5th grade...Began to develop a certain resentment toward my mother for not letting me shave my legs, though it was time. In my earliest act of rebellion I used my mother's razor then proceeded to cover my legs in her Revlon Liquid Foundation to appear as hairless and tan as Jill Miller, the most popular girl in fifth grade. I went on a class field trip to an amusement park and received a just punishment when the water attractions turned my white Keds the color of my mom's made-up face.
Age 11...Started my period at science camp. I hid it from every living soul, especially my mother for an entire year knowing full well she would announce the horrifying news to relatives.
A year later...Weary of stealing supplies from my mom, I made the announcement to her pretending it was happening for the first time. She told me I was a woman now and took me to a restaurant called The Good Earth then proceeded to share personal stories that I was uncomfortable hearing. I had the Chicken Cashew Salad.
7th grade...Boys were finally taller than me. A weird patch of eczema below my left nostril finally cleared up. I figured out there were much better methods of styling my naturally curly fro than cutting it as short as possible. Exclamation Perfume, teal eyeliner, a scrunchie on my wrist and silver hoop earrings evoked a newfound confidence.
That same year...shared an embarrassing first kiss with a boy through a chain link fence. I knew as much to close my eyes then I puckered up. He however approached the situation with mouth wide open and tongue out. He cut my chin with his braces.
Even later that same year...I was suspended for making out with the same boy. Practice (due to low self esteem and lack of healthy father-figure) makes perfect! The principal at my Christian private school explained that I was cheating on my future husband and that if I kept it up Mr. Future Husband would always be secretly disappointed in what little I reserved for him and would think of nothing else every time we kissed. This boy remained a friend through high school…I was his Winnie Cooper and he was my Kevin Arnold.
Age 15...First cyst was diagnosed…read The Exception for all the sorted details.
Age 17...Did what I promised I would never do, then he promptly cheated on me. My youth pastor was right, broken hymen before marriage=broken heart.
Senior Year...Went on independent studies so that I could get a full time job, before my father's child support would end on my 18th birthday. Graduated 6 months early and began a lucrative career as a cashier at a Rite Aid drugstore.
Age 19...Married my manager at Rite Aid…eeew not a creepy old man or anything…he was a 21 year old college student and up until that point in my life the most mild mannered and responsible person I had ever met under the age of 67. He thoroughly enjoyed taking care of me and assisting me in the great escape from my family. After I failed to find a birth control pill that didn't make me sick, I wouldn't use any form of birth control for the next 7 years and would never conceive...I didn't want to conceive.
Age 21...Reached an all time high weight of 209lbs…I gained almost 90lbs in less than 2 years. All of my attempts to lose weight failed…I felt as if something else was suddenly in control of my body. My husband began working as a civil engineer and we were the first of our friend's to buy a home…As I became swallowed up by suburbia I was never interested in keeping up with the Joneses. As others my age were off at college I became obsessed with being the Joneses. I began to avoid all interactions with my family and lost touch with everyone who might compare me to the thin captain of the cheerleading squad/homecoming princess I was only a few years earlier.
Age 23...Moved to Boise, built a beautiful home sharing a neighborhood with people twice my age. The boredom, discontentment and depression began to set in.
Age 24...Hired a personal trainer. I worked out with a trainer 5 days a week for 6 months and gained 6 pounds...I love it when you gain weight from working out with the intension of weight loss and people try to encourage you by saying things like..."muscle weighs more that fat". That sounds neat but, where the hell is this muscle...hiding under all the fat that still remains? I wasn't wearing a size 16 because I was buff.
Age 25...ten years after my first cyst a doctor finally diagnosed me with polycystic ovarian syndrome. She showed me the connection between PCOS, rapid weight gain and infertility.
Age 26...I woke up one morning with a deep desire to change everything about my life. I was completely unsatisfied with everything in my world. I convinced myself I had been robbed, I had missed out. The truth was that I was selfish and giving up didn't feeling like giving up…it felt daring and exciting. My doctor told me about a new pill, Yaz, that would especially help a woman with PCOS. Within 2 months of taking my first pill the cysts stopped and for the first time in my life I got one 3-4 day period at the same time every month. I felt as if I was beginning to gain back control over my body. To escape a marriage that felt like the biggest anchor attached to a life I was beginning to hate, I would go on 2 hour walks sometimes twice a day. My days consisted of walking, working, sleeping. When I would walk I would imagine a different life, with different people, different men. When I started walking I was 209lbs and it was painful to carry, but in addition to birth control I was only leaving time for simple low calorie snacks when I needed them...after a slow first month and a half I began losing weight at an astonishing 0.5lbs a day. As the weight came off my exercise regime became more intense and more addictive. In the midst of all of this I separated then quickly divorced my husband while burning every bridge in my life. My attempt to start over began a life full of distractions from loneliness. My days consisted of intense workouts, working at a job I cared nothing about, maintaining shallow meaningless connections via social networking and texting, then bar hopping alone. That year my only Christmas card was from Boise City Taxi.
Age 27...Got a job with the Department of Defense working at a military rec center...we're not talking about ping pong tables in a converted warehouse...this was a 5 star ski resort in the Bavarian Alps. I worked and dormed with about 300 other young adventurous Americans...most of them younger than me, all escaping from something, all looking the other way, because they didn't want to ever be asked to stop their own bad behavior. I began seeing a much younger bellman at the resort...It seemed like the perfect thing to do at this point of my quarter-life crisis, almost cliche really. We had many adventures, broke up, 3 days later I found out I was pregnant.
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