After graduating from college, taking 6 years to complete my degree, I was not exactly awash with ideas on how I was going to conquer the universe. I still was employed at JC Penney and had worked their for 4 years at the point when I graduated and was also offered a position at the Legal Aide non-profit where I had interned during my last year in school. I think in retrospect I may have been the only Sacramento native who didn't want to work at the Capital for my internship. That was again, all based upon my body size, the limitations being placed on my body by my weight, and what I assumed would be the judgement of people who liked their female interns young, petite and perky. So while I liked the more liberal bent of the work being done at the Legal Aide office, it was also a place where I knew after meeting the staff, that I would be appreciated for my skills, and not how I looked in a skirt suit.
The job I was offered at Legal Aide was that of an administrative assistant. There were several perks to the job including flexibility and having benefits offered to people who met a 60% time threshold (22.5hrs a week, which is what I worked). That combined with my job at JCPenney certainly kept me busy. As some people may have learned, 2 part time jobs doesn't equal 1 full time job, it's more effort than that. But I enjoyed the work, and enjoyed helping people. The one draw back to this situation was that I was extremely overqualified for BOTH of the positions for which I was now employed. This was to be an ongoing theme for me when it came to employment. Because of the overwhelming insecurity I felt due to my weight, I just naturally was applying for jobs that were way below my skill and intellectual level. While this created situations where I wasn't exactly challenged by my jobs, it did lend itself to me rarely being told I "no" in relation to applying for jobs. Since I was so overqualified from the get-go, it wasn't too hard for me to get the jobs I was applying for.
I lasted at both jobs a total of 7 months at which point I left JCPenney because there was no chance of advancement and I wasn't able to handle the stress and constant commute of working two part time jobs. With my parent's blessing (Something I still sought at the age of 24) I quit JCPenney. At my exit interview I was told that they had wanted to give me a lead position but they were worried that I would not be able to handle the more physical aspect of the job which included bringing things to other associates and providing support. They were concerned I wouldn't be able to walk the distances necessary. While I appreciate the faith that they had in me, I was upset that my weight was once again becoming a barrier in reaching even the mediocre goals I had at that point in my life.
From December of 1998 until April of 2000 I worked at the Legal Aide office as an administrative assistant but since I'd also been an intern, I was able to provide support to the interns who were working there as well. I coordinated a silent auction for a fundraiser and used my diplomatic phone skills to do a lot more than what was typically required of the previous admin assistant. When I approached the program director requesting to discuss the possibility of full time placement, I was told that there was no money in the budget but that I also had displayed some characteristics that made them concerned that I wouldn't' be suitable for a permanent position. This was not weight related but had more to do with the fact that I was bored in a position where I was genuinely not being challenged and so I was sort of slacking off when I could and it was being noticed. I was upset at what I thought was a slap in the face, because of my "above and beyond" tasks but in retrospect I understand what they were getting at. So I began my quest for other full time employment.
This quest for full time employment also was born out of my intense need to get out of my parent's house. At this time I was still living with my parents and I was not getting along with my mom very well. We are the same people, judgmental, defensive and at that time I was eating a great deal in an attempt to cope with emotions. It's my PERSONAL opinion that my mom used alcohol as a coping tool, and so when you have two people who were using substances to cope with their feelings rather than talking and more important LISTENING to each other. That's pretty much a gourmet recipe for conflict. There was lot's of yelling and fighting and lots of hurtful words on both sides. It just felt like NOTHING I did was good enough. Not my clothes, my hairstyle, my friends, my plans. And it was just to the point where I had to spread my wings and get out.
The year prior to my "escape from Alcatraz" I had been approached by a loving friend who had asked me if I wanted to start doing something about my weight. If you're anything like me, there's always some excuse for why you can't make your health the number one priority. "I've got school, I've got work, I can't start till Monday, next week, next month next year." But once I was down to one job, and nothing else, there was really no logical reason why I shouldn't start. And I felt I was ready to start putting the food down. This friend of mine suggested that we both do Weight Watchers and so I enrolled and started working the program. Since this friend of mine lived in the East Bay area of Oakland, I would frequently get on a 7:00am train in Sacramento to go to a Weight Watchers meeting in Oakland with her. I was aware even at that point that I COULD NOT DO THIS ALONE. I needed her emotional support and her nonjudgmental way of making talking about food and eating a lot easier to handle. This was officially the beginning of my health and weight loss journey.
