I was thinking about all the diets and supplements and programs I’ve been on the other day…sort of a sadistic trip down Bad Memory Lane. I was listing them all in my head. Weight Watchers, Biggest Loser challenge at work, Fen Phen (or however the hell you spell it), Meridia, Metabolife…you name it.

But, just like a sweaty tryst on prom night, you never forget your first – and my first was the Scarsdale Diet. Even now, just the name sends images of lean hamburger patties and cottage cheese dancing through my head. But I was fat and I needed to be on a diet. In fact, by the time I went on the Scarsdale Diet I had been hounded about being a big fat fatty for 3 years already.

I was 13 years old.

I’m not sure which is fatter…the pointy elbows…the collar bone…the single chin…the flat tummy…it’s really kind of a toss up, isn’t it? What a porker. Obviously, I needed to be put on a diet before things spiraled out of control. I think we can all agree on that, right?

If only I had been successful in losing all the weight when I was 13, I’d never have been such a huge fatty in high school.

It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Look at this girl and call her fat. I dare you.

Okay, maybe I could have lost 5 pounds if I’d tweezed those caterpillar eyebrows – but other than that, there’s no weight to be lost here. By the time this picture was taken, I was a seasoned dieter with years of experience. If you have a daughter, granddaughter, niece, aunt, or second cousin twice removed who’s a teenager would you do me a favor? Walk away from the computer, put down the smart phone, and go give her a hug right now. Tell her she’s beautiful just the way she is. Inside and out. Right. Now.

It’s taken me a lifetime to not look back at these pictures with anger. A little sad maybe, sure. I think that’s normal. But it doesn’t own me. It doesn’t control me. And, most importantly, there isn’t a smidge of my brain, my heart, or my soul that believes for a second now that I was fat or that I deserved to be treated that way. God gives us obstacles. This was mine.

When I hear someone lamenting the loss of their youth, I just smile and think to myself “Why on Earth would I ever want to go back and be that frightened, intimidated kid again?”  No, thank you. Much of my youth was spent dieting for no reason.

Today, I actually am as fat as I felt I was back then…and I wouldn’t trade the me I am today for 1,000 scared little Diannes. I wouldn’t. I’m grateful for me. All of me. Warts, cellulite, moles and all.

But I am glad I learned how to trim my fucking eyebrows. 🙂