The Beginning

Well, I'm not sure exactly if this is the beginning, but it's definitely where I can remember it starting. I figured that maybe I should give a background of where I'm coming from.

If I remember it correctly, it started in eighth grade. Oh! Those tween years where bodies are changing, friends are changing, and classes are changing. No longer are we the little, cute, and innocent children that everyone loves, nor are we the responsible, mature adults that we think we are. We just want to fit it, and in middle school, no one really does.

I'm not going to lie and say I had a lot of friends because I didn't. They were changing, and I felt like I was being left in the dust. Instead of hanging out all the time (because no one invited me), I stayed home and studied. Now, this isn't bad at all. Studies are good, but so are friends. I didn't really have anyone. Sure, I had a couple, but no one I could really hang out with, no one I really felt comfortable around. I wanted friends.

I wanted to fit in.

I think it's a natural desire to want to fit it. We are sent to this earth in families. It's a sense of belonging that we long for. Humans are made for interacting with other humans. It's how God designed us to fulfill his plan. But, when this feeling overcomes logical thinking, the results can be a bit more extreme.

I was never the most athletic kid growing up. I was overweight, uncoordinated, and had asthma. I'm sure I looked kind of comical, this chunky girl running to catch a ball. For the longest time I hated gym class. I liked to play, but I hated the physical tests like running a mile or doing pull-ups (something that I have yet to achieve). I hated changing in the locker-rooms for class. I hated the really athletic kids who showed off and made you feel bad because you're not as good as them. OK, maybe I didn't hate them. I've never hated anyone, but I extremely disliked those kids. They just made gym class so difficult. Sure, maybe they never really said anything directly to my face, but I could tell, by the way they treated me and others, what some of the things they were thinking.

Looking back, I probably was a bit paranoid. Maybe they did think those things of me, but I shouldn't have cared. Now, I really care what most people think about me. I'm me, and that's all that matters. However, keep in mind that this is coming from a middle-schooler's perspective. We don't always have the most rational thinking.

Anyway, during one of these days of physical testing my eight-grade year, we were measuring body weight. When I saw that dial go to 181, I knew I was done with this. I was done with being the fat, overweight girl that everyone picked last for teams, that was made fun of in the hallways. I was done with it, and I had to something about it.