I remember the first WW meeting vividly. We met for coffee before hand, and then went to the meeting. The scales that they had at the meetings topped out at 440lbs. When I stepped on one scale, it went all the way to the top and zeroed out. When I think about the amount of shame I had ALWAYS carried around with me about my weight, the fact that I didn't run screaming out of the room is what I still believe to be a miracle. I could have so very easily just walked out. But I didn't. I stayed and for 6 more weeks I stepped on the scale and it zeroed out. Once the scale started registering a weight, I was relieved but in retrospect I can only estimate that my weight when I began WW was somewhere around 475lbs. As I heard once, the problem with weighing 475lbs is not how far it is from 400, but how close it is to 500. I thank the God of my understanding for getting me through those first emotional and stressful weeks of trying to get some sort of perimeter around my food.
I was attending WW in both the Bay Area and also in Sacramento and in February of 2000 I finally had made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon to discuss my hip. I'd had an MRI and was going into seeing this physician for the very first time. I'd lost some weight at this point and was now at about 400lbs. I met this doctor who took one look at my reports and said, "There's nothing that I can do for you now, you need a total hip replacement and you need to be 200lbs or under for that. I'll see you when you weigh 200lbs." That was it. No compassion, no understanding, no listening. It was devastating for me. Here I was for the first time making an effort ON MY OWN, to do something about my weight, and the doctor basically came in and popped by balloon with a machete. I literally went home, crawled into bed and cried for two solid days. That experience has led me to carry around a certain prejudice towards orthopedic surgeon's to this day. I'm glad I've finally met a doctor who is able to effectively mix reality with compassion and I'm hoping he'll be the doctor to do my joint replacement surgeries when I'm ready.
Something interesting happened after that meeting with the doctor. I stopped losing weight. I was yo-yoing around the same 5lbs for the next two months, feeling more discouraged and depressed than I had in quite a while. Once Saturday morning after a WW meeting I was having coffee with participant who like me was one of the few people who didn't qualify for Medicare in the class, and she asked me if I'd ever thought of going to Overeaters Anonymous*. Not for lack of qualifying, but no one in my family had ANY experience of exposure with 12 Step programs and I'd honestly never heard of them. Part of my reason for agreeing to go to a meeting with her was because I thought she was such a groovy chick and I wanted to be her friend, I still do think she's a super groovy chick by the way. When she showed up the following Saturday with a meeting schedule and suggested we go to the meeting together that evening, I was ready for anything. In my spinning around the same 5lbs for two months, I was realizing that my weight had a lot less to do with food than I had previously thought. I was willing to try anything.
*A note about discussing OA in this blog: As you may or may not know, OA, much like Alcoholic's Anonymous is a 12 Step recovery program from compulsive overeating. The anonymity that is fundamental to this program is to insure that the MESSAGE of the program is what is communicated rather than any one person being a star, guru, or treated special for any particular reason. OA has been an extremely significant part of my life and I can not speak about becoming physically, emotionally or spiritually healthy without discussing OA. If you're reading this and want to know more about OA, please go to www.oa.org to find out more about the program and attend a meeting in your area. There is also information about telephone and on-line meetings available on the site if you're in a more rural area. WHAT I AM SHARING IS JUST MY EXPERIENCE, STRENGTH AND HOPE AND NOT THE OPINIONS OF OA AS A WHOLE.
My next post will talk about my first experiences with OA and the larger world that opened up to me as a result of me being willing to be more open. Thanks for reading.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
The College of hard knocks........
After graduating from high school I went to the local university for a few reasons. First of all, I went to CSUS because I didn't think I had the grades to go anywhere else. For some reason I had bought into the idea that I wasn't as smart as other girls I'd gone to school with. Regardless of any real measurable intelligence, I certainly didn't apply my smarts to good effect while in school. My brother was a year ahead of me in grade school and I had several teachers ask me why I couldn't be more like my brother when it came to academics. So to say I was striving for mediocrity was an understatement. I think I played "eni-meani-miney-mo" when it came to taking the SAT exam. I was happy when I got into CSUS' school of music. Participating in choir in high school was an important way for me to feel part-of and it was possibly the first time I'd found something I'd really loved that I excelled at and for which I received recognition. I also stayed home for college for the simple reason that I knew I wasn't ready to go away to school. Having the not so positive experiences with Co-ed social situations throughout high school, I had absolutely NO FAITH that I would be received with anymore kindness than I was when I went to the Holy Bowl my sophomore year of high school. My lack of confidence and my fear of being judged on my size drove ALL of my choices, and my deciding to stay home for college was no different in that regard.
