I wasn't a fat kid. I wasn't fat through highschool either. I was average but I thought I was fat. The patriarchal media got to me early. TV, magazines, billboards...society in general all told me that I was a fat chick if I didn't wear a size 4 or smaller. I believed it. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy and eventually, I did, indeed, grow to be fat. I guess that happened when I entered my 30s.

I became a massage therapist in 1996 and started my own practice. I don't know if it was having all that extra time on my hands or that I was stressed about my practice or what but it seems like I just ate and ate and ate. I binged a lot. I'd eat 4 or more donuts every day. I'd eat cake 3 or more times a day. Lots and lots of pasta too. I just plain ate alot and knew I was putting on weight but I didn't care. I tipped the scale at 195 before I finally did something about it. I was 34. I joined Weight Watchers and lost 30 pounds. When I hit 165 I felt really good. I felt like I was in shape (I'd been walking and running on my treadmill). My clothes fit great and I'd started dating again.

I stayed at 165 (sometimes going down to 160) for the next 5 years. Then I met someone special. And she was so special that I decided to move from Atlanta, GA to be with her in Cincinnati, OH. I guess it was being in love and feeling like I was celebrating...but maybe it was also the stress of quitting my job (at this point I was teaching 8th grade English in an urban school in Atlanta) and moving to a brand new place...and having to find a new job when it just seemed impossible (it took 4 months!!!). I like to cook and I had all this time on my hands (again)...so I ended up gaining about 15-20 pounds. Ack! I was in love but beginning to feel bad because I don't like feeling fat and sluggish.