The other evening my fiance’ took me out to dinner, for our four year anniversary, to a small little country kitchen we have been wanting to try for a while. When our waitress seated us, she suggested to my fiance’ the new strawberry lemonade they had and the porter house steak, then she turned to me and suggested the lite strawberry lemonade and their fresh garden salad with light dressing. I could tell by her tone and the way she looked at me, she was judging me by my weight. We gave our drink orders in which we both just ordered a Coca-Cola and browsed the menu. When she returned to table with our drinks, we told her we needed a bit more time. As we were finally settled in our options, we shot the covers of our straws at each other and took sips of our soda. Mine tasted sort of off, a super sweet that you could tell wasn’t a regular cola sweet, I had Eric taste it and he told me “I think the waitress gave you diet coke.” This made my heart sink and made me feel embarrassed. He told me not to think anything of it, that she probably got the drink orders mixed up with the other couple who came in at the same time as us. When she came to the table to get our orders she kept recommending vegetable dishes to me and pretty much suggested that I not get what I had ordered because I was fat. Eric caught on to what she was doing and went to speak to a manager about getting us a new waitress. The manager apologized to us and offered the meal to be on the house. We thanked him and waited for our food to come to us. I got up to go outside to make a phone call and as I walked outback I could hear that same waitress on the side of the building making fun of me and laughing about how she kept suggesting vegetable dishes to me. Then she said “I can’t believe he is with her, I don’t see how she hasn’t eaten him yet or killed him during sex. I bet she eats her entire meal, eats part of his and still orders dessert.” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, I felt so fat and ugly. I didn’t understand how one person who didn’t know me could tear me down so bad. I went inside with my head down, hiding my tears, and asked my fiance’ if we could just go home. The manager over heard me crying silently to Eric about everything the waitress said about me, that he came over and apologized to me. He gave a table in the back room to enjoy our dinner in peace and I knew he had a reason behind doing so because his office was right beside the private room and we could hear him yelling at her that her time as a waitress at his restaurant was over and that she was so low in her doing.
I ate in silence with my fiance’, every bite felt like sand in mouth. I had lost my appetite and felt so low about myself. I felt embarrassed for the first time in our relationship to eat in front of him. He came over, sat beside me and hugged me. He told me “Weight is just a number, my love for you is infinite. At the end of the day, you are better than that girl. You are better in your looks, your heart and your career. I think you are absolutely stunning and question why you are with me sometimes. I am one goofy looking bastard but you love me for me and think I am an incredibly handsome fellow. I think you are one gorgeous lady and I wanted tonight to be special because you deserve the world.”
I realize now that girl must have been super insecure about herself to pick on me. I am beautiful and so are you ladies.
I got chills reading what her fiance said to her at the end. Smart man, on so many levels. It’s a real shame that she had to experience this in the first place. I’ve been through something similar (multiple times!), and it’s so painful. My heart goes out to this girl. At least she has an awesome fiance (who is completely right, btw!) giving her love. Who needs that bitchy waitress? Fuck her.
When I started this training, I knew it was going to feel good. I knew what my goals were and I could set them down on paper and chart my progress and see, in black-and-white, the difference between the first day and the last day.
What I couldn’t have ever charted, though, were the million little differences I have noticed in my everyday life since I started. Those are the best. They’re like tiny little surprise bonuses, like the universe is encouraging me to keep going by saying, “Good job, Becca, here’s something that will make you feel even better about yourself.”
I could never list all of them here, because I’d be here all day, but in the 27 days that I have been training, here are some of the differences I have experienced that just make me feel so proud to be doing what I’m doing:
I am more flexible in about 12 different ways. I can touch my toes without straining, I can bend in ways I don’t think I’ve ever been able to bend, which makes so many little tasks easier. Things you’d never think about, like picking stuff up off the floor or shaving your legs. Every time I discover something new that comes easier to me, it’s like this little victory and I could just laugh out loud. It peppers my day with little bursts of happiness, and it’s wonderful.
I am gaining muscles in my legs. This is brand new territory for my body; to have muscles. I’m going to brag for a second and say this: My calves are BAD-ASS right now.
