Freaks, Geeks, and Past-Life Nonsense

"When I was fat..."

That's what my friend calls it, telling her story so objectively. She was suffering from PCOS, precancerous cells, endometriosis, and so many other issues I can't even count. The more I hear her story, the more I realized that she was in her mid-twenties basically waiting to die. The doctors had given her few options to treat her conditions. She decided that she had to take her health into her own hands and managed to lose 135 lbs (almost half her body weight), now at a healthy 140. She's changed her lifestyle and is a constant support for others struggling with PCOS and endo.

This isn't why I'm proud of her.

I'm proud of her because she's one of the most driven people I've ever met. I'm proud of her for calling "bullshit" when people told her that it could not be done. I'm proud of her for being one of the kindest people that I know and having an open heart to everyone she meets. I'm proud of her for being so giving of herself and having such a pure heart. Before I knew any of this about her, we had instantly clicked. Now I appreciate her as one of the people that has loved me in spite of myself in a time when I felt unlovable.

This is why my ears perked up to hear her say it again. "When I was fat." She was quiet for a moment and turned up to look me in the eyes. "I still have that person inside of me. I'm still the same." The feeling was all too familiar. I could imagine this wonderful person that I knew and how going through all that had made her feel, how other people had made her feel. I managed an, "I know," and smiled with sincerity. She laughed nervously, looking at me with surprise. "What do you mean you know?"

We are more transparent that we think.

My initial thought was that I knew her, really knew her. I knew that the wonderful person she is today is a result of every adversity that she's ever faced. Secondly, I had a piece of that within myself. My, "when I was fat," had a different dialogue. My "when I was fat," sounded like kids teasing me in the hall and running away in tears. It was eating lunch in the bathroom because I was so incredibly shy and had no one to sit with. It was the ever-present fear that anyone who was nice to me had their own motives and would eventually have a laugh at my expense. It was the girl that sat in the back of the room with vacant eyes, completely shut off from the world. My, "I know," means that person in me sees the person in you.

We are not the same.

I told her that it was okay to recognize what had happened and that it has passed. Being afraid of what we once were is like looking back on progress and saying, "Wow, that's a long way to fall." We have the choice whether to fall or to rise. I wish that she could see herself the way that I see her. At the same time I recognize that this journey is hers alone just as mine is mine alone. That same shy girl would now hold her middle finger in the air and yell, "F*** your standards," at the expense of the wall I've built to keep people out. One day we'll get there.

Photo credit: Jorge Flores