By JULIA KOZERSKI
“Big.” Not “fat,” not “obese,” “Big.” That was what they (my family, my friends, myself) called me. “Big.” Growing up, I was always the biggest kid in my class. My family is tall (I am 5’9”.) We have broad shoulders, large feet. My mom always said we were just genetically predisposed to be a “big” family.
That’s where it started. “Big.” My two younger sisters, my mother, my father and I lived in a home in Milwaukee, WI (a city in which I still reside today.) Both of my parents worked full-time and, for us, food was mainly a necessity. There wasn’t much focus on the enjoyment of meals, rather just eating to continue living. We consumed a lot of “family-style” frozen meals and they were limitless. Second and third helpings were regular. And, we drank soda (usually “diet.”) So, our already “big” family kept getting bigger.
When it came to high-school, I began to feel more self-conscious about my physique. Of course, I was still the “biggest” teenager in my class. I befriended the boys because they didn’t care what I looked like, they just wanted another teammate to play basketball. I didn’t have many female friends. I mean, at that age, I knew I would never be homecoming queen and I surely wasn’t going to be able to go clothing shopping with them.
So, I was a tom-boy. Then I entered high-school. The emphasis on appearance was overwhelming. Everyone was dating and trying out for cheerleading, while I resorted to skipping class and eating whatever was in sight or hiding out, processing film in the photography darkroom. It was during this time that I began becoming depressed and channeled my feelings and emotions into creative/artistic/visual explorations.