Great things come with age, like be able to drink whenever you want, and…. being able to drink whenever you want, and having a favorite spoon…? Getting old is stupid. You have to like go to work everyday or else you can’t afford to be alive, and you’re scared of middle school girls who travel in packs, oh and also your body turns to shit.
Okay, maybe that last one is just me, but fear of middle school girls is all of us. If you’ve been following me for a while, or know me in real life, my weight gain has been fairly obvious. My face is nice and round like a cantaloupe, and sometimes I think I contour it and it looks MORE round. Where is my jawline?? I know everyone pretends to not notice, which is nice-ish. But like, quit invalidating my feelings by telling me “omg you’re not fat” or the worse “You’re so pretty”. So, if you genuinely don’t see it, God bless you, however, I see the scale and I’m the one with a pile of clothes that don’t fit, so I know.
I don’t complain for attention
or for people to tell me how I great I am. I just genuinely complain to myself because I’m not happy and if I hold it, I’ll explode. I have to immediately compare myself to an overstuffed sausage or I’ll die.
It did take like a year for me to get to where to I am, but it happened more rapidly these past couple of months. I was on some medication for a bit that put some LB’s on me. Then these past few months I was growing out of clothes left and right. New outfits I bought wouldn’t even zip a month later. It was so defeating. I had to wear an Old Navy stretchy, swing, cover-up looking dress to a wedding because it was the only dressy thing I could find that would work.
I started working out 5 days a week, and I started eating super healthy lunches, and relatively healthy dinners. In the two weeks that I made those changes I outgrew one new skirt and gained 4 pounds. So I texted my doctor. Because either something might be wrong, or I needed her to hit me with a candlestick in the right part of my brain that would give me amnesia.
I know as you get older, shit changes
High schoolers pull some Jennifers Body type demonic shit and steal our youth and beauty. I had myself ready to promise the soul of a newborn baby to have the body of the hostess at our local restaurant. However, I felt what was happening to me was very unfairly not normal. Too much too fast, and you can ask any child superstar, that is not a good thing. I mean, I am one shake away from having to be on Dr. Phil.
A possible thyroid problem was brought up and I was so high on the idea that there was something wrong with my body. I have never, and I mean NEVER (I have medical anxiety), hoped for bad blood work before. But everyone was so sure it was a problem. My weight and “fat” neck was the topic of conversation for like 4 days, certain that it was not normal. Well, obviously because I’m the walking Murphy’s Law, nothing was wrong and everyone called me fat for no reason. Which I will be using like a punch card whenever they want something from me. Oh, can I help you clean the house? Remember that one time you thought I got so fat that something was wrong with me? Ask me in 3 more punches.
So now, I’m back to square one.
I will keep doing what I have been trying to do. Just working out, trying to get more cardio, and more closely tracking my meals, and eating healthier options. I know I got to here, so I can get out of here, and damn it I am committed to getting out of here.
I know weight isn’t everything, and I don’t need to look like the girls in the magazines or do crash diets and cleanses. However, I am not happy with the way I look, I hate it and I want to change it for me. The scale can say what it wants, at the end of the day I just want to look good for me.
So if you see me in public or look at my pictures, just know that I know. If you whisper to your friends, or send the occasional screen shot of my body in your group chat, just know I’m WAY in on the joke, I invented the joke. However, I’m working on it so you legally have to cease and desist now and you have to talk about how good I look when Im done. It’s the law.
Cheers to working on it! And cheers to not telling me “omg you’re not fat” “you’re so pretty” or anything else. This is about me acknowledging my unhappiness and the journey to fix it! This is totally not going to turn into a fitness journey blog type of deal and I’m not gunna be a fitness coach. However, if you ever have questions, advice, or similar stories I will always appreciate you reaching out and answer any questions!