Losing a lot of weight was no easy task. But I did it over some number of years. I did it. I really did it! Now, weight maintenance is no easy thing. It isn't hard all of the time. But I do have to watch it, because I eat too much on the weekends. I don’t know what it is about the weekends. It’s like I’m celebrating, celebrating that the workweek is over. At least, this is what I tell myself.

When I stop and think about it, really stop to think, I know it’s not a celebration. It’s anything but. It’s because I don’t feel big enough, feel accomplished enough, don’t feel good enough about myself. Now you’d never think this, if you looked at me. To everyone looking in, I’ve made a success out of my life. I am raising my family well, have a terrific job that pays well—and so far the job has been economic-decline proof—a good stable marriage, and lots of other signs of solid accomplishment. I shouldn’t expect more; but I do. I still see what I’m not, just like I’ve done my whole life.

I can trace this “I’m not good enough” view of myself back to primary school when, even though I was top—that’s top with a capital “t”—in my class, I still had to perform and show off. I had to have everyone admire me. My feats in high school were never good enough, despite the fact that they were damn good for anyone, even the best of students. For me, it was always what I wasn’t. Not smart enough, not good looking enough, not athletic enough, not musical enough, not socially acceptable enough, not right enough in any way. Looking in at me in primary school and secondary school, you never would think this about me.

Here’s the punch line. You still can’t tell by looking in at me. If you take a good look, you see a woman who is at a damn good weight, slim and trim, thin enough—like this slim thin woman has no weight issues. If you’d known me when I was really heavy, you’d say, “wow, she did it, she lost a lot of weight and kept it off…for years". But, on the weekends, I can’t keep maintaining weight that I lost, even though it’s just a few pounds each weekend. I’m still fighting the good fight about not being big enough, good enough, and so I take more—more food to fill me out in the secret—from everyone else—place where I don’t feel filled out enough. I wonder how may women go through this. I can’t be the only one.....

— Cynthia