It’s a start

Mom asked to take a walk with me two nights ago. Just around our lake, which is 1,000 steps door to door.

I was proud. That’s a lot for her. 

Last night she wanted to do it again. At the end of the lap, she asked to go again. 

Doubly proud. 

I hope this is the beginning of a trend. Maybe she’s seen me lose 30 pounds and feel better, and she’s ready to do the same. 

One of these days when her pain isn’t so intense, I’ll teach her my secret. Which is to walk with purpose. 

I found I tend to burn a little more when I walk taller, suck in my gut and really walk with determination. 

Raise the knee just a shade higher. Try to take bigger steps. 

Don’t run on your tiptoes (as I’ve done all my life lest fat girl pound the pavement literally and shake the earth). 

Basically take up space and don’t shrink in terror from your surroundings. As fat girls tend to do. The less people see you, the less chance of them making fun of you. 

Now it feels like nobody is making fun of me. Maybe they are. Either I don’t notice, or I just assume they are shouting a compliment at me. 

Even though it doesn’t look like it, I’ve worked hard. I earned a compliment or two. Even if the only person to give it to me is myself. 

And by mom wanting to join me on a walk, that’s the biggest compliment of all. 

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