On being “normal”

My cousin Peter sent me this picture recently. I’m the kid in the middle with long socks. Clementine, who is just about to be 18, says “you looked so normal.” I think she means I’m dressed like a normal person, this could be her greatest current criticism of me today, the manner with which I clothe myself.

I hear something different though, because I too see a totally normal kid. This was the beginning of my self loathing, this was the beginning of being put on diets.

I’m at a bit of a loss, because I do not see a kid that needed to be put on a diet. While I am possibly slightly thicker than my cousins, I wouldn’t suggest a diet for that kid. I hold no animosity towards my parents or grandparents, I believe that they acted with me out of love and concern… But this is a tough picture to digest, because while I appear to be so happy, my memories from childhood are overwhelmingly of feeling out of place and uncomfortable in my own skin due to my fatness.

Perhaps this is a picture of one of my childhood dietary milestones or successes. I remember loving my cousins, but I have no memory of being a “normal” kid.