I have more energy. I should have known this one was coming, but this is like a win-win cycle where being active makes me want to be more active. I’ve always been on the high-energy side, but this is a whole new level for me. It’s fantastic.
I am losing weight. As much as I love my body, losing weight seems to be a natural side effect for me of being active. I’m not really concerned with the numbers, and couldn’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve lost, because it’s not about that for me. Losing this weight truly has not made me love my body any more than I already loved it; BUT — as I have more and more clothing options open up to me, I feel excited at the prospect of being able to more accurately represent my personal style through my wardrobe. I am beginning to understand why it stereotypically takes girls so long to get dressed in the morning, which is one of those “normal moments” I have never had in my life.
I am happier. Just generally happier. I know that I am working hard, and that makes me feel good. I can see and feel that I am making progress, and that makes me feel good. I am setting myself up for success, and that makes me feel good. I feel encouraged, determined, and productive, which are three very good things to feel.
I am running a 5k. Just saying it makes me well up with pride. Me. ME! I’m doing it. I’ve had some struggles, and I will have some more struggles. But I will keep pushing, and keep going, and I will accomplish this goal.
This is my best friend, Becca. She is amaziface and I love her so much for chasing her dream and changing her entire life to make it happen. I also love that so many positive and surprising changes are coming her way! She deserves all of it! :-D <3<3<3
First of all, fat does not automatically equal unhealthy, but I’m not even going to get started on that because I’ll be here all day.
Here’s my real question: So fucking what if it is unhealthy? You cannot use the “It’s unhealthy” excuse to try and stop fat people from being okay with…
well sure, but there is a difference between a drink of alcohol or poor hygiene and being a hundred, or even two hundred pounds over weight. And I’m sorry, but there is a point where I don’t understand how a person can look in the mirror and say, “yeah, I’m ok with this.” I’m not saying you have to be stick skinny, but really. There is no way that you can tell me those people are actually happy with their lives. And quite frankly, they SHOULDN’T be ok with it. Because if they are, that means they have issues even larger than their (considerable) weight that desperately need to be addressed.
Do you not even see what you did there? You compared having a drink of alcohol (a choice) and having poor hygiene (a choice) with being considerably overweight (You have NO IDEA if it’s an individual’s choice or not), and that’s pretty much the point of the original post. You don’t know. You’re making assumptions based on stereotypes and stigmas and trying to disguise them as some charitable concern about health, when really what you’re saying is, “Your body is the wrong kind of body to be.”
It’s okay if you don’t understand how a morbidly obese person can be okay with their body, because you don’t have to understand everything in the world. But just because you don’t understand it doesn’t make it any less okay, or any less true.
And actually, there IS a way that I can tell you those people can be happy with their lives. Watch: Those people can be happy with their lives. See how easy that was? Again, just because you don’t understand how it could be true doesn’t make it any less true. The best thing about happiness is that it is the least discriminatory thing in the world. People of all classes, sizes, genders, identities, races, sexual preferences, religions or lack of religions, and walks of life; can be, and are allowed to be, happy and you don’t get to try and take that away from ANYBODY just because you don’t like something about them.
I have a REALLY big issue with you trying to tell someone what they should and shouldn’t be okay with. Like, HUGE issue.
Listen, sugar pie: When you get crowned Queen of the World because your obviously superior intellect and unending wisdom qualifies you to tell other people how to live their lives, THEN you can tell people what they should and shouldn’t be okay with. And when you get your PhD in Psychology, THEN you can feel free to help all the people (fat and skinny, stick thin and extremely obese, and everybody in between) with their “issues that desperately need to be addressed” — but even then, ONLY if they come to you for help first.
Anything else is totally patronizing and wholly unwelcome.
^^^ This is why I love this girl. Among, like, a million other reasons. But y’know.
This is me. Twice. (lol)
The one on the left is a photo of me taken a while ago, but it is the closest to a decent comparison shot to my other photo of me, on the right, taken when I was in high school, and the weight is very similar to my current weight.
