I've been fighting a lot of anger lately. I'm just fed up with so many issues in my life. I try to let the anger propel me to do braver things, things that I've been procrastinating on. It helps me face issues I've been hiding from. One of the issues I was avoiding was a friendship that had gone down the drain. I didn't want to acknowledge we weren't wanting the same things anymore.
I had been friends with this woman for twelve years. We had shared so many amazing memories, laughter, tears. In the beginning we were thick as thieves. We did everything together. She was a great ear, an understanding confidant, a cheerleader. She wanted the best for me, and I wanted the best for her. When I wasn't strong, she stood beside me. When I was afraid, she bravely told me why I shouldn't be. When people insulted me, mistreated me, ignored me, she let me know I was worth being treated well.
I don't know what happened, but the stronger I got, the more I found my voice, the more unsettled she became. When I found my confidence, my backbone...she became intimidated. When I stopped giving a shit what other people thought, spoke my mind, did what I wanted without regard of judgment from others, she voiced subtle objections.
And then I started losing weight. When I met her, I was 440 lbs.
When you were always the funny, fat friend, you don't really offer much competition for other women. I did attract attention, but it wasn't the threatening kind. I disarmed people with my sense of humor. Heck, I think that's how she and I became friends.
My sense of humor was a coping mechanism. For years, my life was so sad, so depressing that if I didn't find something funny about every day, I worried I might just give up. Through the years, it helped me cope with situations so heinous, so depraved. Suffice it to say, many say I'm the funniest woman they know. I've also heard that my mind is so twisted and warped that if a person didn't know me, they'd think I was a nutjob.
After years of using my humor to process information, I realized that I hadn't dealt with the meat of my hurt. I hated to confront it. It was so overwhelming, that I ate every time I was sad, angry, whatever. That's one of the issues that brought me to 440 lbs.
My fat helped me hide from men, the world. It was evidence of self-loathing.
When I started to deal with my demons, the fat started to melt off.
My confidence came to the surface.
I have a much healthier body, but I found my years as a quiet, suffering chubby chick gave others the wrong impression. It may have seemed I didn't have an opinion. I'm finding, the past few years that I'm no longer ashamed of what happened to me. I'm not ashamed of my body. I have changed a lot.
My relationships have been the collateral damage, but I'm not sure that's such a bad thing.

Top: With my daughter, bottom with my cousin