I had a good childhood. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia.

I was a southern peach, and with that came the teachings of how to properly entertain, write thank you notes and even how to iron bed sheets. My dad worked, and my mom was at home with us for most of the years we lived there. Two brothers, John and Ted, kept their harassment to a minimum and always made it known that they had my back. Family has always been a priority to me, and I especially love that we do not define it just by blood. A good solid upbringing.

I remember the first time I became aware of my body in a negative light. I never really paid attention because I was comfortable. I was active. I played soccer and ran track and cross country. Riding bikes was a daily event, and I felt pretty good about things.

I began attending a private school in eighth grade. I was not pleased about leaving my public school friends and starting something new. Ted had already been there for a year, so I found comfort in his experience and willingness to introduce me to new friends. I was making the adjustment and starting to settle in, when one day I was walking down the hall and I overheard a boy — you know, the popular one — say to my newest friend, “I don’t want her to come to the party. She is a beached whale.”

Ouch.

When I think back over my path that has led me to who I am today, this handful of seconds was the first experience to negatively impact my self-image. And with any moment in time, other influences and ways of life mix in, and in this case, I had a loving mother who helped us cope with such difficult times by feeding us. We didn’t only have difficult times soothed with food. It didn’t matter what emotion was going on: there was food. And good food. I mean, it was the South, the birthplace of “comfort food.” Eating to comfort sadness, eating to celebrate success, eating when angry, eating when confused. It was commonplace, and when combined with the addictive nature of sugar, it was a key ingredient in a recipe that led me to being fat for many years.

Are you holding on to something from long ago? Free yourself from that burden. I now know I held on to what that boy said for far too long. It applies to my life today. Let stuff go. Faster. You can let it go by writing it out or sharing it with someone. Share it on my Facebook if you would like. Own it. Feel it. Release it.

PS. I was not a beached whale. This picture is from the same year I walked down that hall and overheard the statement that found a place in my head, my heart and my stomach for decades. Kids are cruel. Teach kindness.