The Love of my Life

I went to Starbucks today. I adore Starbucks. I rarely go since making my life change. Every now and then I sneak in for a Grande Earl Gray. Today I felt like celebrating the week, so I partook in a Grande Soy Caramel Mochita (Yummy!). It was quiet for an early afternoon at the Starbucks around the corner from my apartment. The unusual stillness of the Starbucks allowed me an opportunity to chat it up with the Barista; an early twenty-something with soft brown hair swept up in a messy bun, chocolate pieces falling into her face. She sighed as we discussed love. It started rather innocently with her saying, “I wish I could find a guy that wasn’t so full of himself.” I made a joke generalizing my male counterparts (sorry boys). Then I followed up with the cliché, “you’ll find him, when you least expect it.” He hazel eyes squinted as she grimaced. “I know. I hated it when people said that to me and now I am one of those people,” I offered comfort.




She laughed. We spoke for several minutes as I told her about how I found love in the last eleven months. How ironic that during this journey of self-discovery; of evolution, I fell in love. As I stood their sipping on my iced latte, I thought of the love in my life. I thought of my amazing friends. I thought of my best friend Alicia, that was always cheerleading me. I thought of my family. I thought of my grandfather who always told me how beautiful I was. I thought of my boyfriend, Liam, who loved me before I started this journey and continues to do so. I started seeing Liam right before I went on this journey. He, like my friends and family, has given me nothing but support and love.



As I left Starbucks “You’re nobody ‘til somebody loves you” started playing. I paused. The lyrics triggered so many thoughts about love, growing up as a Fat Guy, and my journey during the last eleven months. Love. Relationships. They play such a pivotal role in all of our development. They shape us. They destroy us. We hunger for them. As a plus size adolescent love appeared to be an elusive oasis in the dessert. I thirsted for it like water. I longed for a boy to see me and not the layers of flesh that hung from my skeleton. Of course, like so many that thirst for something that feels like it will never come I soon started to hate what I once desired. The idea of love felt outdated. It felt empty. I didn’t want it to play any role in my life. I wanted nothing to do with the business.



They say, “It’s better to have loved, then never to have loved at all.” What idiots. That was my perception. Love felt like an invitation for heartache. Growing up as a Fat Guy I was all too accustomed to heartache. So, at the age of sixteen I made a decision that I would have no part in it. I would not love. That was fine with me. Of course, really I was shielding myself from disappointment. After all if we expect nothing, then we are never let down.



However, my scorned adolescent logic was completely flawed. The song is, “You’re not somebody, ‘til somebody loves you.” I would argue that you’re nobody ‘til you love somebody. That somebody is you. The love I desired had nothing to do with the idea of somebody being there for me. It had everything to do with me loving myself. After all if I didn’t love myself, then who would love me? I realize this is a cliché central post, but alas it is my truth. As a teenager I didn’t love myself. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I hated the way I felt. I hated how others treated me. I hated being fat. I hated me. This hate caused me to treat myself poorly. I was in an abusive relationship with someone that did not love me; me.



The abuse I inflicted on myself was the unhealthy food I chose to eat. The layers of weight, inability to walk a mile without getting tired, and sweat that poured down as I climbed a flight of stairs were the bruises of my abuse. I didn’t love myself. I longed for love. I longed for something I had in my power to give all along. When I chose to live differently I was finally breaking the cycle of abuse in the most important relationship we’ll ever have; the one with ourselves. Being healthy is embracing love. Each day that I work out is like receiving a dozen roses from a lover. The healthy meals I prepare are like romantic dates. I now love myself. This journey has brought me love. Not just the love one would think. It wasn’t about a boy. It wasn’t about my friends. It wasn’t about my family. Although, I am grateful for the love and support from the people I truly care about and who care about me, the most important love I have experienced in the last eleven months is the love for me. I now love my body. I love how I feel. I love me.