I was 22 when I discovered my collarbones. 

Let me back up. I’m sure I always had collarbones. In fact, I know I did. But they were never visible. I remember being 7 and sitting on the bus going to school when Erica Henry walked on and I noticed her collarbones jutting out as she stooped to take her seat. I was fascinated and couldn’t wait to get home to see if mine popped out delicately like hers did. I stood in front of the mirror and basically had to do “tree neck” (jutting my head forward so all my veins popped out) and throw my shoulders forward just to FEEL the bones underneath. 

I was a chubby kid and it snowballed until I wound up 235lbs. in high school, about to head off to college. I was resigned to the fact that I was just a Big Girl. I would always be the large, jolly one (I am nothing if not dependably stereotypical at times. See my college years as a sorority girl dancing on a pool table.) In my mind, two bowls of cereal were totally adequate for breakfast. Two big macs were fine too, as long as I sacrificed fries. Food was an emotional thing for me - something to reward myself and comfort myself. I had several friends, I was involved in school and I didn’t think my relationship with food was troubling in the slightest. I accepting being big. I didn’t think there was anything in my power to change it. 

Then I discovered alcohol. 

I went away to school where I ate the same things as my floormates - the pizzas at 3AM and the pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the C-store. But I also discovered the cathartic effect of 1.5 bottles of Boone’s Farm. I joke that I started to drink my feelings as opposed to eat them, but in truth I think I found a new substitute with which to reward myself and (quite literally) drown my sorrows. 

I lost 20lbs my freshman year in college, just when everyone else was packing on the Freshman Fifteen. I was delighted and toyed with the idea of losing more, so I started to do Weight Watchers Online. By my sophomore year, I was down ten more. I wasn’t terribly dedicated - I never tracked my alcohol intake. My rationale for this was that I was drinking it and that it the calories didn’t count. This is probably why it took me so long to lose weight. 

By the time Katrina hit New Orleans, I was ten pounds away from no longer being considered “overweight.” When Katrina hit, I relocated to Lafayette and lived with my best friend. We were both super involved in student life at Loyola, so we didn’t know what to do with ourselves in Lafayette. We each got 2 jobs and went to school full time at UL (where I met my future husband, who sat 3 chairs down from me in a creative writing class). We had discovered pilates the summer before Katrina, so to kill time in Lafayette, we did pilates. Her mother made dinner every night from Weight Watcher recipes. 

On the morning of my 22nd birthday, I was walking in my bathroom and passed the mirror when something sharp caught my eye and stopped me cold. I was wearing jeans and a v-neck shirt and peeking out from the top of my shirt were two delicate curves cresting the collar of my shirt, like small waves under my skin. My collarbones. I stood in front of the mirror and ran my hands over the smooth skin pulled taut over the bones popping out. They weren’t jutting out or insanely noticeable, but they were there without any shoulder-throwing or “tree necking” from me. I stood straight and the remained. I pulled my shoulders back, and they were still there. 

I finally had collarbones after 15 years. It was absurdly one of my proudest moments in my life. I went on to lose about 12 more pounds after that - all 12 which I put back on in the past 3 years. But now I’m at the weight I was when I first found my collarbones. I still check them out in the mirror - still mystified by them. I had resigned myself to being a Big Girl. I replaced one vice with another. Somehow I changed a future I was so certain about. I wear my collarbones like a badge and a reminder. A badge of the accomplishment that I achieved over 4 years when most people are gaining weight. A reminder that anything is possible and nothing is set in stone.