TFO

TFO = The Fat One. It’s a term coined by the women in my family (mother, 2 older sisters, 1 younger sister and myself) almost three years ago while bridesmaid dress shopping for one of my sisters weddings. Now, let me make something clear. This is not derogatory, serious, or anything that anyone in the family dwells on.

Anyway, so we’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses, and we’re all together. So, they take our measurements while we’re all together. My family jokes a lot and is very sarcastic. So, if course, we start comparing. I easily weigh the most. My two older sisters are 2-4 inches shorter than I am, and skinnier. My younger sister is the same height as me, and at that time, was probably only a few pounds lighter. Anyway, the stick-like figures of my siblings means that i’m the only one with a waist. With the cut of the dress, the waist was the measurement used to choose the size. I ended up with the smallest size, despite weighing the most. My little sister ended up with the label of “TFO”.

Fast forward a year – we’re doing this whole process again for a wedding. This time, the size of the dress is determined by the bust size. Well, we are all card-carrying members of the itty-bitty-titty-committee. I am the swimmer though, so I’m the only one with any upper body. So, I claim my title of TFO.

Present day – Oldest sister is running and doing triathlons with her husband. Youngest sister is fueling her running addiction – she BQed her first marathon, and is doing Boston and Philly this year.  Other sister, who loves working out, just started running to train for our Ragnar Relay in January. She already beat my 10k PR.

I am TFO. I outweigh each of my sisters by 15-25lbs. I’m easily the slowest runner. My sisters picked on me for being muscular, but I was always the one they came to when they needed furniture moved or a jar opened.

I’m embracing the title. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll do some pull-ups.

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