My Personal Fashion Statement


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My clothing options weren’t always the best choice. I would have two extremes. Either I would dress myself up as a homeless bag lady, or I’d pretend that I weighed 120 pounds and wear booty shorts with a barely there t-shirt. Either way, no matter the outfit, I looked ridiculous. It’s funny though. I would leave my house, thinking I looked absolutely spectacular, and it would take only one strange look for me to feel ridiculous in my outfit of the day. I’ve come to the realization that nobody can make me feel pretty but me. Maybe I like my oversized sweaters. They’re comfy and make me look ten pounds larger than I really am. I like them and I’m comfortable in them, so I will wear them! Maybe I also like to show off my pleasantly plump belly button. I like my belly button. I think it’s nice and perfectly rounded and perfect in general. Why shouldn’t I want to show that bad boy off?

Maybe it’s because I’ve never loved myself up until now, or because I’m learning to love me for me. Who knows. Whatever it is. Maybe someday I will want to wear fancy couture, or I will want to wear less revealing boobie clothes and more revealing bum bum clothes. If I feel good in what I’m wearing, then I will wear it. Let there be reactions from others, I’ll take it as a compliment. I’ll love me, no matter what I wear. I’m more important than what the clothes on my back.

Charlie Hane sent me this little piece yesterday, and I was blown away by it…

 

“I just know that I was tired. I was tired of thinking less of myself because others did. People always ask me, ‘You have so much confidence. Where did that come from?’ It came from me. One day I decided that I was beautiful, and so I carried out my life as if I was a beautiful girl. I wear colors that I really like, I wear makeup that makes me feel pretty, and it really helps. It doesn’t have anything to do with how the world perceives you. What matters is what you see. Your body is your temple, it’s your home, and you must decorate it”- Gabourey Sidibe.

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Blame


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What I have learned these last few months, is that nothing comes easy. That, and if I lie to myself, things will only backfire and turn out worse for me than they were at the beginning. It’s very easy to blame others for your wrongdoings. It’s easy for me to wake up and say I’m fat, I hate myself, so and so did this to me. Nothing will ever change until I actually, really admit that I am my own problem. My entire life, I’ve been blaming others for my faults. I blamed my mom for not giving me enough attention, I blamed my “father” for not being around, which caused me great psychological pain, I blamed teachers for making fun of me and calling me stupid, and blamed kids for everything else that was wrong with me.

My mom, the one who I always fought with, the one who I told ruined my life, the one that I said I hated time and time again, now turns out to be my best friend. She may still give me those motherly looks sometimes, but I know, deep down, aside from all those stupid faces and comments she may give, she appreciates me for me, and sees me for what I really am; for that child model I should have been years ago. All jokes aside, she’s one of few who have pushed me to keep going, and who truly believes I can do this. What can I blame her for? Being honest? Telling me I was fat? She was just pointing out the truth. It’s not like I didn’t see it. Maybe she wasn’t saying it in the nicest way, but she did not cause me to be fat. Her words did not put the food in my mouth. My own greasy McDonalds fingers did.

“Father”, left when I was two. No idea who he is. He calls me to tell me he loves me and misses me regularly, but to be honest, I don’t really know him. While some people may be quick to diagnose me with “Daddy Issues”, I think I’m stronger than that. I had a mom who was a father to me as well. I didn’t have a dad to buy me a car, or to run to when my mom was mean to me. Doesn’t mean the lack of his presence is the reason I’m fat.  I think being the child of a single mother makes me stronger, and makes me learn from my strong mother. That man who calls himself my father, in the end- really did absolutely nothing for me. Didn’t teach me anything, didn’t teach me values in life. I guess if he didn’t have the power to do anything for me, how could he have had the power to make me fat? In my eyes, he was powerless- therefore, can’t blame him either.

Teachers and peers were not nice in school. While I was always tall for my age, I knew I stood out. I started to get bigger when I was younger, and while stealing lunch from little kids, I guess that’s when I start to balloon. I did it to myself. I asked to be called Hillary Germs, and I asked the teachers not to like me. Teachers really didn’t like me because I was awkwardly tall, and had to stand next to them in school pictures. I was a really cute kid, and probably took the attention off them which made them really upset and not want to like me. Just a thought. I stole snacks from kids lunches, I didn’t participate in activities because I was lazy.

It’s time I stop blaming others, and just beat this disease once and for all. Feeling sorry for myself won’t make me lose weight. Looking in the mirror, and telling myself that I am fat won’t make the weight fall off. I could have turned this all around and said my mom, absent father, teachers and bullies were the reason why I am fat. No one sat me down and forced cheeseburgers down my throat, no one told me I had to take snacks from kids. No one told me I had to closet eat. No one told me I had to sneak to a fast food chain at 2:00 am.

I did it to me. I have no one to blame but me. Now that I have accepted this, I know that I can do this weight loss journey. While I have stalled, a stall is not my reason for failure, a stall should be a reminder for me to wake the f!@ up and get back on track.

