Eventual Clarity

Tonight, I ran into an old friend of mine from the first year I lived in Nashville. Whenever I run into someone I haven't seen in awhile, I kind of clench up. Immediately, I run a mental assessment to determine if I was thinner or heavier the last time I saw the person. I then wait for the inevitable head-to-toe scan, followed by a possible question regarding how much weight I've lost.

But tonight was different, Hannah just looked me right in the eye and told me I looked well. This was especially remarkable given the fact that the last time Hannah saw me, I was sizes smaller. Of course, I was subsisting on a diet of black coffee and Special K cereal, but I digress. We decided to meet later in the evening for drinks, as Hannah happened to already have plans with a few acquaintances from our college days. For the next three hours, I hemmed and hawed on whether or not I would show up. Reunions are not necessarily my forte, unless I know the guest list and all possible escape routes ahead of time. But I went. Reluctantly.

I could run through the events and conversation of the evening, but ultimately, here is what I came away with after spending a couple hours with old friends.

1. No one is paying as close attention to my weight fluctuations as I am. And if they are, they are brilliant, Oscar-worthy actors.
2. Sometimes being in a serious relationship hinders one's ability to socialize effectively. I was engaged for a portion of my first year in Nashville, and I spent a lot of time holed-up in my apartment, gushing to my then-fiancee. I missed out on meeting some really genuine and warm people.
3. I allow myself to hide behind the issues I have with my weight. I convince myself that people aren't going to like me because of the way I look. Although this often keeps me from being hurt, it more frequently prevents me from getting to know really amazing people.
4. Every evening should end with an ale.

All of this is to say that I hate how much life I've missed out on, staying wrapped in this little cocoon I've created for myself. I haven't the faintest clue how to get out of it, but I'm willing to try. So even if this resolve only lasts for the next day, I find some hope in the fact that I am recognizing these parts of myself. Isn't acceptance the first step?

I wish that, I knew what I know now
When I was younger...