|Me, at around my "take a fork|
and feast at the dump" stage
When I was 15, I'd had enough. Enough of having the Jeff Abbots of the world tell me to get my "lard ass" off his Mustang. Enough of being the girl who winds up alone while her friends find dates. Enough of wearing shapeless, ugly clothing and being called names like "garbage gut" and "fat-ass." I stopped eating. Just stopped. Told myself I had six months to get thin or end myself. I dropped 135 lbs in six months.
|Me, at 17|
|Again at 17|
|28 years old, after the second big weight loss|
|Note the "please don't |
take my picture" expression.
|21 or 22 years old, with 2nd husband|
When I was 18, my first husband rode me about my weight--see, I'd gained enough weight to go from a size ONE to a size THREE, and, as far as he was concerned, that made me a tub of lard, and he never let me forget it.
My second husband?
|Close to my heaviest, 2010 or so|
|2012, but about 30 lbs down from now.|