I was tired and reckless. I cut somebody off when I was driving, just because I forgot to look (I ALWAYS look). I had a fuck of a time parallel parking. And I cried. I cried because I'm not suddenly 20 pounds smaller in three weeks. My boyfriend had to talk me down. Six pounds, he said, at the end of three weeks is good progress. I guess I just have to remind myself that I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm twenty-four. And while I still feel like a little kid, my body doesn't act like one. I can't take off twenty pounds by blinking like I used to. It just doesn't work that way anymore. That's kind of a sad realization...
I freaked out. Not only because my diet isn't as effective as I had hoped (unrealistically) that it would be, but because I dread being THAT girl. The one who's constantly talking about exercising and food intake. It scares me that I'm the type of person who must constantly consider and reconsider everything that goes into my mouth. It's so much work! My mother used to be that person. She'd call me up, and the only thing she had to talk about was going to the gym, going to spin class, going to her running club, going to yoga class, which triathlon she was competing in, how she'd gone three days without eating a cookie, how she gained three pounds because she drank some beer... This sounds horrible, but luckily she ended up injuring both her foot and her shoulder, landed in physical therapy, and has a healthier relationship with her own health. I'm sorry, but I don't want to spend my life talking about my carb intake. My boyfriend's mom is like that, too. Apparently she had the predecessor to gastric bypass surgery, and experienced a lot of awful health problems as a result, and then ended up losing a buttload of weight on Atkins. I like his mom, but all she talks about is food, and what she can and can't eat. It's sick.
I don't want to be like that.
Sometimes, I wish I could just be happy with fat. I mean, I should be eating healthier, I know, and I'm trying to. I've stayed disciplined for three weeks, which is more than I can say about any of my other attempts. But I'm honestly jealous of the fat girls I know who are ok with being fat. They have such vibrant personalities, and great senses of style. They do more than I do because they're ok with themselves. They wear tank tops and white pants and flashy jewelry and colors other than black. Why am I not like that? I talk about self-love, but do I really believe it? Well, yes, but I have very little for myself.
I think I need to focus more on being happy with myself regardless of size or weight. I can continue with the diet, but if I don't feel pretty or confident, I'm going to be plain miserable. I deserve to have better things to talk about than the food that goes into my mouth. I am more than that. I need to accept what I have now, because it's not going to go away quickly. In order to lose the amount of weight I want to lose, I'm probably going to have to commit to a full year of this... and then to maintain it, I'm going to have to do this every day for the rest of my life. My body would prefer to be fat, I think... I wish my mind could be more progressive and accept me for who I am.
So I'm setting out a few non-weight related goals... because I, nor anyone else, don't deserve to be a slave to obesity guilt.
1 - I promise to buy (and wear... frequently) a pair of white pants this summer.
2 - I promise to buy tops that are NOT black.
3 - I promise to wear big, gold jewelry and metallic accessories.
4 - I promise to read more books, watch more news, and have something to talk about besides how much I hate my job and how fat I am and what I'm eating and how I'm exercising.
5 - I promise to stick to my diet... while accepting what I am at every moment.
Fat girls shouldn't be punished for what they are. I didn't choose this for myself. I'm not denying that I've taken certain actions that have gotten me here, but I didn't decide at any point that I wanted to become a fat person. This is something that happened gradually, and it's something I feel deep shame about... and I shouldn't have to. I deserve to love myself every bit as much as a thin person does. I deserve to be happy, even while I'm dieting. I deserve all of this, and I'm not going to talk myself out of it. Fuck you if you don't like looking at a fat girl in white pants. I'll do what I want, because I deserve it.