It begins with my chin, my belly and my upper arms.
That which did not used to be there.
I go to the mall to try on clothes for work. First size 10. Then 12, and sometimes 14.
In college it was a 6, sometimes an 8 for comfort.
In high school it was 4 and 6.
In junior high I would write my twice daily weight in the margins of journal. 98 lbs., 96, 94, 92, 90, 89 ½, 88, 88 ½ (I want to die) 88 lbs. I was, very simply, anorexic. Bulimic. An alcoholic. Depressed.
And now I am medium.
I am not well, I am not in crisis.
I took double dessert Monday night and no dessert tonight, I woke up yesterday morning and sat in meditation; I woke up this morning and simply sat.
This is what I did not every want to be. Mediocre. Ordinary. Medium. Bothered by the concrete.
And yet. I am alive, I am learning, I am growing. Today I walked to a park and stared at the ocean, surrounded by three beautiful women who are medium like me.
