I grew up in a place (Central PA) at a time (80’s and 90’s) where size was important. I spent most of my life worried about my weight, beginning in elementary school as I remember walking the hallways of Stiegel Elementary and hearing the <swish, swish> of the corduroy pants I was wearing when my thighs rubbed together. I remember vividly how jealous I was of anyone in jeans! Oh, denim the miraculous fabric that didn’t announce my arrival or hold onto every speck of lint it found.

I officially got my first pair of jeans from a friend’s mom in the 5th grade. They were stone washed AND had the zippers at the ankles to truly make them “pegged.” I remember what a gift it was to get them from a friend and the Art Teacher, Mrs. Pelsis from Latvia gave me a Penn State sweatshirt for some spirit day at school. Jeans and a sweatshirt? I felt like the coolest kid going in 1991.

By the time I hit puberty, I was so concerned about my physical appearance that my best friend, Chris Wingle and I would spend 4 days a week after school in my living room doing fitness VHS tapes. We alternated Sweating to the Oldies and an ab work video that was hilariously 80’s but intense enough that when we led an ab class in gym the teacher told us it was too much and we had to tame it down. Ya’ll we were doing side crunches, it wasn’t parkour.

I remember saving my lunch money and eating the soup special for 85 cents/day for lunch at school. And it made me feel so special that the costumer would rave how I fit into the storied antique pieces. My mother recently saw a picture of me from those days and said I looked like a waif.

In college, I ate 2 servings of ice cream a day and gained my freshman 15 and felt like the fattest girl in history but honestly, I was healthy. In my 20s I underwent quite the personal development but I definitely spent MONTHS focused on the scales every morning. My first husband and I would weigh in every day and track it on the daily calendar. Looking back, I’m mortified.

I was obsessed with Isagenix in 2009 and became a professional actor in 2010-11. I desperately wanted to be a distance runner, but my orthopedist squashed that after 3 ACL surgeries he told me to temper my expectations on my body.

I look back now on how amazing, strong and adaptable my body was during this time. I am disappointed in myself for still wanting improvement at a time when I was both strong and healthy. But I have those memories, those pictures and those accomplishments.

I am now 43 years old and have had 4 ACL surgeries (3 right, 1 left). I’ve done the math and I gained 20 lbs in the hospital and 50lbs since I left the hospital. It pains me to admit my current weight and my lack of mobility makes it super hard to even fathom a calorie reducing/strength building situation moving forward. I am fatter and heavier than I ever thought I would be.

But in my head- I’m not. It’s legitimately not my fault that my body stopped acquiescing and I can’t move more. My oxygen needs don’t allow it. Yes, I’m sad that I’ve slowed down, but outward physically I do not mind. I use Faecbook flashback to see WHO and WHAT I’ve been and I know it’s real. I’m proud of what I have done. The fact that my body is now much rounder and more sedentary doesn’t phase me. My mind thinks I can still do things that I 100% am not physically capable of, but that’s growth for another day. When I walk into the pool scooting at 0.8mph with my oxygen tank in my Mumu bathing suit- in my head, I’m wearing my 2 piece in a golden tan.

I forget sometimes how big I’ve gotten and I still try to be the playful, flirtatious person I’ve always been. Spoiler- it doesn’t work as well when you’re 100lbs overweight, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve finally gotten to the confidence place in my life where it doesn’t matter. In my head, when I put on an outfit or a bathing suit, the size is not a XXL. In my mind, I am my best self. Inside and out. That might seem silly, but I have no shame and no self consciousness. I am me, I know what the best me is, and if my physical body is no longer able to keep up, that’s ok. I’m going to keep moving forward with the confidence of who I WAS, who I know I am INSIDE and I’m going to ride that confidence.

I’m sorry that when I was 15 I was starving myself as a shy kid who didn’t believe in herself, but her 43 year old self is 100lbs heavier and in the headspace and confidence that I am my best self.

I didn’t take advantage of the benefits of my “culturally amazing body” when it was relevant, but the truth remains even if my body doesn’t. Guess what, friends? I’m dying. I’m no longer worried about my outer appearance. I care about making myself happy in the time I have left, no matter how many chubby rolls are involved.

Finger lickin’ good, friends.