Here’s How I Got Fat
I was scrolling through pictures from an incredible writers’ conference I attended last week. As I went through them, I had a happy, light feeling in my heart. This was one of those events that feel like they’re changing something in your life, and I enjoyed seeing the faces of new friends.
And then I came across this one.
That’s me. I had an experience, seeing this photograph that I haven’t had in a while.
I’m willing to bet you know the one.
In every other photograph, I saw whole people. I had zero negative reaction.
But this one? I saw saggy boobs and a belly roll. I saw weird hair that isn’t used to Nashville humidity. I saw a funky chicken neck that hasn’t quite gotten used to being less full.
It took a while for that all to come together until I was looking at a candid picture that was just me. Just a middle-aged lady with a genuine smile on her face. And then I realized that it’s probably time for me to talk about this.
Let’s start with how I got fat.
It’s pretty simple really: I ate a lot.
The people I love, the people I share my DNA with — most of them turned to alcohol to manage things like anxiety and depression and the thousand, thousand things that everyone, everyone has to deal with.