I know people hear “I wanna be the size I was in high school!” and roll their eyes. But you know what? It’s not like I was what I like to call “teenager-thin” (i.e. My-body-is-still-developing-and-will-never-be-this-thin-again). I was a teenager, yes, but I hit puberty early so I had developed plenty at the time. I was the same height I am now and a size 14 when this shot was taken. (For comparison I wear a 26/28 now: about double clothing size.) I was comfortable with my body and enjoyed my curves. I felt good in my own skin. I remember that feeling… oh, it’s such a distant memory, but a fond one.
Since that time, due to all sorts of things, including but certainly not limited to: depression, crippling anxiety, various cycling eating disorders, out-and-out laziness and a monster sweet tooth, I have gained a bunch of weight. At my highest, the difference between that photo and the number on the scale was 123 lbs. I’ve lost 6 pounds since then (yay!).
But one hundred and twenty three pounds. THAT’S a “teenager-thin” PERSON! I gained an entire person!
I used to be of the mindset “I am a whale, an absolute planet, I have my own gravitational force! I am disgusting and worthless and hideous and I need to be SKINNY! I need to be nothing but skin and bones! That way people will like me and I will stop being disgusting!”
Today, I am thankful that I no longer feel that way.
I am thankful that, through years of absolutely HATING my body, hating myself for being weak and pathetic enough to let myself get (and stay) fat, scratching self-deprecating messages into my thighs with safety pins and generally mistreating my body, I can look in the mirror and while I still don’t see an accurate representation of myself (I hope someday I can again, but I’ve had skewed perception of my own size for years, and can legitimately not accurately compare my size to another person’s, so I often have to ask either my mom or occasionally my best friend or boyfriend what my size is compared to another big person I see), I can look at the reflection without crying (unless I’m having a really bad day, which we all do from time to time) and honestly considering taking a sharp knife to my flab. I will not lie: that thought has crossed my mind several times over the last decade and a half. And I don’t know exactly what changed, though I strongly suspect it is the people I have around me who love me and build me up, but now, instead of feeling like I have to practically kill myself to be a size 0, I have come to the conclusion that given my size now, my structure, and a few other factors, a size 0 would not be healthy on me. And I started to think that instead of aiming for a tiny size, I would aim for a feeling (though yes, a weight/size reference to go along with that as a base would be helpful).
When I started thinking back on when I last felt healthy, when I last felt like I was in a good mindset, what I wish I could go BACK to, instead of overshooting anything I’ve ever experienced before, I kept picturing me when I was 14. That’s the me above. And I thought about it really hard. I realized this was just before my really bad eating disorder time, and that it was when I remember standing in front of the mirror and saying to myself “People keep calling me fat. And you know what? Whatever. Because this? This is beautiful.” I was FOURTEEN. It was during one of my “OK” cycles, and while they were rare, that feeling was genuine, and I look back on it with great fondness.
Why couldn’t I have had that mindset over the last 14 years? I’ve even gone so far as to book consultations on weight loss surgery. And I’m not ruling it out completely, but I will say that I’d rather this on my own, or at least give it every damned thing I have trying first!
But dwelling on why I couldn’t have had that mindset in the mean time is time wasted. It’s in the past. Along with the body that I want back. The body I’ve had before. The body I hope to have again. The body that I know will not look exactly like the one in the picture because things change over time. I’ve grown a lot outward so I know I will have extra skin to deal with. Gravity will likely not be my friend. But the body that I hope to have will be one whose muscles are strong because I made it a point to have moved them. One whose eyes will sparkle with the gleam of satisfaction from working hard to achieve results. And most importantly, I will feel like myself again.
Because, after much examination, ME… I… Wendy… The core of who I am, body or not… I’m not tits on a stick. I’m not emaciated. I am a woman with some curves, and who enjoys her curves. I am a woman whose ample bosom has been the cushion of many healing hugs, both given and received. I look forward to being on the outside what matches what I feel on the inside. And that hasn’t been the case in a long time. It’s something i greatly look anticipate experiencing again!