Going from a school with a total enrollment of 700+ to a college that had 25,000 enrolled students was a shock to say the least. I had some comfort of knowing the university because both my parents taught there as I was growing up. At the very least I had access to their office in the Business Building where I could hide out effectively if needed. Because my father was a full time tenured professor and my mom taught part time, they shared their office because they were never on campus at the same time. I had access to a small office with ample air conditioning, a stereo and a vast supply of diet Coke. Not a bad deal when I thought about it. In retrospect however, it was another way that I was able to stay "apart" from the rest of the student body.
While my general education classes where relatively easy because of the great education I'd received from St. Francis, I found the music school to be a bigger challenge. My musical experience was limited to singing in group ensembles, and doing most of my learning by ear. I was suddenly thrown into piano proficiency, music theory and literature classes, in addition to private voice lessons. The theory classes were much like trying to learn a foreign language as quickly as possible. Despite my earnest effort, my grades in music classes fell progressively each semester. This was turning something I loved into something I hated. It was just too hard. Most of the people in classes with me had been reading sheet music and playing instruments for years and that just wasn't my story. When I received a "D" in my third semester of lower level music theory, I knew that I was going to have to change my major if I had any hope of graduating.
Because my parent's both taught at the school, I received financial credits that allowed me to take 12 or more units for virtually no cost. I realize now, as I watch people struggle to pay for college, how very lucky I was. When I told my parents that I wanted to change my major, their response was, "Take a variety of classes," trying to make sure what I took would count for general ed credits in the end. From photography to oceanography I was lucky to be able to spend time figuring out what I wanted to study. I feel bad for kids who have to race through college as if it were a vocational school. While I understand it, I'm grateful to say that I received an education rather than just degree.
During my quest for a major, I experienced my first bought of severe depression along with really being unable to control my eating. I was telling my parents that I was going to class, all the while I was getting a great deal of fast food and then going to the underground parking garage at the Downtown Plaza mall and parking in there and eating and sleeping for the whole day. I didn't understand at the time what was happening. But I was just unable to cope with the feelings of solitude and being alone. My friends who were a class behind me at St. Francis had left for colleges outside of Sacramento, and my best friend had finally transferred to a college in southern California. Because I had not spent a great deal of energy developing relationships on campus I felt acutely alone for the first time. One of the hardest consequences for me to accept when I experienced this deep depression was the fact that by not going to classes and not dropping them from my schedule, I failed several classes and dropped a whole point in my GPA which was unrecoverable. I went from a 3.5 GPA to a 2.2 GPA in two semesters. It's like parachuting off a cliff. Climbing UP the mountain takes a great deal of time, the descent is much quicker.
The other significant event of college was the fact that I discovered that I had severe inflammatory arthritis in my left hip. I had begun to experience severe burning and pain in my left hip and wasn't sure why. I would sit in a desk in class for 50 to 120 minutes depending on the day and when I would go to stand up the pain would be so severe that I was almost unable to put weight on the joint. After finally realizing that something was wrong, I went to a rhumatologist that I'd seen during high school when I'd had a bout of inflammation in my hands, and after an X-ray and MRI I was told that I had NO cartilage in my left hip. My doctor tried to assure me that my weight was not the sole reason why this was happening but it certainly wasn't helping. When I think back I can only imagine that my weight was somewhere between 350 and 400lbs at the time. A life already difficult was made even more so because of the literal and emotional weight I was forcing myself to carry.
It took me approximately 16 months to dig myself out of my depression and to be honest my memory of that time isn't real vivid. I finally recommitted to getting back into school, declared myself a Government major because of a very enthusiastic teacher that made learning a joy. It was at this time that I also had to register with the campuses' Student's with Disabilities office, because I needed an accommodation of a free standing desk with a chair in each of my classrooms because I was too big to fit into any of the desks that were campus. I was able to finish my degree in three focused semesters while also working at the JCPenney call center that was located in Carmichael. I took great comfort in a job that allowed me to use my brains and intellect to good effect, but because I worked on the phone no one could judge me by my appearance. It was a good job for me, and looking back I realize that many overweight and obese people work in call centers for the very same reasons.
