I started seeing this woman everywhere. And wouldn't you know? Everywhere she went, she brought her legs with her. At the supermarket, she showed them off in jeans that actually slimmed her (the nerve!). At the library, she breezed in and breezed out on stylish heels (the bravado!). In the park she crossed her legs and let her foot dangle like a ballerina (grr!). In a few short weeks, I went from having never noticed this woman to knowing that her legs—and therefore, her life—outshined mine in every way.
Regardless of my college education, my life experience, my gifts, my talents, and my knowledge that I am a child of God; I would sell my soul, raffle off my children, and trade in my car to be thin. Sad? Yes. Pathetic? Maybe. But I'm not alone. The diet industry is not a little known secret a handful of people have heard of in passing. It is a multi-billion dollar behemoth wreaking havoc on our lives. It has somehow convinced otherwise sane, fabulous women that true happiness can only be measured by calorie intake. Sadly, being a consumer of products and promises to make me look better, I have become my own worst enemy.
Then, one fateful evening, we ended up at the same child's birthday party, and it was almost too much to handle. Walking into this party and seeing this beautiful woman was one of the most painful moments of my adult life. (I know how shallow that makes me sound.)