I’m blessed to have a man in my life who finds me beautiful, sexy, and all these other great things, and who tells me this on a regular basis. I want to see myself as beautiful and sexy as he sees me. That would be great! :-)
Over the years I became content with being sedentary. It’s easier, after all, to sit on my ass for hours upon hours at a time and reblog a thousand things on Tumblr, or waste time reading my Newsfeed on Facebook and feel depressed about how everyone else’s lives seemed so much better than mine. But here’s the thing, I know that it feels good not to be sedentary. It feels really good to feel my muscles all working together, contracting and relaxing in succession and producing that… exercising (for lack of a better term at the moment) warmth.
It’s a struggle to get myself to get up and move. For instance, this is my third day off and in the last two days, I’ve gone to the gym twice (hooray!) but today I have some badass shin splints so you know what I’ve done today? A whole lot of nothing. But it is my goal to do *something* physical today. After all, I have an upper body! I have a midsection! But I need to rest my legs so I don’t cause any further damage.
I’ve had bad knees since I was a teenager, and that has been my greatest excuse for the majority of the exercising I do not do. A car accident resulting in a worse knee injury didn’t help. But let me tell you something. I have dreams of running. That’s right. In the night when I dream, sometimes it’s of running. The destination is non-existent. I am simply running for the sake of running. Just to feel my body moving that way, to feel the air pass over my skin, to feel my breath keeping time with my pace. It’s something I have trouble experiencing now (for a few reasons!) but I sincerely hope that when I lose enough weight to make it easier on my knees (and other joints!), I will enjoy running as much as my dream self does.
My best friend has also dealt with being overweight pretty much her entire life. And I’ve envied her because she reached the point of accepting and loving her body while I still loathed mine. I downloaded a free app (that has a corresponding free website) called MyFitnessPal that I love, and I was entering the exercise I’d done earlier that day as well as what I was eating at our meal together. She confessed she just didn’t get it, and that she didn’t care (about herself keeping track, not that she didn’t care about my process. She’s nothing but supportive and amazing!). And that’s totally OK, too. I’m thankful to have her on my side, even if she isn’t doing the same thing I am. After all, who cares? My life isn’t her life and hers isn’t mine! She’s content! I am just not yet, that’s all.
I know I’m not going to go from a couch potato to a fitness buff, but I do want to improve my health. I don’t want it to wind me when I go up my measly 5-stair staircase. I don’t want it to take me a sec to catch my breath when I freaking roll over in bed. And I confess it would be really quite nice to go into a clothing store and pick something out off of the rack of the cheaper cuter clothes. There is some serious injustice with plus size clothing, but that’s a whole other rant. I want to be able to fly without using a seatbelt extender. I want to be able to ride on the rides in amusement parks without being nervous whether or not I’ll fit and have to be removed from the ride in front of everyone else who is staring and the fatty squeezing her ass out of the seat and delaying their ride. Yeah, it’s happened! More than once. It would feel awfully nice to not worry if people are laughing about my size and whispering about me. It would be even nicer to not give a crap :-D
So wish me luck. I have a long way to go. And I’ll be honest: it’s going to be REALLY HARD!!! But I know that it’ll be worth it. :-)
I want to adopt this resolution. Every year I say the same thing… I’m going to lose weight this year!
Granted, my reasons for losing weight are greatly for my health, and to be able to fit cute clothes that don’t cost a trillion dollars, and so people will stop making fun of and making snide comments about my weight/body. But after years of struggling with various eating disorders and continued bouts of the mindset that fed them (haha see what I did there?) I’ve realized that there was one underlying factor: I hate my body.
I hate it because I’ve been told I should for so long I started to believe it.
But not I want to change that. I know that accepting my body and loving my body are two huge steps from simply loathing this vessel I’m rockin’. But I guess that’s why they call it a resolution, you have to resolve to do it. Make a conscious effort. And it will require a LOT of effort.
So I want to make this resolution not just mean looking in the mirror and thinking “Damn look at that body oh my god I’m so fucking FINE!”. Nah. I won’t strive for that. Not yet, at least. But I’m taking this as loving my body from a biological standpoint. Loving it enough to take care of it. Loving it enough to respect it. Loving it enough to not automatically look at it and succumb to the feelings of self-loathing.
It will be a journey. So here’s hoping I can stick with THIS resolution! :-D It would make my entire life so much better! It’s amazing how toxic those negative thoughts are.