My weight has been an issue since I was 11. I didn't know it was an issue, until my older sister came into my room and told me so. She was 7 years older then I was, and had her own weight issues. She came into my room armed with a steno notebook, and a plan. She started talking about weighing myself and what I should eat, and what I needed to stop eating, but I didn't really hear her. Not so much. I was still stuck on, "I'm fat?" repeating over and over in my head. I was 12, 5'3" and about 135 lbs. After she weighed me and wrote it in the notebook and told me she was going to weigh me every week, I just freaked out. I literally, had no idea that something was wrong with me.
I remember staring at myself in the mirror. Taking my clothes off and examining my body. My stomach, my legs, my arms. I still didn't think there was something wrong with me. But I was hurt. I felt wrong. I felt strange, so exposed. Almost another layer of pain and shame to add to my life-story, instantly reducing me to an even lower level. Suddenly 'realizing' that I was 'duped!' I thought I was just fine, all that time, but in reality, had people been pointing, staring, saying 'what a fat-ass' behind my back? I was mortified. More shame to add to my plate. Literally.
This event changed me. I've never forgotten it. My mind would never, ever allow such a thing.
Looking back, I was not fat. Unfortunately, my sister thought that she was helping me, but in reality, she just gave me another reason to hate myself. Another reason to beat myself up, undeservedly so. And so, at 43 years old, I would really like to stop the beating, and make a real, lasting change.
There is so much more to my story. So much, much more.
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