I really wanted to share this amazing podcast about How to Lose 100 pounds with others. But, as I scrolled through my Facebook friend list, I couldn’t find a single fat person. Apparently, I’m friends with skinny people. Normal-sized people. Maybe-a-little-overweight people. And maybe even very chubby people. But not obese people. Nobody like me. Unless they’re hiding out behind ten-year-old-photos from the neck up or something and really do have a butt that can’t fit in ball-game seats at the stadium.

Granted, I didn’t search all 333 people on my friendship list to analyze full-body recent photos. So it’s possible that I have fat friends. But it’s clear that the majority of the people I enjoy interacting with are smaller and I really am the fat girl. It took me a few minutes to think about this: Does it matter? Should I care? Does it mean anything at all?

I know I experience life so differently than smaller people. And while I’m so glad they don’t have to encounter the ugly life of so much flab you can’t tie your shoes or scratch your back or see your lap, I was set to wondering: Why am I THE ONE? Where did I miss the boat? And how did they avoid this particular problem?

From my start-to-lose-weight recorded weight of 303 pounds, I’m down to 276 this week. So, I can first-hand testify that life gets easier as I get smaller. I can sit up in bed instead of heave-ho and roll to get upright. I can now tie my own shoes and put on my own socks. I can better shower and shave. And I can walk a little faster than I used to. I have dropped two pant sizes so far, and I am snoring less. I haven’t yet found one bad thing about getting smaller. So it blows my mind that I still have 100 pounds to lose. I cannot imagine how much better I will be able to make love, run, hike, or shop for beautiful and comfortable clothing that doesn’t have bright flower gardens the size of Texas on my ass.

If you’re a less-than-obese person, you’ve not had to face the scornful looks when you buy a pizza at Whole Foods. Perhaps you’ve not heard a scathing review by an educational career advisor saying, “You’re too fat. Don’t bother looking right now.” Maybe you’ve not been horrified by the experience of turning sideways to maneuver through a tight space only to realize that you are STILL FAT in that direction as well.

Now, let me be clear: I want nobody’s pity. And I blame nobody except myself for my size. I also really do not want to disgust you. But where are the truth tellers? I mean, I cannot buy into the whole, “I’m fat and I love my body this way” crap. No! It sucks to be overweight. I hate being sweaty in fat folds. I want to zip-line, white-water-raft, sky-dive, and comfortably wear a sexy black dress to a posh dinner. And the bottom line is, I cannot do those things YET. Because there are rules about weight. There are size-limits. Just as a child cannot ride the grown-up’s rollercoaster, I am not allowed to bungee jump in Iceland–or anywhere on the planet it would seem.

So back to my Facebook friend list discovery: As I looked at each face, I realized that my people are each there for a reason. And their size has absolutely nothing to do with my WHY they are special in my mind. I browsed former students, colleagues, and church people. I found family, piano students, and casual acquaintances from years past. And I found this: ~~They each reside on my page because they reflect special memories and authentic conversations. They reflect my diverse life of living in Europe, the Middle East, the Midwest, and tiny places in the Dakotas. One lady is there because I met her on a plane and we simply connected. Because she was real. Not because she was thin. In fact, I don’t remember: Was she big or was she small?

So, no…I no longer desire to share the awesome podcast I found with those who don’t need it on my friend’s list, but I have had an awakening. A glimpse into the reality that although I may have self-obsessed about losing weight and improving my health (and that’s all good stuff there) for the past 30 years, it’s likely that others don’t think about me in those terms nearly as much as I’ve thought they did. It’s very likely that when they “see” me, they see my character and mind more than my plus-sized thighs. And that thought makes me smile.