Betty placed her bag on it.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’re saving this one.”
“For who?” I asked.
“We’re saving this one.”
She looked at my tray, then at me.
“Someone who only needs one chair.”
Everyone around her laughed.
So did I because my only other option was to cry.
***
After graduation, I realized I couldn’t keep living that way.
Everyone around her laughed.
At first, I thought losing weight would solve everything. Then I learned that a smaller body didn’t automatically give you a louder voice.
The change took years.
I learned to cook differently, started walking after work, and eventually joined a gym.
At first, I barely made it around the block, and I assumed everyone was watching me.
Most people weren’t.
I thought losing weight would solve everything.
Slowly, I stopped seeing myself through old eyes.
By 28, I’d lost 150 pounds.
But the bigger change had nothing to do with a scale.
I’d learned to say no.
I’d learned to ask questions when something felt wrong.
I’d learned that confidence wasn’t walking into a room without fear. It was walking in while fear came with you.
