Day 1

I have always had a weight problem. It's no secret. It's not like I could do a great job at hiding it anyway. I was the typical "chubby" kid in school. Laughed at, teased, mocked and made a fool of. Adults are cruel, but kids are honest...brutally honest at times. One of the first fat-kid memories that I have was having to wear my mom's jeans to school because I was too big for kids sizes and too small for adult sizes. I hated shopping for clothes from the very beginning. It never felt good. Nothing ever fit or looked good on me...that is how I felt. I always wanted to look like the popular girls in school...tall, slender, blond. I was none of those things. Short, chubby, brunette...yeah...not the Barbie was I. I can tell you that I love food, like everyone. Do I over-eat at times? Of course I do. Everyone does from time to time. It all started when I was a kid, I think. My parents were part of the Clean Plate Club. Although they made our plates, we had to finish what was on them. No wasting in our house.Money wasn't easily made and feeding a large household on a tight budget was hard. Cheese was my downfall. I loved it. My dad used to say I could eat an entire brick if they let me...im not so sure about that. It didn't help that my mom was the best cook ever. She always made her food with love. I mean that too. She still does. While I'm the type to throw something together, she takes her time and treats each ingredient like gold. She carefully cuts onions so that they are all the same size and nothing gets left behind. In fact, if I were food...i would want to be handled and cooked by my mom. She could turn a potato into a Thanksgiving day feast. Hot dogs...no one could stuff them like my mom. Nothing like creamy, buttery bites of mashed perfection with melted cheese on top...and I am not a hot dog fan. My momma could get me to eat anything. Well, just about anything. I always had to try it first. My dislikes are simple...no fish. Nothing from the water. If it swims, it stays away from my palate. If it is sugary mushed up fruit...aka Jelly or Jam...it didn't go in my mouth either. My version of PB&J was PB and butter or PB and syrup...no jelly no jam. For a kid, I was pretty easy to please; just top it with cheese. :)

As I get better at this blogging thing, I promise to include more experiences and feelings. I am not a seasoned writer nor am I a fabulous one. I hope my sharing helps me and maybe someone else along the way. Until next time...God Bless.
Malisa