A couple of years later, Matt and I decided to move to Waco from Oregon. We had gotten married in Oregon and started our married life in Oregon, but I was born in Waco, had lived here most of my life, and I wanted to be closer to my mom after the death of my dad. We lived in a rental home in a Waco suburb for the first year, and then we bought our condo right by the campus of Baylor University. And along with a college campus comes the convenience of just about every fast food restaurant imaginable. We were there for seven years, surrounded by cheap (at the time), convenient food and drinks (namely, Dr. Pepper), and we took full advantage of it. And as you can imagine, my weight ballooned out of control.
I don’t even have many pictures of me at my heaviest because I would avoid the camera at all costs. And if someone did happen to take a picture of me, I wouldn’t look at it. I took every measure to avoid the reality. I can’t even bring myself to tell you how much I weighed at my heaviest. It’s a number that seems unfathomable to me now. It’s a number that I can’t even bring myself to say to my mom or my closest friends. I struggle to say it even to Matt, although he knows. He lived it with me. It’s a number that should never be associated with a woman who’s only five feet tall. So for now, it’s a number that resides only in my head. Maybe when I reach the end of this journey, I’ll be able to bring myself to say/write the number.
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