For as long as I can remember I’ve been a “big girl.” Now some people may think that this self-defining term is demeaning, but to me it’s always just been a matter of fact. Along with a few close friends of my family , we had even invented our own shorthand for ourselves, jokingly calling each other BGs. Until a few years ago, I hadn’t let myself give more than a passing thought to what that term might really mean, thinking that if I claimed something as my own, accepted it about myself, then the true meaning of being a “big girl” in today’s society couldn’t hurt me. In fact, that had been my defense mechanism for most of my life. As long as I was laughing at myself, others were laughing along with me, accepting me as the funny fat girl, like I was my small town’s own Melissa McCarthy or Rebel Wilson (Only I’m not nearly that hilarious and only half as awesome).

Growing up overweight had taught me that even though I never felt as beautiful as my friends, I could be and was just as be smart, entertaining, and compelling as anyone else and that it was my job to make others see that. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t painful growing up overweight, even when it felt like my own personal joke sometimes. You see, no matter how easy it is to put on a happy face, on the inside every girl craves the chance to be beauty queen beautiful, to feel as though every head will turn when they walk into a room, I wanted that. Though anyone can tell you that my self esteem never seemed to waiver in my formative years, probably due to the big head and self inflated ego I developed from my close and wildly supportive family, there was apart of me that nagged in my subconscious that knew something just wasn’t right.

From high school to college I gained more weight and started to hide from the scale, not wanting to even acknowledge that my weight gain might be a symptom of other problems in my life, problems in relationships and with my self-confidence and image. When I hit rock bottom, the ending of a meaningful relationship and months and months of depression as lead up, I realized something. It was never my weight that was the problem. Being a big girl was just fine as long as I was happy, but the truth was, my weight was just another thing I felt like I couldn’t fix, that was outside my control, and that lack of control over my happiness was what was causing me to feel so low. I’d always self-described as the happy-go-lucky, self-assured girl who wanted to take on the world, and somewhere life and my own self-esteem robbed me of the girl I knew I was, the girl who’s inner beauty shown through any body size. But there was something else I knew, that being unhealthy and feeling uncomfortable in my clothes and unable to move and live freely in my body was holding me back. I decided that the first step to becoming a different kind of “big girl”, a grown-up girl who handled her own problems and dealt with life head on, was to work towards a body that felt more like it was mine.

So in the summer of 2013, I did just that. Months of hard work, sacrifice, slip-ups, small triumphs and steadfast determination lead to entering summer 2014, with a new -90lbs body that I finally was beginning to feel at home in. 2 years later and the confidence I have now is not just from being thinner, or feeling more attractive, but instead it is from knowing that I can set goals and meet them. I can do anything I set my mind to, and I think I always knew that, but sometimes it’s good to remind yourself what you are capable of. So that’s what I am doing now. I’m still a big girl at heart, and maybe I’ll never be the thin, ethereal beauty in magazines and on TV, but I have a strong, beautiful body that proves to me everyday that I am capable, brilliant, and constantly improving. So I am a “big” girl, with a BIG heart, BIG dreams, and even BIGGER purpose. And I’m only just getting started.