I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but somehow getting on the ancient desktop in my parents' computer room and starting up a scanner, then waiting ages for the scanning interface to load onto the computer and etc etc just seemed too daunting most days.

However, NOT TODAY!

Let's cut straight to the chase. I used to be fat. I may have been a chubster as a kid, and people would always tell me that I wasn't fat, just a little bigger (good thing I was tall, I guess), but by the time I hit my later teen years I was fat. In fact, I was medically obese with a BMI of 33.7. (The National Heart Lung and Blood Institute states that a BMI of 30 or greater constitutes obesity.) I'm not going to get into the emotional implications of all that, because today is all about photographic evidence.

Witness my eight-year-old self, in front of a KFC in Taiwan.

Note adorable little brother. He was such a monkey. A cute monkey though. Maybe one day I'll dedicate another post to pictures of him as a small child.

Also, I found this picture and just thought it was funny. My older brother took this because he thought he should commemorate my notorious 'angry look':

Let's fast forward eight years. I was a junior in high school. Although from eight to sixteen I always thought I was fat, when I look back on pictures of late middle school and early high school I look pretty normal. In comparison to the skinny chicks I went to school with though, I felt like a heifer. By later high school, though, it started to balloon.

Prom was a nightmare both years, from finding a dress to finding a date. (I asked 7 guys to junior prom and 10 to senior prom before anyone said yes. I'm not exaggerating)

At this point, I obviously knew that I was big, but I suppose it just seemed past remedy. This was just me. One day someone would see past my size and love me for the passionate, silly, articulate girl I was inside.

That's me topping out at 215 pounds, freshman year in college. By the end of the school year I was growing out of my size 18 jeans and realizing that I needed to do something about my weight, if for no other reason than a wider range of shopping possibilities. (Not kidding) So I started running every day and eating less. Spending most of my summer outside at day camp with 20 eight-year-olds probably helped, too - I lost 50 pounds in six months.

That was at age 18. Seven years later, I've fluctuated quite a bit, though never come close to breaking 200 pounds again. I'm currently at an all-time adult life low and feeling mostly all right, eating well and with the most healthy outlook on food in a very long time, and my BMI is a 23.8. I'm pretty sure it's not skewed by muscle mass because let me tell you, I'm a total wuss.

Me now. I've come a long way and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm pretty proud of myself.