I have an inner Chub-Scout. Sometimes, on binge days, she gets embraced a little tighter than usual. I use the term to be funny about it, and it tends to get a laugh, but it’s the bane of my existence.

By looking at me, you probably would just be confused by this statement until you saw me on this “binge” or “cheat” day. I’m your average twenty-something: purposefully purchasing jeans that do not induce OSTS, and have even been called ‘thin’ by the rare observer. Which is nice. But in my head, dear reader, it’s sweet but simply not true.

Bottom line is: no matter how I look now, I was the fat kid.

I know what you’re thinking: if I appear to be an average-sized girl now, what difference does it make that I spent my childhood chubby? The weight didn’t stay with me, right?

Not even close.

A fat-kid complex isn’t something you can shed by counting calories and drinking your eight glasses of water a day. Not when you’ve been on a diet half your life, have dealt with the name-calling and — what can actually be worse — being flat-out ignored. You’re stuck with those memories of the gangly girls in your elementary school classes calling you “fat” with that look of disdain, like you’re a failure at life because you’re bigger. You’re ignored by the boys you have crushes on in junior high and high school, convinced that your fate is to go unwanted.

And so it’s been ingrained in your head. You don’t know why it has to be this way, but what you are is not good enough. Period. Read More »

I remember the night that I first met this guy. In my head it plays out like a movie scene—the room began to move in slow motion, everyone else around me faded away. He was just that beautiful. When we shook hands I felt a spark and saw the twinkle in his eyes that made me fall in love with him every single time I saw him. Unfortunately, after doing a bit of research around town, I learned that he had a girlfriend. Freakin’ figures, right?

He and I ended up becoming really close friends, and spent a lot of time together. My feelings for him never went away and it began to be kind of a running joke between the two of us, and everyone else we knew—our friends knew, his girlfriend thought it was funny. And sometimes I thought I was crazy, but I always felt like there was something else there between us. I would catch him staring at me from across the room, and every time he would walk past me he had to put his hands on me someplace. But… he loved his girlfriend so I didn’t think too much about it and figured it was part of the running joke. Read More »