Graduating did indeed feel like an accomplishment but like all things, the experience was overshadowed by the difficulties that my weight was causing me. I remember the Commencement exercises at Arco Arena at the time being very challenging because we had to stand in line for some considerable time before going into the arena for the ceremony. Standing with my bad hip and size drove me to distracting pain and became sort of the preoccupying thought for me. Would I be able to be comfortable and in as little pain as possible? It became the predominate and always first thought in my head from that day forward.
In my next post I will share what life after college was like and how my weight effected me more and more as I endeavored to be part of the grown up world.
Going from a school with a total enrollment of 700+ to a college that had 25,000 enrolled students was a shock to say the least. I had some comfort of knowing the university because both my parents taught there as I was growing up. At the very least I had access to their office in the Business Building where I could hide out effectively if needed. Because my father was a full time tenured professor and my mom taught part time, they shared their office because they were never on campus at the same time. I had access to a small office with ample air conditioning, a stereo and a vast supply of diet Coke. Not a bad deal when I thought about it. In retrospect however, it was another way that I was able to stay "apart" from the rest of the student body.
While my general education classes where relatively easy because of the great education I'd received from St. Francis, I found the music school to be a bigger challenge. My musical experience was limited to singing in group ensembles, and doing most of my learning by ear. I was suddenly thrown into piano proficiency, music theory and literature classes, in addition to private voice lessons. The theory classes were much like trying to learn a foreign language as quickly as possible. Despite my earnest effort, my grades in music classes fell progressively each semester. This was turning something I loved into something I hated. It was just too hard. Most of the people in classes with me had been reading sheet music and playing instruments for years and that just wasn't my story. When I received a "D" in my third semester of lower level music theory, I knew that I was going to have to change my major if I had any hope of graduating.
Because my parent's both taught at the school, I received financial credits that allowed me to take 12 or more units for virtually no cost. I realize now, as I watch people struggle to pay for college, how very lucky I was. When I told my parents that I wanted to change my major, their response was, "Take a variety of classes," trying to make sure what I took would count for general ed credits in the end. From photography to oceanography I was lucky to be able to spend time figuring out what I wanted to study. I feel bad for kids who have to race through college as if it were a vocational school. While I understand it, I'm grateful to say that I received an education rather than just degree.
During my quest for a major, I experienced my first bought of severe depression along with really being unable to control my eating. I was telling my parents that I was going to class, all the while I was getting a great deal of fast food and then going to the underground parking garage at the Downtown Plaza mall and parking in there and eating and sleeping for the whole day. I didn't understand at the time what was happening. But I was just unable to cope with the feelings of solitude and being alone. My friends who were a class behind me at St. Francis had left for colleges outside of Sacramento, and my best friend had finally transferred to a college in southern California. Because I had not spent a great deal of energy developing relationships on campus I felt acutely alone for the first time. One of the hardest consequences for me to accept when I experienced this deep depression was the fact that by not going to classes and not dropping them from my schedule, I failed several classes and dropped a whole point in my GPA which was unrecoverable. I went from a 3.5 GPA to a 2.2 GPA in two semesters. It's like parachuting off a cliff. Climbing UP the mountain takes a great deal of time, the descent is much quicker.
The other significant event of college was the fact that I discovered that I had severe inflammatory arthritis in my left hip. I had begun to experience severe burning and pain in my left hip and wasn't sure why. I would sit in a desk in class for 50 to 120 minutes depending on the day and when I would go to stand up the pain would be so severe that I was almost unable to put weight on the joint. After finally realizing that something was wrong, I went to a rhumatologist that I'd seen during high school when I'd had a bout of inflammation in my hands, and after an X-ray and MRI I was told that I had NO cartilage in my left hip. My doctor tried to assure me that my weight was not the sole reason why this was happening but it certainly wasn't helping. When I think back I can only imagine that my weight was somewhere between 350 and 400lbs at the time. A life already difficult was made even more so because of the literal and emotional weight I was forcing myself to carry.
