute, innocuous-enough baby-fat period that we all seem to go through-- the milk-fat, pudgy-cheeked, rolly-thighed infantile stage that invariably makes anyone with functioning fallopian tubes ovulate on the spot. There was the chubby girl period, where I remained soft as others grew lankily into their childhood bodies. But then came outright obesity-- an ugly word that turned what once seemed adorable into a clinical problem.

There have been leaner periods. I've pulled it together several times in my life, dropping sometimes as much as the 120 pounds that had separated my too-much body from normality. But my default body, much like my personality, has been big and soft. A white, fluffy marshmallow. Too much girl.

I had always cared that my body didn't fit the model for what a girl was supposed to look like. Often, I cared too much. But, ultimately, I've always had that stubborn streak that led me to defy what I knew to be in my best interest. Why should I let them make me feel like less for being... more? Why should I let anyone cut me down to size? I relied on the age-old adage: it's what's on the inside that counts. And I knew that my internal world was rich. I was smart. I was sweet. I was funny. Who cared what anyone else thought? The problem was... I did.

In December, I decided to make a change. It started with a friend and fellow EMT, who had recently begun to work on his own fitness by becoming nutritionally aware of different foods and their effects on his body. When we met, we were fast friends-- faster than I had imagined possible. We bonded over similar interests, sparkling conversation, and perhaps a deep need that I'd had in my life: his progress made me hunger for success of my own.

Almost four months later, I have lost 77 lbs, and I am feeling better than I have in years. The world has truly begun to open up to me. I am still not where I want to be, but every day, I find myself just a little bit further from the girl I was, and closer to the woman I am becoming. The difference is that the girl in me had always made it about pleasing others. The woman in me knows that this is a journey about me alone.