We met when we were in junior high and I was the heaviest I'd ever been, gaining all the weight I'd shed off over the course of the summer. We were friends because we were neighbors and would walk home together at lunch and after school, talking about trucks, Van Halen, and our crazy English teacher. I remember when you told me I was fat, but that it didn't matter because we weren't more than friends.
We started dating when I was the thinnest I'd ever been, last year of high school and my head was, perhaps, more sick than my body looked. We used to watch great movies in your basement, drive around in your crappy car and listen to country music, sending one another the stupidest text message. I remember when you told me I was too thin, but that it didn't matter because I looked better this way then when we met.
We ran into each other tonight, a crazy Friday night at work, and I'm what they call healthy, even if sometimes my mind disagrees. You were with a small posse of friends, I was serving drinks (a whole tray of Jag shots), Britney Spears playing on the floor, but The Go! Team playing in my head. You told me I looked like I was finally happy, and I don't know if the fact that we don't know each other anymore is just a cocidence or not.
I don't blame you, you just didn't help the cause or the effects.