It took me approximately 16 months to dig myself out of my depression and to be honest my memory of that time isn't real vivid. I finally recommitted to getting back into school, declared myself a Government major because of a very enthusiastic teacher that made learning a joy. It was at this time that I also had to register with the campuses' Student's with Disabilities office, because I needed an accommodation of a free standing desk with a chair in each of my classrooms because I was too big to fit into any of the desks that were campus. I was able to finish my degree in three focused semesters while also working at the JCPenney call center that was located in Carmichael. I took great comfort in a job that allowed me to use my brains and intellect to good effect, but because I worked on the phone no one could judge me by my appearance. It was a good job for me, and looking back I realize that many overweight and obese people work in call centers for the very same reasons.
Graduating did indeed feel like an accomplishment but like all things, the experience was overshadowed by the difficulties that my weight was causing me. I remember the Commencement exercises at Arco Arena at the time being very challenging because we had to stand in line for some considerable time before going into the arena for the ceremony. Standing with my bad hip and size drove me to distracting pain and became sort of the preoccupying thought for me. Would I be able to be comfortable and in as little pain as possible? It became the predominate and always first thought in my head from that day forward.
In my next post I will share what life after college was like and how my weight effected me more and more as I endeavored to be part of the grown up world.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
You think you know, but you have NO idea.......
This post is about addresings some very interesting and specific comments that I received about my lsat post where I discussed my experience of being in high school. Before I go any further, let me first of all let me say a HUGE "Thank you!" to the people who are enthusiastically reading this blog so far and supporting me in this endeavor. I honestly did not think this would be received so well, and that people would be as interested as they have been. Of COURSE I find my own life terribly interesting (Most of the time, not really :)) but I am tickled by the interest being shown, and it reminds me that my experience can help others which is a wonderful goal.
That being said, I received several comments from people who knew me back in the day, who felt that I was perhaps not honestly reflecting on some of the less enchanting aspects of my high school life. And I think that perhaps those people were right. I didn't want to dwell on that part of my life, NOT in any attempt to necessarily gloss over what was in fact a pretty painful time for me, but because I feel like the footwork that I'm doing NOW is much more important than what I did back then. THAT BEING SAID, it may show anyone reading this blog in the future that they were not alone in being teased, feeling severely self-conscious, or being outright ignored during their high school years. So I'm going to give a few snapshots of what I experienced during my life at St. Francis.
Some of the girls that I'd gone through 8 years of grade school with tended to be the people who gave me the most difficulties. One in particular whom I won't name, had a conversation with me that I had thought was confidential and then shared that conversation with all the other girls in our group which in the end resulted in me being ostracized from the ONLY people who I knew at my brand new high school. The only motive I could come up with then or now was extreme cruelty and a desire for me to be hurt. I also remember going to the Holy Bowl (for the un-initiated that was a huge football game between the two Catholic boys schools in Sacramento which in turn was just a huge excuse for a social gathering of GARGANTUAN proportions) I remember wanting desperately to be a "part-of" and joining the mass of teenagers who were watching the game at the time and having many of the boys in the mob laughing at me and calling me names like "Cow" and "Fatty". Not one of my best moments. I never went to a mixed event again my entire high school life. And the only other experience that specifically stands out for me was an experience in drama class where I was doing improvisation with someone and during our brainstorming time they wanted me to place myself in a position to be the butt of a joke that was specifically based on my larger side. I told this class mate that I didn't want to do the skit that way, and tried to tell her "NO", but she went ahead and did it anyway. My shame and self-loathing felt like they were leaking out of my pores and I was reduced to tears in my shame and frustration. At that point, I literally think that I withdrew myself because I NEVER wanted to be responsible for placing myself in a position to be THAT HURT again.
The final experience that I remember ACUTELY was an experience where I went to public school during the summer to participate in Art and Drama classes as a way to fill the time during the summer. (My mom was not a big fan of surly slothful teenagers just hanging around the house during the summer so we were forced to make ourselves busy). During the art class we were making signs, and a group of boys make a sign with a yellow chicken on it that said, "NO FAT CHICKS", and spent the remainder of the class looking at me and laughing. After class when I tried to leave to find somewhere private to kill some time by myself in peace, I was followed around by that same group of boys who kept pestering me and asking me questions that were designed to hurt me. That made me realize that no matter HOW hard I thought it was at St. Francis, being in public school would have been BRUTAL. I learned then and there to pick my battles carefully and to build my suit of armor as well as I could.
