The Backstory

I was a chubby baby. My grandmother was from the generation that believed chubby equaled healthy, and skinny equaled sickly, as far as babies were concerned. Consequently, she fed me heavy whipped cream and other rich treats to "fatten me up" until it was practically coming out my ears.

It didn't help that, as a young child, all my favorite activities were of a sedentary nature: coloring, legos, other crafts... As I got older and made friends in the neighborhood, outdoor activities became more important, but my chubbiness nonetheless remained.
I think I was around eight or nine the first time I noticed there were some differences between me and the really popular girls my age. It wasn't about boys (yet) - more like an internal measure of comparison. Not as skinny as, my hair's not as long as, not as pretty as... whomever I chose to compare myself to.

I can't say I let it bother me too much. In the little short stories I'd write, my alter ego was always skinny, with long flowing hair, but in my real life, I was pretty content. Into my teens, I was active in scouting and soccer, had plenty of friends, and boys liked me. I loved candy and sweets, and my mom's cooking, but everything seemed to balance out, and by the time I was in 7th grade, I had pretty much arrived at the body shape I think is natural for me - small on top, but with some "junk in the trunk"...

I lived in that blessedly ignorant world of those who never worry about their weight until I was 19 and living with my boyfriend. Aided by Couple Cooking (those late-night, rich dinners to celebrate that we're in love, special and fabulous) and abetted by unconditional love, I started piling on the pounds. My loving boyfriend lovingly raised some concerns about my health and my future, which I chose to ignore. I was happy. I loved good food. My boyfriend loved me no matter how I looked. What could possibly be the matter?

Looking back, these 20+ years later, I see exactly what was the matter. There is always a "mind" reason when my body changes. That is to say, when I start gaining weight, there is always an emotional issue I'm trying to ignore, suppress with food, numb out from by overeating, distract myself from with sweets and treats.

In this case, it turned out to be the fact that, loving and wonderful as he was, my boyfriend was not right for me, and I was not ready for a serious relationship (at 19 - duh...). I ended up hurting him terribly, and escaped the fallout by moving clear across the world, to Orange County, CA. And to a whole new world of body image issues.