The second word I ever said was “chocolate”.

I was the chubby kid. My second word was chocolate. I’m not saying that to add emphasis to my story, I’m saying it because it’s fact.

I was probably “normal” until about 7-8 when I was old enough to realize that my parents would cave and give me whatever I wanted to eat in order to prevent a tantrum. I look back at pictures of my formative years and it’s usually my parents (who were relatively thin), me and my balloon sized stomach. I by no means am blaming my parents for my weight. I know unequivocally that they did and DO love me unconditionally. In fact I think they loved me so much that they didn’t even “see” my size.

Let’s add puberty and acne and grades 5-9 (US school system) and it is a recipe for disaster. You could offer me the amount of the national debt IN CASH and I still wouldn’t go back to those school years. I didn’t help matters; for example I remember having one single pair of jeans that fit and I probably wore them almost every day. It’s not that my parents wouldn’t buy me clothes, it’s just that I was A) too embarrassed to admit my issue and B) in hindsight I don’t think I cared about my appearance as much as I probably should have. I am fortunate in that my mental health has always been stable at that stage and my parents instilled a confidence in me that I will be forever grateful for.

Besides one bought with a very unhealthy, quick weight loss (which I gained back plus some) I was overweight until my late 20s. This might sound drastic but I was so tired of having the excess weight that I quit dairy, gluten and sugar cold turkey. Within a year I was 5’2” and 113 lbs. I did work out occasionally but for myself, it’s consisted almost entirely on a dietary change.

Besides +/- 5 pounds vanity pounds I have remained this weight for roughly 7 years now (37F) and it’s not easy. Food has had such an influence on my life that sometimes I will go as far as declining social outings because I know the event will be based around food and drinking and I only allow myself two cheat days a week. I’ve even added carb counting to my list of no-no’s.

To bring this full circle, I’m not telling this story to brag. I am telling it because after A LOT of self inflection I realize that I am so grateful for those years. Do I want to relive them? Absolutely not but I’ll go as far as to say that I wouldn’t be the person I am without them. Struggling with weight has allowed me to be sympathetic and less superficial. The majority of my friends are overweight and, much like my parents, I don’t “see” it. I pray that nobody ever thinks I am judging them.

I think the reason why I am bringing this up is because I own a clothing boutique and a young girl and her mother came in. This young lady reminded me of myself at that age. She found a shirt that fit her and she loved it. After paying her mom told me that her daughter rarely finds something that fits that she is genuinely excited about and that really hit home. I had to choke back tears because I’ve been there...

Thanks for anyone who actually read this 😊

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