So my high school experience was this completely weird combination of DESPERATELY wanting to belong and being liked, at almost any cost, and at the same time feeling like I had to be EXTREMELY defensive and self-protective because based on the track record I had experienced, I had good reason to believe that people would treat me differently and quite cruelly. And they'd do that based soley on my weight, without getting to know me or figuring out that I could be a pretty decent friend, if only they'd let me in.
That being said, I received several comments from people who knew me back in the day, who felt that I was perhaps not honestly reflecting on some of the less enchanting aspects of my high school life. And I think that perhaps those people were right. I didn't want to dwell on that part of my life, NOT in any attempt to necessarily gloss over what was in fact a pretty painful time for me, but because I feel like the footwork that I'm doing NOW is much more important than what I did back then. THAT BEING SAID, it may show anyone reading this blog in the future that they were not alone in being teased, feeling severely self-conscious, or being outright ignored during their high school years. So I'm going to give a few snapshots of what I experienced during my life at St. Francis.
Some of the girls that I'd gone through 8 years of grade school with tended to be the people who gave me the most difficulties. One in particular whom I won't name, had a conversation with me that I had thought was confidential and then shared that conversation with all the other girls in our group which in the end resulted in me being ostracized from the ONLY people who I knew at my brand new high school. The only motive I could come up with then or now was extreme cruelty and a desire for me to be hurt. I also remember going to the Holy Bowl (for the un-initiated that was a huge football game between the two Catholic boys schools in Sacramento which in turn was just a huge excuse for a social gathering of GARGANTUAN proportions) I remember wanting desperately to be a "part-of" and joining the mass of teenagers who were watching the game at the time and having many of the boys in the mob laughing at me and calling me names like "Cow" and "Fatty". Not one of my best moments. I never went to a mixed event again my entire high school life. And the only other experience that specifically stands out for me was an experience in drama class where I was doing improvisation with someone and during our brainstorming time they wanted me to place myself in a position to be the butt of a joke that was specifically based on my larger side. I told this class mate that I didn't want to do the skit that way, and tried to tell her "NO", but she went ahead and did it anyway. My shame and self-loathing felt like they were leaking out of my pores and I was reduced to tears in my shame and frustration. At that point, I literally think that I withdrew myself because I NEVER wanted to be responsible for placing myself in a position to be THAT HURT again.
The final experience that I remember ACUTELY was an experience where I went to public school during the summer to participate in Art and Drama classes as a way to fill the time during the summer. (My mom was not a big fan of surly slothful teenagers just hanging around the house during the summer so we were forced to make ourselves busy). During the art class we were making signs, and a group of boys make a sign with a yellow chicken on it that said, "NO FAT CHICKS", and spent the remainder of the class looking at me and laughing. After class when I tried to leave to find somewhere private to kill some time by myself in peace, I was followed around by that same group of boys who kept pestering me and asking me questions that were designed to hurt me. That made me realize that no matter HOW hard I thought it was at St. Francis, being in public school would have been BRUTAL. I learned then and there to pick my battles carefully and to build my suit of armor as well as I could.
So my high school experience was this completely weird combination of DESPERATELY wanting to belong and being liked, at almost any cost, and at the same time feeling like I had to be EXTREMELY defensive and self-protective because based on the track record I had experienced, I had good reason to believe that people would treat me differently and quite cruelly. And they'd do that based soley on my weight, without getting to know me or figuring out that I could be a pretty decent friend, if only they'd let me in.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
High School Highs & Lows
I said at the end of my last post that I would take a bit of space to discuss high school and all that went along with it. Let me clarify my intent behind this for just a moment. I DO NOT want to be the type of person who never gets over the hurts of my childhood or sits at a tender pre-menapause age bemoaning the girl in 9th grade who "did me wrong." If you ever see me drifting towards that potential geographic area please give me a SHOUT OUT and a SMACK UPSIDE THE HEAD. The interesting part of this experience is that I'm now at a place where I'm so over it and just want to move on and appreciate people from my past I may come in contact with, for the awesome women they ARE NOW, not who they were when we were 14-18yrs old. That being said, I'd be lying if I said that there aren't some feelings about my high school experience. I will glance upon them this last time, without malice.
