Today is Wednesday, May 6th, 2020. It’s also the day that I’m restarting my diet for the thousandth time. I had to restart because yesterday was Taco Tuesday AND Cinco de Mayo, and when the hell does that ever happen...except maybe once every four years. So yeah, I broke my diet. AGAIN.
And its always like that. If it’s not Taco Tuesday, it’s my birthday. Or my friend’s birthday. Or Christmas. Thanksgiving. Food day at work. And they worked so hard to make all this food, how can I say no? So I’ll start again on Monday.
And here I am...25 years into my life, ready for a change, but failing to take that first step.
I have taken a ton of personality test in my life. I feel like people get satisfaction from these tests, because most of the time, we are looking for validation in who we are. I spent years of my life wondering “Who am I?” And “Who do I want to be?” I even wrote songs about it. (Yes, I’m that girl.) But, just because you resonate with the results, doesn’t mean you have to feed into them.
I’m an Aries. I’m impulsive. I’m a rebel. I don’t like to do things unless they’re my idea. Tell me to do something, and I want to do it even less. I’m a procrastinator. I work well under pressure, because without it, it’s most likely not going to get done. I’m a dreamer...a lazy dreamer. I have all these ideas floating around in my head, but when the time comes to manifest those ideas, I lack the motivation to move forward.
I used to have this one idea pretty frequently: “Tomorrow, I’m going to get up early and go to the gym.” Then the next morning would come, and I would snooze the alarm about 7 times. And before I knew it, it had been 3 years, and I’m cancelling my gym membership to save money.
I used to tell myself that the situation would be different when my life would change. When I was in school and waiting tables part time, I was always waiting for graduation. Once I graduate, I’m going to get my life together. And then I graduated and would work sometimes 13 days straight at the restaurant and was too tired to work out. So it became, when I get a new job, I’ll have more time to work out and eat healthy. Well, I got the new job where I sat at a desk for ten hours a day, and I was still tired and making excuses.
I told myself this time around it would be different, because on March 12th, 2021, I will be walking down the aisle to marry the man I love. And in that moment, I want to feel beautiful.
Self-esteem is really a bitch. I look at the people around me, and I love how people are so individual and unique, and how every body is different. I truly find people beautiful. But I catch a glimpse of myself, and I can’t appreciate the body that I live in. It doesn’t matter that there’s plenty of people in my life who tell me they love me or that I’m beautiful, because at the end of the day, I don’t love myself.
And that’s really what it comes down to. Not just a change to lose weight, but a change to respect yourself enough to love the body that gives you life. And respect has many faces. Respect to give your body what it needs to be healthy through a balanced diet and exercise, and respect to love your body, even when you can’t help but hate it.
And my body is easy to hate.
I’ve always been chunky. When I was in 8th grade, I started taking synthetic hormones to regulate my body, as I was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism. It wasn’t until I was 24, that I also was diagnosed with PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. (Or as my fiancé likes to call it, Pussy Can’t Operate Standardly) Turns out, most of the time, they come hand in hand. But at this point, I felt like I was just double fucked for losing weight.
I had taken these diagnoses and let them control me. I told myself, why even try to lose weight, when it’s not going to make a difference. I believed I would fail before I even began, and those are the results that I manifested for myself for the longest time.
I have been engaged for almost six months now. After the engagement, a couple friends and I decided to start a diet back in December. We were doing a low carb, low fat diet and for the first time in my life, I actually lost weight. A whole 15 pounds. It doesn’t seem like much, but for someone who consistently has gained weight my whole life, I didn’t believe that I could actually lose it.
But then the holidays came again and we stuck to it for about two weeks. I look back on it now, and while I really haven’t gained any weight back, I think about how much I could’ve lost by now if only I had stuck with it.
So here I am on May 6th, 2020. I am 5’10” and 308 pounds. I am also 310 days away from walking down that aisle, and I’m starting fresh. No more excuses. No more giving into the doubts of failing before I begin. Today’s the day that I hold myself accountable, and I set out on this journey to learn how to respect my body and love myself.
And I hope if you are reading this, you decide to take this journey with me. All we can do is one step at a time