Give Me A Little Boost


I’m running out of inspiration. I feel like all I talk about it is how much I love food, and then how much I hate food. How fat I am, and then how skinny I’m getting. Then it’s all about how people hate me and judge me and then how people should be jealous of me.

I need help! Maybe my readers can give me a little inspiration?

I Could Have Been Honey Moo Moo


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When I was a child, I was the most beautiful thing in the world. I sometimes wonder why my mom didn’t put me in beauty pageants like Honey Boo Boo Child, or just put me in modeling? Maybe I would have stayed thin, if I was a model. People always told her that I was beautiful; not just a pretty face. Mama, why didn’t you listen to nice strangers?

Sometimes I think what life would have been like had I been born skinny and not developed a weight problem. Pretty boring if you ask me. At least now I have a story to tell, and I can laugh at myself without getting depressed about it. I guess being fat was kind of like, my story, and it taught me a lot. It taught me not to eat after nine, it taught me how to stand up to bullies, and it taught me how to love me for me. I guess in a way I appreciate where I came from and how much I’ve accomplished.

Part of me can still wish I would have been in modeling though. I would have loved to dress in expensive clothing and drive around in a convertible all year and live in California. Until then, I will continue on dressing in Wal-Mart brand clothing (not really, but y’noh) and drive around on the metro around the city.

Mr. Vending Machine


Dear Vending Machine Man,

I know I am pretty, and I know that you think that I am quite perfect for you. However, not only do I have a boyfriend, I am also extremely fat. While I sincerely appreciate you trying to feed me treats whenever you visit work, I believe it would be best if you would refrain from doing so in the future. My bootylicious belly cannot take one more bag of Doritos or another Cookies & Cream bar.

The gesture is appreciated. Let’s do drinks sometime soon. You can get a drink, I’ll get a glass of water. Well maybe we will do that separately but you know what I mean.

Thanks!

5 Points For Me!


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I’m beginning to enjoy the little things in life. No, not Cadbury Mini Eggs, or Kinder Surprises, but little things like:

1) Looking down, and being able to see my entire foot. I have been so used to looking down and just seeing a mountain of jluge just staring back at me. I can totally tell when I need a pedicure now. I should go visit Mindy Nail, I’m due.

2) Being able to walk up a flight of stairs and not sound like a wheezing orchestra. It’s really nice now, that after walking up a flight of stairs, I’m still as silent as when I started on the first step.

Some other big accomplishments of mine are not ripping through, or breaking heels after a night out. Also, not going for the ice cream. The ice cream is killer. Ice cream just looks at me with devil eyes; especially when there’s a good sale on it. Anyway, I haven’t been near ice cream in the longest time, and to be honest, I don’t really miss it. I’ve kind of like switched it up a bit. I freeze a yogurt, blend it in the baby blender and then sprinkle chocolate chips on it. Better than ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, maybe by not having all that icy goodness, I’ve actually accomplished something BIG. Ever since my tummy tire decided to expand, I’ve always worn my pants under my jluge. For the first time in perhaps ever, my pants actually go above the jludge. Like right where the belly button should go. Like right where all the normal people and mannequins wear their pants. That’s right, I’m dressing like a mannequin now. I may not look like one yet, but someday, I know I’ll get pretty damn close.

My biggest accomplishment though, is that I’ve actually learned to tell myself when to stop. At the beginning, I would get upset when I was surrounded by food that I wasn’t allowed to eat, or that I couldn’t eat. It was hard to see everyone around me eat whatever they wanted. I’d ask myself time and time again why I decided to do this surgery, and then suddenly one day it clicked, and it all made sense. Now, when I’m full, I will stop. No matter how delicious that piece of salmon sashimi looks, it doesn’t look as good as what a healthy me may look like. I’ve learned to not eat to the point where I get sick, and I’ve also learned not to let what other people say get to me.

On that note, people are entitled to form what ever kind of image or idea they want about me. I would too. I mean, this blog has my deepest and darkest and sickest, twisted secrets, so why wouldn’t people have something to talk about? They can think whatever they want. At the end of the day, I know my limits, I know how to live my new way of life. I know what I’m doing. When you have your stomach surgically removed, then come back to me, and tell me how easy it is. I’m not saying I’m innocent, and I’m not saying I was perfect. No one is perfect, and of course I made mistakes. I am on track, and will stay there. I am happy, and no one, and nothing can bring me down.

 

 

AH-MAAZING


Today I got my first “You look AH-MAAZING” and let me tell you… it felt AH-MAAZING! That’s all I really wanted to share today.

That, and the fact that I’m comfortable wearing shorter dresses.

I am also more comfortable being in awkward situations

I also like to look in the mirror.

I like to get pretty and do my hair.

I feel good about me.

Actually, I feel AH-MAAZING