Monday, September 20, 2010

Confessions of an ex-heifer.

It has come to my attention that I closely resemble an M&M. On the outside is a hard, colorful outer shell. And on the inside - chocolate.

From ages birth until I was 18 I would venture to say I could have easily gotten a scholarship to Jenny Craig; as I was the perfect candidate. Rotund and full of imagination, I was your favorite fat kid. And oblivious at that. I was the token fatty with all of my friends. They were twigs, and I didn't seem to let it stop me from attempting to borrow their clothes. Not to mention, my sister was a star gymnast and cheerleader who went through boyfriends like I go through brain cells when I watch Jersey Shore. Needless to say, self-image issues began early.

Since I weighed 135lbs in 3rd grade, I had a lot of physical clout over a lot of people. Specifically, boys on the soccer field at recess. I planned my wardrobe accordingly, but sometimes I had to wear something warmer than my Sheryl Crow tee, jorts and my Nike sneaks. I remember specifically the pairs of jeans I would leave unbuttoned for school, because they were puncturing my stomach. So much so, that had I been pregnant, it would have been easy for me to have a self-handled abortion. Sweatshirts became a necessity for coverage.

When I was 18, my sister and I went to Starbucks and began chit chatting about our youth. She told me that one evening during family dinner, she noticed I was going in for thirds. It happens to be that my mother's spaghetti is that bad ass. Anyway, after dinner she burst into tears. She told me she was crying because she thought I would never lose the weight; that I would become obese. My mother reassured her that it was just baby fat, and that it would pass. To which my sister replied: "She's 14!"

My fupa didn't go away immediately. It took a little while. The summer before 10th grade I started working out a little harder for soccer and volleyball, so I slimmed down and voila! Got a boyfriend. In his defense, he's not a shallow ass bag, my new sexy teenage bod was all he knew. We just met. Anyway, during volleyball preseason I was moved to Varsity as a sophomore to give the bench some depth. And I wasn't about to be the salmon in this river, so I did what the other girls did as game-day rituals. Chick-fil-a before every game, peanut butter straight out of the tub before games when we had tournaments (you know, quick energy), and something after the game for muscle rebuilding. Keep in mind, I rode the bench for half of the season since the entire team was comprised of seniors. I put on a few pounds, and was dumped around Christmas time. We got back together, but I'm still convinced he started having second thoughts about the outer me, what with my helmet haircut and my perpetual Buddha belly.

You know, I'm proud of my bulbous youth. I was a statistic,  and now I'm just a sloth. No longer being an athlete really takes a toll on your motivation to do anything but sit around. After my shoulder surgery it was hard to bounce back into my once-active lifestyle. Now I'm paying someone to make me work out. You'd think I would know how to work out after 18 years of doing so.

But I need to offset the amount of chocolate covered almonds I consume. So, money well spent.