The saga before the saga - how do I get her back?

Even as I look at these pictures, I'm amazed, astonished and angry.

My best friend in high school was a photographer. Aspiring, yet always with the camera handy. And I was always "camera ready". Well truthfully - I wasn't, but never had the forethought that the pics would resurface. Or that I'd look so different 28 years later, that I could look at them objectively.

As a classmate of mine stated, I was beautiful, wasn't I? So fresh faced, so young, so vital. Please don't get it twisted - I wasn't vain then, nor am I vain now. If you'd asked me back then, I would've answered that I was kinda cute - but there was always cuter. I was always a geek, even back then - and my own skin fit pretty uncomfortably.

The Q & D was that I'd always been valued first for being smart, even smart enough to skip grades, attend gifted programs and special schools, and be expected to outperform my peers. I usually delivered. Only after that was I valued for being cute. And it was right around the time of this picture, 1980, that I became really uncomfortable with the geek role. And feeling some kinda way about the cute role. I wanted fierce beauty, not fluffy, bunny cute. And for me, fierce = skinny.

I know, I know...It's not like I was fat back then. But fat is so subjective and so relative. I wanted a single-digit size, like my high school friends/classmates. I'd been a chubby little girl, and a growth spurt had sent me to healthy young lady, but I wanted model thin. No booty thin. Curveless thin.

I remember summer of 1980, my best girl friend ate nothing but crackers and pickle juice because she wanted to lose weight. While I admired her resolve and her newly size 6 Calvin Klein jeans, I couldn't torture myself. I'd lose 2 lbs, and then gain it back. The fact that she looked like Barbie, her 34DD disproportionate to her newly small lower body, didn't bother me in the slightest. I wanted to weigh < 120 lbs. I wanted to wear a size 8 or less.

I thought I was fat.

And now, here I am 28, 29 years later. 100+ lbs heavier. Truly fat. Knowing how beautiful I am. I mean really - I now KNOW. But I also know that it's trapped in a body that will eventually kill me, if I don't do something about it. And I'm looking at these pictures thinking - I was so skinny back then. Sheesh.

I'm angry at myself for allowing the excuses (reasons) for getting fat & remaining fat cloud my judgement. And my eating choices. Yeah, I have reasons and they seemed good at the time, but damn - how long will I rely on these excuses to comfort me, knowing I need to handle my handle? The body I'm in isn't the body I want to ride out for the rest of my life - it's just not built for the vision I have for the rest of it. Travel, seeing the world, running, hiking, dancing, moving - all just for the sake of moving; this body isn't the one for that. It's like trying to win a race driving a charter bus.

The question (how do I get her back) is rhetorical. Eat more healthfully, exercise regularly - I know the formula. My problem is getting my mind & body on the same track, given the pain involved and time this will take. And conforming to the eating limits required.

The saga before the saga...She's still here...just have to find her.