A Realization

Yesterday, my mom brought me over a copy of an old photo.  My heart sank. The flashbacks started flickering through my mind.

I think you don't really see yourself until you see yourself in a photo.  Photos don't lie.  They don't hide or hinder things.  They show things for face value.  In photos, you see yourself as the world sees you.

The Kristen in the photo faced a cruel reality that couldn't be ignored.

And this reality still remains.

I have been a giant all of my life.

 1986

Here I am at 14.5  years of age.  See how mammoth I appear amongst my fellow cheerleaders?  This was the summer before 9th grade.  I had made the cheer squad and went up to USU for cheer camp.  I was in away-from-home-on-my-own-with-only-my-cool-sister-in-law-as-a-chaperone heaven!  I remember loving the cafeteria food because I could eat sugar cereal every morning.  Sugar cereal for breakfast was unheard of at my house growing up. Occasionally, my mom would give into our pleading and buy a box of fructose engorged Fruity Pebbles, but the stipulation was that it was only for an afternoon snack.  My brother Scot and I would wolf the whole box down in one sitting and that would be it for a while.

I know, such a deprived childhood.

I also remember trying to not be too bothered that, as the giant of the group, I was always on the bottom of the pyramids or the one on the bottom row of the stunts.  I understood that logistically there was no way that my 80 lbs. teammates could hold my behemoth body, but to a developing 14 year old, it still bugs.  I was even taller than my sis-in-law, Carene (8 years older and next to me in the picture).  

{I think she's smiling at me and laughing at my fluffy 80's hairdo.  Look at those side wings. Now that is H-O-T!  Or maybe she's chuckling at JoLynn's poodle puff (far right).  And look at our fancy white Keds that are accentuating our highly sun-kissed legs.  I currently have plenty of wrinkles thanks to those years of baby oil tanning.}

Don't think that I have height dysmorphic disorder.  At 5' 9" tall, I know that I truly am not that gargantuan.  The problem lies in my choice of friends.  I never had friends my height.  (I take that back; I only had one friend my height and that was Lynette.)  All the rest of my friends were itty bitty, petite, pocket sized pals who wore size nothings and tipped the scales in only double digits. It was this way through elementary school, jr. high, high school, and college.

Even now.   Remember this?

2009

Even my adopted sisterhood is made up of little people.

I'm as tall as Briar Fox and he's not even real.  

Don't get me wrong.  I don't mind being tall, but when your closest friend is miniature you feel colossal!  Yes, I think I have a colossal complex.

Good thing I'm married to a therapist.