Dictionary

Loud. Talkative. Outgoing. Sensitive. Hyper.

These are all words that have been used to describe me—to my face. But it was always ones I thought were said behind my back that haunted me.

Heavy. Big. Huge. Fat.

Sometimes it’s hard to describe one person to another. We use words that we think define them. “Oh, you know her, the pretty blonde girl who drives the Lexus.” “He’s that shy guy with the bushy eyebrows.”

Yeah, they’re quick descriptions. But when you hear them enough, it’s easy to use them as definitions.

For so long my fat defined me. I mean, how else could you describe me to someone else without using my most obvious physical trait?

Physical traits are different from emotional ones. But when all I can see and define myself by are my physical qualities, how can I expect others to see anything else?

I’m a daughter. A friend. A sister. I sometimes take things too personally. I am compassionate and empathetic. I have hopes and dreams. I’m a writer. A girl who sings and dances in her car. I am enthusiastic about silly things. I am often scatterbrained. I am afraid of succeeding. I am more afraid of failure.

I can say the alphabet faster backward than forward. I can recite all the words to most early-1990s rap songs. I love cheesy TV. I am giggly and girly and really do want world peace.

Do people see all these other things? More importantly, do I? These days, I look at photos or even in the mirror and I think maybe my weight is no longer my most defining characteristic. And that’s not just because I’ve lost 90 pounds.

It’s because finally I’m starting to see there’s more to me than just a fat girl.