The exercise of putting together photos left me rather spent emotionally. I got to one photo of me in the 8th grade and then the record stopped, picked up with my senior photo from HS and then because I was in the office, the only other photos I had were from my cruise with my BFF in 1Q 2006. Things turned disastrous when I arrived at the photos from Jamaica.
This wasn't the same photo. In the photo I was looking at, I'm standing next to my gorgeous BFF in her bikini, and I look like I'm trying to cover myself. I can even see the discomfort in my face here. It's as if I'm saying "get it over with."
A few years ago I bought myself a bikini, hoping it would motivate me to exercise. It did until I injured my back. By the time summer came around, I was back to my old weight (a combination of inactivity and depression). Another friend asked me to go to her family's beach house for the weekend with her. I packed the bikini. Who the hell knows why, but I actually wore it on the beach, stomach and all. It was my grand "And what?" to life. I spent most of the time in the water just thinking to myself, hey I'm lucky to walk.
This is how I got the nickname Lambfish -- because while all my friends were tanning on the shore, I was in the cool water, floating and swimming, the nerves in my back numb, the muscles relaxed. I was very happy.
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