My history of my body, Part 2

I first noticed my body creeping to places that made me comfortable the year I taught high school. I was living in my first apartment, earning next to nothing in a job that I didn't enjoy, my family had moved away, I was in a relationship that was frustrating at best. I don't remembering cooking, just grabbing food that was ready-to-eat.

I noticed certain clothes getting tighter, and it wasn't just because it was a certain time of the month. Even before that year, my weight always fluctuated, maybe 5-10 pounds in each direction, but now it stayed on the high side and went a bit higher.

I've always gained weight fairly slowly (the better side of losing slowly as well). The problem with that is that it is easy to not notice the creeping upward. I just avoided certain clothes, and I could fool myself. The school year ended, I quit the job, and planned to move to the Philadelphia area to be with my parents. I have this one distinct memory of my body at that time: before I left for the east coast, I went to a party at a college friend's place. The weather had turned warm, and I looked forward to wearing some of my cute summer clothes. And most of it didn't really fit me. I still remember what I wore, 30 years later, hoping no one would notice my extra weight.

I left for a new life a couple of days later, my Honda Civic packed to the gills. My roommate dug out a narrow tunnel so I'd have a minimal view via my rearview mirror. I drove the 500 miles with no air conditioning, crying most of the way. I was leaving behind friends, family, the streets I knew so well. I didn't love Toledo, I never did, but this was into the unknown. I didn't have a job, I didn't even know what I wanted to do (I had decided that teaching high school was not for me), I was living with my parents again, in a town that I had visited only a few times. What was going to happen?

Living with my parents gave me a better diet, and boredom forced walks through the neighborhood and local mall. After a month or so, I got a job after working in a pilot plant. The pilot plant required hauling pounds of chemicals and climbing all over equipment. One of my coworkers with had been a fat kid, and he forced us to go on walks at lunch. I got back to my fighting weight.

When I got my next job (better money, closer to home, cleaner), I was in decent shape but self-critical of my slight belly and thick legs. I know now that I should have learned to accept this and love my body. Instead I felt it simply wasn't good enough.