The Space I Was Never Supposed to Take Up

Sometimes I think about how much time I wasted in high school worrying about my body.

Not taking care of it.

Not appreciating it.

Not celebrating it.

Worrying about it.

I spent so much energy trying to figure out how to be smaller.

How to sit smaller.

How to dress smaller.

How to eat smaller.

How to exist smaller.

Every school dance, every class photo, every club activity, every trip out with friends seemed to come with the same underlying question:

How can I make people notice my body less?

It's heartbreaking when I think about it now.

Because while I was busy worrying about how much space I occupied, life was happening around me.

Friendships were being formed.

Memories were being made.

Opportunities were presenting themselves.

And I was often too focused on shrinking myself to fully enjoy them.

I remember analyzing every outfit.

Wondering if my shirt was loose enough.

Wondering if my arms looked too big.

Wondering if my stomach showed when I sat down.

Wondering what people thought when I walked into a room.

The truth is, I gave other people's opinions far more power than they deserved.

Most of the people I was worried about probably weren't thinking about my body at all.

They were worried about their own.

Because that's what being a teenager is.

A room full of people convinced everyone else is paying attention to them.

Looking back, I wish I could sit next to high school me and tell her a few things.

I would tell her that her body is not the most interesting thing about her.

I would tell her that the people who matter are paying attention to her kindness, her humor, her intelligence, and her heart.

I would tell her to wear the outfit.

Take the picture.

Join the activity.

Raise her hand in class.

Stop waiting to feel worthy before participating in her own life.

Most importantly, I would tell her that taking up space is not a character flaw.

Because somewhere along the way, I learned that being smaller wasn't just about weight.

It became about everything.

Being quieter.

Being less noticeable.

Having fewer needs.

Making fewer demands.

Asking for less.

Expecting less.

But that's no way to live.

The older I get, the more I realize that confidence isn't about finally becoming small enough.

It's about deciding you don't need to be.

My body was never the problem.

The problem was believing that I needed to apologize for having one.

Today, I take up more space than I did in high school.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Professionally.

And honestly?

I'm proud of that.

Because the space I spent years trying to eliminate is the same space where my life happens.

The space where I laugh.

Learn.

Travel.

Love.

Earn degrees.

Build friendships.

Wear bikinis.

Get tattoos.

Take pictures.

And become more myself.

I can't get those high school years back.

But I can stop wasting the years ahead of me trying to become smaller.

And that feels like freedom.

Because the goal was never to take up less space.

The goal was always to believe I deserved the space I already had.