I loved to dance when I was little, but I eventually stopped taking lessons. I was tired of always being the biggest one, needing the biggest costume, sucking in my stomach, hoping something would fit.
I wanted to look like my mother and grandmother—small, dark-haired, fine-boned, like blackbirds or Russian princesses. Instead, I looked like a Dutch peasant from a Brueghel painting. I looked like I belonged in a Beef: It’s What’s for Dinner commercial, and all I wanted was to be a fine, black-winged bird.
Growing Up Feeling “Too Big”
Some of my most painful memories involve trying to find something to wear. As a chubby adolescent, I was always between sizes. I ended up in cobbled-together outfits, held together with safety pins, feeling like an impostor.
Shopping was a nightmare, made worse by my size-two mother who would say, “Hmmm… is that a little tight?” Every time. Yes, Mom. Everything I’ve ever tried on has been a little tight. My whole life feels a little tight.
Being too big was a liability. It made me an outsider. And it certainly didn’t help my dating life.
I heard the fateful phrases a thousand times:
“You’re just like a sister.”
“You’re not the kind of girl guys date—you’re the kind of girl they marry.”
Which, now that I am married, is a compliment. But when you’re fifteen and just want to get asked to homecoming, being “marriage material” is as thrilling as having a “good personality.” Who wants a good personality when you could have a cute butt?
The Lie I Believed About My Body
Birthdays were especially hard. Each year, I thought, This time, by this birthday, I’ll be my new self. But I never was.
I’d have a moment alone at my party—blinded by sadness—knowing I’d drag the same shame into another year. And yet, hope would resurface: This is the year. This one.
I shopped defensively, hiding behind the “right” clothes. I watched my friends shop for fun—it was as foreign to me as breathing underwater.
I had pages torn from J.Crew catalogs, filled with the clothes I’d buy once I was thin. I knew life would be easier then. But that life never came.
