My mom used to tell me I had a “healthy” appetite if I finished my plate. I remember my mother telling people that I could eat a large pizza by myself, not many of my friends had pizza parties to which I was invited. I don’t say this to blame my weight on my mother. I’d have to be living under a rock if I didn’t know I was doing it to myself. The food pyramid was part of my grade school education. Weight loss and exercise solutions are sold everywhere you look. I have a stack of “healthy eating” cookbooks collecting dust on my bookshelf. The blame for my weight lies at my own feet.
In my high school health class, the teacher decided we would do a bodyweight analysis. There was a small charge (less than five dollars) and it was supposed to be voluntary. Even in high school, I didn’t need a machine to tell me what I already knew. Keeping my head down, I avoided all eye contact as one by one my classmates walked to the back of the class. I breathed a sigh of relief when the last of them returned to their seat. Then, I heard my name being called back to the teacher’s desk. I tried to bow out gracefully but he waived me over. I even told him in front of my class that I didn’t have the fee. Again, he ignored my words telling me it was fine. By this point, the entire class was staring at me. Walking back to his desk I prayed that he would be discrete with the results. Oh, unanswered prayers. The dreaded word that none of my other classmates heard spilled out of his lips. Obese.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it and I’d heard it more than I’d care to think about since. Still, the pain that comes with that word is real. For some that pain drives them to the gym, makes them break out those cookbooks, and clean out hundreds of dollars worth of unhealthy food from their cupboards. For me, that package of cookies had never let me down and had never called me obese. I was driven to the store and the chocolate bar that I had to eat in record time.
I came to terms with the fact that I would never be a model. I found an amazing man who loves my size. More importantly, I decided that I didn’t have to be a size eight to fit into this world. That’s not to say that I am not on what most people would call a “weight-loss journey”. I go to the gym. I try to make healthy food choices but it’s not because of what the scale says. I want to go on a hike with my family. I want them to know I can do the activities they want to do. I am also not going to deny myself the small joys a cookie can bring. I am on a quality-of-life journey.