Just past 9pm, class was dismissed. Minutes later, goodbyes and fist-bumps exchanged, I took step towards the doors of Strand Agriculture Hall located just down a few feet of stairs. I look forth to see the bordering panes of aged glass around the exit of this dated building. The absence of sunlight blackened the windows looking out, leaving just the glossy appearance from reflections of the floor and walls. It was only as I approached did I turn my vision from the rubber slip-guarded steps to the pane of glass that harbored directly in front of me. And in the instant my eyes set forth and caught focus, I was taken aghast by my apparent twin in reflection. My mind instantly pulsed with remembrances of my image time ago – the days I have subconsciously forgotten – the days that I will never allow to return.

From the glass, the reflection I mistakenly viewed weighed in at 223 pounds, wore a lint-balled, black zip-up sweatshirt, and size-38 blue jeans that were both too big and too small at the same time. The rear of these pants was always baggy and loose, though, my large legs would fill the rest of the jeans quite considerably. It was a miserable battle as I would be seated and my thighs looked like rolling waves in the ocean, cling wrapped by denim – the seams of the pants became pressed to their max, and the line of embroidery appeared like a row of rivets on an airplane’s fuselage. Standing and walking, the jeans assumed a role similar to wearing a potato sack. With each stride, my colossal thighs would brush together, the texture of denim striking itself, sounding a sort of wisping and zipping blend of noises. The self-consciousness of such audible movements mentally beat me down. When I would look in the mirror, my sides would bow out after the hips and the side pockets would poke outwards with no more space left to reside. Then, one day the front button just seemed a bit harder to hook, and my envy in the appearance of others became unbearable. This was the last straw.

I’ve lived so much of my life in shame behind this damn fat – it’s over! My mental health was consistently in shambles as I endured this evil cast upon me day-after-day. I never went one moment without the feeling of sadness and disappointment. I am above that now, and life is very good. Sixty pounds later, I am never going back, for the glass and the jeans marked the last time being that twin on the outside looking in.