I’m not sure why this post is so hard for me to write. If you’ve met me or even seen a photo of me than YOU KNOW. It’s not a secret, because it’s in plain sight. I joke about it. I mock myself and call myself names and try to be as self-deprecating as possible, because it hurts less. I hate talking about it. Even though, HELLO, it’s obvious if you have eyes, for some reason, it feels like a failure to me.
It really isn’t anything new. I was always a bigger girl growing up—I have a “woman’s body” for sure—hips and boobs and thighs and truth be told, I like it. I like looking like a girl. But there is a time when you go from being curvy to being a fatty, and trust me I’M THERE.
When I was in college, I dropped a ton of weight. In all honesty, it was too much weight. Friends teased me and said I looked like a bobble head doll. It was a bit of an obsession: long trips to the gym, constant weigh-ins, eating very little. Still, I was thin. I could buy clothes at the kids department. My hip bones poked out.
But slowly and surely, as my life grew more and more stressful, until finally falling apart, I gained weight. More weight than I’d lost. Food is a comfort to me, and I love it. I love eating and cooking and baking. Oh, and I hate working out. I watched as all of the hours at the gym, the denied treats, the learning about healthy eating went down the tubes. GONE.
Even typing this is hard. It sucks to admit that yeah, I did it once. And then I gained it back. I screwed it up. For some reason, typing it out makes it real. Even though I’ve bought the bigger clothes, seen pictures, and obviously look in the mirror every damn day and see myself, it’s hard to admit.
Rest assured that this post is not to simply wax nostalgic and moan about my fatness. My life has come back together, stronger than it has ever before in the past few years. I’m in a career I love, I’m more financially stable than I’ve ever been, and I’m in love with an amazing man. This weight loss feels like the final frontier of really getting my life together.
The time has come to do something about it. I miss being able to wear whatever I want, to take silly photos without being self-conscious, to love being outside and active. Not to mention the obvious fact that it’s not healthy. I don’t like to think about the strain I put on my body. I want to be healthy and confident.
It’s hard for me to write about this publicly: what if I fail again? What if I say yeah, I’m gonna do this and then I screw it up once again? The last thing I want is for everyone in real life AND the internet knowing that I’m STILL a fatty.
Still, it is my hope that maybe, just maybe, doing this in a public forum will help.
So, here’s the plan:
1) I joined Operation Muffin Topple. Check it out! It’s definitely not for the faint-of-heart, because it’s all about Gordon Ramsay style motivation. I got my Phat Nickname today: Flabucino. Perfect for my coffee-loving self. I’m looking forward to hangin’ out with all of my fellow weight-loss attempting chickies.
2) I just want to go down on record now and say that I’m fortunate enough to live with a guy who is helpful. I hear about some boyfriends who you know, order pizza and drink beer in the presence of their girlfriend, just to taunt or tempt. Andrew is on a health and weight-loss kick of his own and is incredibly supportive. We buy only healthy food, rarely eat out, and he trains me in the gym. In fact, he made me do so many frickin’ lunges the other night that my legs STILL HURT. In all seriousness, I’m grateful to have a built-in partner and cheerleader.
3) I’ve set a caloric goal, and a workout schedule. And damn it, I’m gonna stick to it.
4) While I know that no one wants to read only about my diet, and I know that I don’t want to write exclusively about it, I will be occasionally posting about the journey…about how much I’ve lost, about what I’ve learned, about good recipes, about workouts and how angry I am that I am NOT EATING DESSERT. Comment! Join me! Share your secrets. Encourage me. I’ll need it–trust me.
Also, I’m gonna tan, because the only thing worse than being fat, is being fat and PASTY.
If you’re my friend in real life, let’s plan something healthy to do: go for a walk, rollerblade (Leslie?), hit the gym. Oh, and for the love of all things holy, if you see me putting anything bad in my mouth SLAP IT OUT OF MY HAND.