I went to an all girls private school directly from my private grade school. The summer before I started high school I had to get uniform skirts to wear to school, along with regular clothing to wear for the first on casual days. When I went to the high school I was slightly embarrassed to find that I was so big that I needed to have my school uniform custom made. Luckily the uniform manufacturer was located in San Francisco so one mother-daughter road trip later, I was properly attired for my foray into the somewhat elite world of private girls education.
If you've ever seen the movie MEAN GIRLS, you'd have a somewhat accurate picture of what girls can be like. For me, it was basically the same except we all dress alike and had this terminally exhausted look on our faces from the perpetual academic competition that our school fostered. While I was not picked on specifically because of my weight, I was for the most part ignored by 80% of the girls in my class at St. Francis. It's my personal opinion that being invisible is almost, if not more difficult, than being the object of ridicule.
It was durning this time in my life that I started to get small clues that my size was abnormal in relation to others. There were some classes where the desks where too small, my legs and feet would fall asleep during litiguries when she had to sit on the floor of the gymnasium, and during a choir trip to Canada my junior year I was always a half a block behind everyone else because I couldn't walk as fast as everyone else. My shame and embarrassment kept me from asking for help in any significant way. It's only now that I can look back at that girl with a great deal of compassion and empathy. I wasn't so kind to myself back then.
Luckily I made friends with some girls at my school during a youth group retreat in the winter of 1990 and I remain friends with them to this day. I was able to let them get to know me outside of the school environment and it was much easier for me to be myself and not try to impress them. I also became friends with a girl in my senior year english class and we were able to laugh our way through the last semester of our high school experience. Graduation couldn't come soon enough for me on one hand, and I was also nervous and unsure on the other. Despite what I thought were my mediocre grades and lack of desire to move away from home, I was accepted into the music school of the local college and had decided to stay home to attend college.
In my next post I'll relay the fun and challenges of going to the same school where BOTH of my parents worked. Thanks for reading!
I went to an all girls private school directly from my private grade school. The summer before I started high school I had to get uniform skirts to wear to school, along with regular clothing to wear for the first on casual days. When I went to the high school I was slightly embarrassed to find that I was so big that I needed to have my school uniform custom made. Luckily the uniform manufacturer was located in San Francisco so one mother-daughter road trip later, I was properly attired for my foray into the somewhat elite world of private girls education.
If you've ever seen the movie MEAN GIRLS, you'd have a somewhat accurate picture of what girls can be like. For me, it was basically the same except we all dress alike and had this terminally exhausted look on our faces from the perpetual academic competition that our school fostered. While I was not picked on specifically because of my weight, I was for the most part ignored by 80% of the girls in my class at St. Francis. It's my personal opinion that being invisible is almost, if not more difficult, than being the object of ridicule.
It was durning this time in my life that I started to get small clues that my size was abnormal in relation to others. There were some classes where the desks where too small, my legs and feet would fall asleep during litiguries when she had to sit on the floor of the gymnasium, and during a choir trip to Canada my junior year I was always a half a block behind everyone else because I couldn't walk as fast as everyone else. My shame and embarrassment kept me from asking for help in any significant way. It's only now that I can look back at that girl with a great deal of compassion and empathy. I wasn't so kind to myself back then.
Luckily I made friends with some girls at my school during a youth group retreat in the winter of 1990 and I remain friends with them to this day. I was able to let them get to know me outside of the school environment and it was much easier for me to be myself and not try to impress them. I also became friends with a girl in my senior year english class and we were able to laugh our way through the last semester of our high school experience. Graduation couldn't come soon enough for me on one hand, and I was also nervous and unsure on the other. Despite what I thought were my mediocre grades and lack of desire to move away from home, I was accepted into the music school of the local college and had decided to stay home to attend college.
In my next post I'll relay the fun and challenges of going to the same school where BOTH of my parents worked. Thanks for reading!
Monday, May 21, 2012
Starting from the Beginning
My name is Kathy, and I'm going to start writing a blog about my experience with growing up and living for the majority of my life as a morbidly obese person, and the path I'm taking to change that. I know that there are certainly LOTS of people who have varying opinions about people who have problems with their weight. I've certainly been on the receiving end of numerous "stare downs", nasty looks, and outright giggles from well meaning people who didn't know any better to just down right mean people who can kiss my ever shrinking A$$. I'm just saying. I have surviving this experience with a growing belief in a Power Greater than myself, a HUGE SUPPORT network and a not so small sense of humor. If you can relate to ANYTHING I am sharing, great. If not, check out the other blogs out there. You will certainly find someone sharing an experience that resonates with you. This is just MY STORY. Take what you like and leave the rest.
