I hate to say it, but I... am... f...f....f...fat

I spent most of my youth worrying that I was fat.

I wasn't fat. I played sports, I was constantly outside riding my bike or playing kickball, I didn't really snack. It interrupted playtime to stop and snack.

I was 11 or 12 in this photo, I can't believe my
mom got me into a dress!

But what I did have were these freckled, chipmunk cheeks that were especially large when I smiled. I didn't wear "girlie" clothes and was a bit of a tomboy.  And finally, I was on the taller side of my class. All of those physical attributes combined with the fact that I was one of a handful of girls in the COUNTRY that played Little League baseball, opened me up to considerable teasing. Weight is a good weapon, obviously.

I went through grade school and middle school fairly unscathed. I had built up a steely resistance to personal attacks because I wanted to play ball, and I wanted to play with people who played as well as I did, and at the time, that was with the boys.

I also had a mom who was an outspoken feminist, worked tirelessly to keep the local library open and was the President of the League of Women Voters. So, while I got teased on one level, I was also was very well "connected" thanks to my mom. Every adult in the school system, library system or city hall knew me and my family.

But, then we moved.

Halfway through my freshman year in high school, we moved to Centerville, OH. We went from liberal east coast to conservative midwest.

It was total culture shock.

I went from knowing everyone, to knowing NO ONE. I had a NJ accent. I was a tomboy. I was utterly lost. But this whole chapter in my life, is a post of it's own. Needless to say, it was painful, joyful, enlightening, disheartening, loving, and miserable... and I made it through.

Then came college, and this is where the eating issues really found their home in my psyche. I had chose to go as far away from Centerville as I could, so that meant University of Denver was PERFECT for me.

I had also made a deal with myself that I was going to meet as many people as possible, and be outgoing, and have fun. My grades reflected my success in that endeavor, at least for the first two years.

Somewhere around my Sophomore year, at our weekly trips to El Torito for Happy Hour, I learned about bulimia. Not because I was worried about my weight (though I was on some level), it was about continuing to drink, and getting rid of the food I'd been putting in my stomach.

Just after college, you can tell by the acid-wash pants
Doug and I are wearing

It started at happy hour, then I found that I felt better afterward... lighter... or something, like a rush. I started doing it after ANYthing I ate, a candy bar, a sandwich or any food that went in my mouth. I lost alot of weight. People noticed and commented how good I looked. I even started working out as well.

Then I got caught by a guy I was dating. I had to face up to what I was doing. Eating disorders were a "new" psychological condition back then, and  only a few clinics existed to treat it. I went to one at the University of Cincinnati that was run by the Wooley's. Two pioneering doctors in the field of eating disorders.

I got better.

Still, in all of this, when I look at pictures, I still was NOT fat. Round? Sure! Full figured? Yes. Fat? No.


To be continued... this is getting WAY long! I'm splitting it up. NEXT, after college and up to now... from simply FEELING fat to actually BEING fat.

Hi Mom, It's Me, Annie...

This is a reprint of a letter to my mom in 2010. It will be 12 years, this coming Friday (4/11) when my mom left this world. I thought it would be nice to share my letter from Sept. 2010. I have the occasional dream with her, where we have Starbucks and talk. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of her. 

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Me and Mom

And lately, I've been thinking alot about you.

Alex will be 7 in September. He's really smart, but extremely hard to figure out. I wonder if you had the same problem with us?

But that's not the reason you've been on my mind, it's more than just sharing what's going on with us. A friend of mine at work is now going through a similar test with her mom, that you and I went through.

Her mom was diagnosed with Stage IV non-small cell lung cancer. It's throughout her body, just like it was yours. It's in her rib, where yours was in your back and rib, and it's just as painful. They are looking for signs of it moving to her brain, like it did in you.

I remember when that happened, too. Right after your 60th birthday, and we had come out to celebrate. Grandmother stayed behind for a bit, and you lost the ability to get the words from your head to your mouth. You, who had always been the verbose one in the bunch, couldn't say anything. The cancer had invaded your sacred place... your mind.

That was the beginning of the end, but we didn't it know it then.

My friend's mom has started chemo treatments, and is doing her best to stay positive. I try to share my experiences with my friend, in hopes that some of the things I regretted after you passed, are not her regrets.

Although we talked at Xmas before you died, and shared some of our thoughts and feelings... I feel like I spent most of my time trying to be strong for you... when maybe, what you needed, was to see how much I was going to miss you. I didn't want to do that, for fear of the effect it might have on you... like when I told Grandmother Watson I wish she would do the chemo again so she could be around to see me get married. She did the chemo, when she truly didn't want to, and she died. I didn't want to put any undue pressure on you... but in doing so, I didn't share my most intimate thoughts about how you had influenced me, how much I loved you, and how much I would miss you when you were gone.

I regretted not getting Doug home to see you in time... when you could talk and share. We had Xmas, but I told Doug, 'don't worry, I'll make sure you're back in time," and I failed. He's forgiven me, I just can't forgive myself.

And then the thought, did I do enough? Did I give you the comfort you needed? Did you feel me holding your hand that whole last 24 hours? Could you tell when I put the teddy bear there, when I needed to attend to nature's call?

If my experiences can help any of my friends with this life lesson they're going through, I want to be there for them... when we share, we hopefully lessen the burden that they might have to carry.

My release, reminder, remembrance and honoring of your life culminates in my Lung Run Walk/Run. This year, I'm adding more names to my shirt... I hope there comes a year where I don't add any.

I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. I just wanted to share my thoughts. I just wanted people to know how much you mean to me, and why I do this... and why I feel honored to wear those people's names on my shirt... and why I am so willing and honored to talk with my friends who are going and have gone through... the loss of a parent.

I miss you every day. I love you.