I decided against the haircut. I have been trying for years to grow my hair long like Kim Kardashian and while I will never have Armenian hair, I do have good hair, and I’m not cutting it.
In an effort to make over my life, I’m starting with my health. My physical health. I already workout a little (not as much as I used to) so adding more days and variety will help with that. The real makeover is in the food.
I recently started working with a dietitian. I’ve tried everything, Weight Watchers, Jillian Michaels, little or no carbs–you name it I’ve tried it. The only thing I haven’t tried are cleanses because there is no way that is healthy. I decided to work with a dietitian because they are specialized, and qualified. They go to school for this and they understand how eating, exercise and the body work. With Weight Watchers, the group leader is someone who was successful with the program, not someone who understands how sugar, and protein and other nutrients fuel the body. The dietician is expensive. While, I absolutely cannot afford this, I am doing it anyway. My mother said “[insert given name here], it’s an investment in your health.”
I should probably note that, I’m not a walking blob. I’m overweight, but I’m not to the point (nor will I let myself) where I can’t where normal sized clothes. I am, however, overweight.
A lot of my anxiety and self confidence issues stem from my weight. I’ve always struggled with it. Since I was about 10 years old, I was the fat kid. I have two sisters who should and could easily be models. They are lean and gorgeous. So gorgeous, fact, that my whole life I was always considered “the good eater” versus my one sister (who is about 21 months younger than me) who was always told how beautiful she is. I have always envied my sisters, their beauty and their smarts. Growing up boys always paid attention to them, while I focused on my grades and extra curricular activities. Even in college, my roommates were the ones who got attention. Of course, this didn’t help, but it was also something I couldn’t control. While, I’m sure my appearance didn’t help, my personality probably didn’t aid in my not getting attention from the opposite sex. Growing up, I was never so obese that I looked scary, I was chunky. In fact, my whole life (even now) my nickname from my family has been a word that derives from chunky. In fact, one of my uncle calls me “chunkina” which is is like girl chunk.
So, you can image how these nicknames, and experiences have scarred me. In college, I was put on a migraine medication and within about 5 months I went from a size 14 to a size 6. That’s about 40 pounds. Of course in college I did more walking because I lived on campus. Still, I always had a voracious appetite and this medication made it go away. Best. Thing. Ever. I still enjoyed food, I just didn’t eat too much of it. My family continued to called me, “chunkina.” Frankly, it was probably warranted because never let go of the fat kid inside me.
Well, when I graduated I didn’t have a good job and didn’t have health insurance so I stopped taking the magic medication. And on packed the pounds.
Now, I’m back to my high school weight and none of my cute size six clothes fit. My anxiety is through the roof, and I hate myself.
So last week, I made an appointment and started a program. The eating plan officially started today so of course I have to wait until next Friday to know if it is working. I’m sure the first week will be good. I’m focused and more motivated than I thought I’d be. I’m sure the expense is forcing me to be focused. I’m like this with the gym. In the morning when I get up and don’t want to go, I think to myself, “get up, you’re paying for a membership.”
As you all know, I haven’t been feeling right. FH and I talked about it and he said something that I think is on point. He said, “if something in your life is making you unhappy, get rid of it.”
Well, the thing that is making me unhappy is my health and appearance. When I feel like I look good in a bathing suit, things just seem sunnier. Maybe I’m vain, I don’t know and I don’t care.
I’m tired of getting dressed in the morning and feeling like if I was thinner I’d be able to dress trendier. I’m also tired of worrying that I’m going to hate all the wedding pictures because I’m cow. I’m also tired of worrying that FH is going to look at me one day and think, “that isn’t the girl I fell in love with.” While, I don’t actually believe he would think something like that, I know that I look at myself and think, “where is the artistic, confident girl that proudly walked [insert undergrad institution here].”
I guess, I’m thinking if I make over my physical self it will be the beginning of loving my interior neurotic self. I don’t know if this will actually work, but I have faith. I know it’s time to get over this weigh issue. I don’t want to start my new life with FH hating the old me–the child in me. I want to start our life together happy with myself.
Honestly, it’s been over 15 years that I’ve been struggling with this problem. Enough is enough. The fat kid must die.
The excess weight has been warned. Not get off bitch.