by Beth Staiano

Created on: May 15, 2009   Last Updated: May 20, 2009

As a grown woman in my late 40s, I have to admit that I have spent the vast majority of my life worrying about my appearance. When I was around the age of 13, I started getting teased by the boys because I wasn't developing as quickly as most of the other girls. They called me names like "carpenter's dream" and "chicken legs."

Before those wonderful pre-teen years, I would have to say that I was pretty comfortable about my body and appearance.At the age of 14, I became obsessed with the fact that I didn't have breasts. I remember finding an ad in the back of a magazine that promised a cream that would make my breasts grow bigger. I sent out $10.00 in cash, only to never hear back from them again. Boy, that company must have loved me, huh? Free cash!

When I reached the age of 17, my parents announced that they would be separating for a year and then divorcing. This was very devastating news. I literally wanted to die! I tried to kill myself by eating unhealthy types of foods. If it weren't for religious reasons, I probably would have turned to drugs and alcohol.

I got chubby, and gained 30 pounds. I was miserable and depressed, but nobody seemed to notice. Back then, the teachers and guidance counselors didn't really take kids under their wings the way they do nowadays.

I was no longer concerned about my breast size because I had become obsessed with my weight. I tried to starve myself for days at a time. This resulted in ravenous hunger and uncontrolled eating binges. I was living in a never ending battle.

It wasn't until I met my husband, Philip, that I started to feel more comfortable. Phil made me laugh, and told me how beautiful I was. He gave me confidence and told me I could become and do whatever I set my mind to. I decided to lose the weight. I didn't go on a crazy diet, I just cut back on my food intake, and purchased an exercise bike. I went for power walks or jogged when the weather was nice.

A few months later, I was down to 125 pounds. I worried that it would come back when I became pregnant with my first child. An insensitive co-worker told me that I would turn into one of those women who stayed at home and gained 100 pounds. Well, I was determined to make sure that never happened to me, but I knew that my husband would still love me no matter what size I was.

Four pregnancies later, I was still able to keep off those extra pounds. All it really takes is a little will power. You don't need to starve yourself or go on a crazy

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