Wallflower Stand-Out

Summer summed it up perfectly last time I saw her:

"I gained the weight because I didn't want to deal with boys."

Yup. Me, too.

I had my young, naive heart broken rather spectacularly in college--not once, but twice. Wasn't Boy 1 and Boy 2's fault that they didn't love me back. Wasn't my fault that I thought I loved them. But I didn't have the life experience I needed at that time, and it was hard to get over the feeling that somehow I was lacking in some way. That I was unlovable. Might as well cry over my Mac and Cheese, right? Have another Dr. Pepper, Meg. It's going to be a long, lonely night.

The weight piled on. It's like an out-of-control roller coaster ride. I couldn't stop it, and wasn't even so sure that I deserved to get off, anyway.

Losing the weight has been about so much more than just improving my habits and physical health. I've had to improve my mental and emotional health. I had to get to a point where I was tired of abusing my body through unhealthy habits and total apathy. It had to be ME who walked into the gym and ask for help. Before that could happen, I had to figure out that I am loveable and worthy. I deserve this--but it took me a while to figure that out.

Obviously, I'm not done. I want to take another forty pounds off, but already, I walk taller, with more confidence. People are noticing this--and I, even in my utter cluelessness, am noticing them noticing me. It's very liberating.

Even at my largest, most people would hold the door for me at the gym, if they reached it first. But it was that type of holding that entails opening the door, walking through, then giving it a little extra push so it won't slam in my face as they walk away. Polite, yes, but nothing special.

Lately, though, I'm noticing that more and more men at the gym are stopping, physically holding the door open, and letting me preceed them. It's such a subtle difference, but it is there. That little act--stopping and letting the lady go first, is a sign that they are watching me, noticing me.

Then there was the guy at 7-Eleven the other day. I stopped for gas and ran inside to get $20 from the ATM. I had to wait for a guy to finish his transaction. In the past, I would have been invisible, blending into the candy bars and chips. These days, with my glossy dark hair, bright red lipstick and green eyeliner, not to mention the confidence, I stand out. This guy noticed.

"These machines...such a rip-off! $2.50 transaction fee!" He smiled at me, then apologized for taking so long--as though it's his fault that the machine is chugging along slowly.

I would be lying if I said I'm not flattered. Too long, I've faded into the wallpaper, and there is something empowering about finally being looked at. I hate it--for society, for me in my twenties, for everyone--that I become more conventionally attractive, that I see myself as more attractive--as the weight comes off. But I'm not going to lie and say I'm not ready to reap the benefits.