Someone called me fat today and it hit me much harder than I care to admit.
Ever since I was a teenager my weight has played a big part in how I see the world. I hated myself so much and I chose to cry and eat more instead of do something about it. This went on for years until I moved out to Arizona, I’ll never forget it.
I was living with some friends and my roommate gave me a 25 free day pass to Pure Fitness. It took me months but I finally utilized it and 3 years later I had lost 85 lbs. I went from 305 to 220 and I never felt better……physically at least. I started obsessing because I wasn’t small enough and no one seemed to be attracted to me, even after I lost the weight.
“What is wrong with? Maybe a few more pounds….just a few more!”
Even in success I felt like a failure and upon moving back to Mississippi I pretty much gained all the weight back in a year. Crazy how that happens huh? My moms cooking, mixed with depression for feeling like I failed because I moved back; plus the feeling of me not being good enough anyway, lead to my spiral back into the triple X’s.
I’ll never forget how it felt when I bought my first V-neck. It was one of my first purchases wearing a large. I’d always had an extra x in front of it so this was a big deal for me. I never felt more attractive. I also remember how it felt when I couldn’t fit that V-neck anymore. Time went on and all the clothes I’d bought to fit my smaller frame were no longer able to fit and I just continued to grow. I was in denial for a lot of it, but it’s crazy what sadness can do. I just ate the pain away, I was a failure at life so I might as well fail at everything else.
I never thought I’d get out of that funk until I fell for someone, way harder than I wanted to. That didn’t work out of course but being in love made me want to be better; to do better. During that time I remembered what it was like at my healthiest. I had confidence. Lot’s of it. I never noticed it at the time but looking back it’s so obvious. I walked taller, talked louder, and fought for what I believed it more often. I worked hard to get to where I was and I was darn proud of it. I had conquered those voices in my head and the more I worked at it, the quieter they became. So what happened?
I think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. My health was important yes, but deep down I just wanted someone to be attracted to me. I’ve never known what that was like and the first time this girl eye raped me I felt violated yet thrilled. I always said and still believe that you have to love yourself first. I loved a lot of things about myself, but when I looked in the mirror I never saw anything I liked. There was always something and I’ve worked on stopping that. I’m my own worst critic but this is the only body I have, I need to start loving it regardless.
I also realized that there is no finish line. My goal, when I was 305, was to hit 210. I stalled at around 220 and I constantly beat myself up week after week if I didn’t lose a pound. I’d get pissed, feel like a failure, and binge eat out of frustration. I didn’t appreciate how far I’d gone and I was just focusing on the number. Always the number. I’m against scales now for that very reason, how you feel is more important than what a scale tells you.
“I have to start over again, why didn’t I stop this before it got so far?!?”
My brain is my biggest enemy at the moment. I just fear going through all that hard work just to fail again, so I keep putting it off.
Today at work a customer jokingly said, while ordering cigarettes from my co worker, “Oh don’t worry, fat boy will get it. Grab my cigarettes for me fat boy.”
I told him he was being rude and he smirked and said “Come and give me a hug Santa Clause.” I’ve been in a funk ever since. I’ll be alright though, it’s all a part of the journey. Either I do something about it or deal with it. The decision is mine and mine alone. I know what I have to do, but the hard part is actually doing it.