My weight has gone up and down over the years.
I’ve lost it all and I’ve gained it all.
Then I’ve lost it all again and then I’ve gained it all again.
And through all that fluctuation, I’ve always been The Fat Girl.
I didn’t become one of the skinny girls even when I was skinny.
Because even when I physically lost the weight, I was still defined by others as “the fat girl who lost the weight”.
And when you go from skinny to gaining weight again, people meet you with that attitude of, “Well, what do you expect from someone who used to be fat? Of course she can’t keep it off!”
At one point, my weight became an openly discussed topic in my family.
And of course, none of those conversations were with me, they were all conducted right over my head.
“She’s getting awfully fat. You should feed her less candy,” said my grandmother to my mother, even as she gave me two boxes of chocolates for Christmas.
And I still get compared to a childhood friend, “You always were the chubby one!” — regardless of what my weight has been.
The hard thing about growing and changing as a person is that even when you shed your old skin, your old ways of defining things, you’re still fixed in the mind of other people as some past version of you.
Sometimes it’s cause enough to break off those relationships; there’s no point in trying to grow around people who just want to see you fail because they’re too afraid to take on their own challenges.
At other times, it’s just a mild inconvenience that you live with, accepting that no matter what you do, those people will label you as they please.
And in the end, it’s all wind and you’re a palm that bends with the wind, but does not break.
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