So I was born and raised in an upper middle class suburb of Sacramento, California. I grew up in a two parent household, both my parents were very well educated and taught at the local university. I have a vivid memory of rollerskating around the 2nd floor of the Business Building at CSUS as a child. I was the lucky recipient of a private school education, including 4 years at an all girls school which I was quite grateful for my freshman year in college. I had NO problem going head to head in intellectual combat with my male students, and I thank the nuns and teachers at my high school for that.
Growing up in my home we had plenty of the material comforts that make life easier and CERTAINLY plenty of food. Both my parents were born either during or right at the end of the Great Depression and I think those feelings of scarcity were always in their minds. We ate dinner together and it always meant two things, huge portions and clean plates. I was chubby but not obese in 2nd grade. My First Communion picture bears the evidence of that truth. It was all downhill from there.
By 5th grade I think I'd officially crossed over into the clinically obese territory. I don't remember hearing at the doctor's office that I was obese, and it wasn't mentioned to me directly. Because I went to private school I did get teased a fair amount of the time by the kids in my class, with whom I spend 8 years with from first thru eighth grade. I also think this was the time when I truly started using food as a tool of comfort, not just because of the teasing at school but also because of chaos that happened at home. My parents did a great deal of their "conflict resolution" later at night and at high volumes of yelling. To this day, at the age of 37 years old I have a pathological aversion to verbal confrontation. So when my parents would go at it with the arguing and fighting and general drama making, I would often sneak food after they'd gone to bed in an attempt to comfort myself. This was a short term solution to a long term problem. By 8th grade I remember having to shop for my Confirmation dress in the Macy's Woman Section (aka, PLUS SIZE CLOTHING) at Macy's because by 8th grade I was a size 24W. Trust me when I say that the clothing options for a 13 year old young lady in the Macy's Woman section were somewhat limiting but you just have to do the best you can. And I did.
I'll begin my next post with my recollections of high school and having to have a uniform custom made for me in San Francisco.
So I was born and raised in an upper middle class suburb of Sacramento, California. I grew up in a two parent household, both my parents were very well educated and taught at the local university. I have a vivid memory of rollerskating around the 2nd floor of the Business Building at CSUS as a child. I was the lucky recipient of a private school education, including 4 years at an all girls school which I was quite grateful for my freshman year in college. I had NO problem going head to head in intellectual combat with my male students, and I thank the nuns and teachers at my high school for that.
Growing up in my home we had plenty of the material comforts that make life easier and CERTAINLY plenty of food. Both my parents were born either during or right at the end of the Great Depression and I think those feelings of scarcity were always in their minds. We ate dinner together and it always meant two things, huge portions and clean plates. I was chubby but not obese in 2nd grade. My First Communion picture bears the evidence of that truth. It was all downhill from there.
By 5th grade I think I'd officially crossed over into the clinically obese territory. I don't remember hearing at the doctor's office that I was obese, and it wasn't mentioned to me directly. Because I went to private school I did get teased a fair amount of the time by the kids in my class, with whom I spend 8 years with from first thru eighth grade. I also think this was the time when I truly started using food as a tool of comfort, not just because of the teasing at school but also because of chaos that happened at home. My parents did a great deal of their "conflict resolution" later at night and at high volumes of yelling. To this day, at the age of 37 years old I have a pathological aversion to verbal confrontation. So when my parents would go at it with the arguing and fighting and general drama making, I would often sneak food after they'd gone to bed in an attempt to comfort myself. This was a short term solution to a long term problem. By 8th grade I remember having to shop for my Confirmation dress in the Macy's Woman Section (aka, PLUS SIZE CLOTHING) at Macy's because by 8th grade I was a size 24W. Trust me when I say that the clothing options for a 13 year old young lady in the Macy's Woman section were somewhat limiting but you just have to do the best you can. And I did.
I'll begin my next post with my recollections of high school and having to have a uniform custom made for me in San Francisco.
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