To My Grandma


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On November 5th 2014,  I suffered a great loss. My wonderful, amazing, beautiful grandmother passed away. My grandmother,  was my best friend, and someone who I spoke to everyday. Being the oldest grandchild, I knew I was lucky to have both my grandparents at 26, so I made sure to speak to her everyday, sometimes even twice a day. I knew that I wouldn’t have them forever, so I made sure to speak to them as much as I could. She would never let me speak to my grandfather, because she wanted me all to herself. My Grammy made it a point to judge, criticize, and comment when necessary, and she really had no filter; but I loved every moment of it! It feels so weird not to be able to call her anymore, this is the longest we’ve gone without speaking.

In the end, my grammy had a very weak heart, and she was in so much pain, but was too proud to say anything. Grammy was such a fighter and really wanted to live forever. Her heart was too weak and was not able to handle all the love she had for all her kids, grandkids and her soulmate- my Papakins!

Aside from Donald, and Mommy Ginger, my Grammy was the one person who really helped me stay on track with my weight loss and who pushed me to succeed. She knew as well as anyone, that my biggest fight was to get under 200 pounds. This is something that  I have been struggling with for the last 15 years of my life. For the last 6 months I have bounced near ONEDERLAND, but was never able to actually make it. My weight loss for the last two months has gone from 215.3 to 205.7 to 202.4 to 201.3 to 200.6 to 200.3. On the morning of November 5 2014, the day my grandma left us, I suffered not only one great loss, but two.  I got on the scale, because I felt a change within myself… to my surprise, the scale had shown me something I haven’t seen in a decade and a half… a ONE, on the scale. I got on and weighed 199.2….WITH CLOTHES! This may be so little to most people, this is something extremely huge for me, and is such a milestone in my life.

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While I know my Grammy is no longer with us in person, she is definitely with me in spirit. I don’t think I could have ever done this without her. I think that was her way of telling me that she is still here and watching over me. I never believed in that kind of stuff, but to me, it doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

Grandma, wherever you are, know that I love you, and I think about you everyday. Thank you for helping me succeed, and making me who I am today. I couldn’t have done it without you. I will never stop thinking about you, and I thank you for watching over us.

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Morning Hikes


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This weekend, my lovely amazing boyfriend thought it would be a marvelous idea to go take a hike in our backyard. I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. We seriously have a mountain trail for walking, (which I think is mostly up hill) in our backyard. So we went for an effing hike. My walk started off terribly. Some skinny, older lady, around 50, with bushy eyebrows, gave us two fatties a face like “really, you think you’re going to walk all this? Please go home” and then she started doing this stupid stretch, from that point  her face just really bothered me and I didn’t want to be anywhere near her. While she was still stretching at the bottom of the hill and me and Donald decided to start our adventurous walk. This workout started off with an abundance of stairs, followed by a ten minute uphill climb. I was ready to go home after my first asthma attack, but Donald suggested that we keep going. As we’re walking, bushy eyebrow lady decides to walk ahead of us to make us feel even fatter. I know it was intentional, because she gave us a stupid face as she walked by. Seriously Greta, I don’t need your stares, I get enough of those from my mom (love you Mama Bear). So, at this point, I’m pissed off, and I just want to find a bench and sit-for a long time. Sitting is one of my favorite pastimes, especially in public places, because I absolutely adore people watching. After sitting down for about thirty seconds,  I looked down at my fat stomach, and told myself that I don’t want to wear Spanx for the rest of my life, so I’m going to need to keep on going. 40 minutes later, we had finally made it, and with our beautiful walk, we had the most beautiful view of our city! It was only fitting to act like tourists and take some selfies while we were at it!

 

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Beautiful view of our beautiful city Montreal

 

After we had finished our photo shoot, I was so excited to get home, and to get into a shower and do nothing for the rest of the day. Donald, my amazingly, surprising fantastic boyfriend tells me that we’re only halfway there, and we have 1.3 kilometers to go. I told him he was funny and then started to walk home. He gave me the same face as Greta gave me an hour earlier. I then chased a squirrel, and proceeded to fake my second asthma attack. It didn’t work. We trekked up, and I literally counted every single one of my steps, counting down until it was over. My walking companion was fantastic, but honestly, the amount of fit people that I saw there, made me sick and really uncomfortable. Also, it was like -10, I was wearing a blanket and I was sweating like a horse. Do horses sweat? I don’t know, but if they did, I was sweating like one.  After another half hour, we FINALLY made it to the top of the mountain. Two Jews, on Easter checking out a huge Cross at the top of Montreal, that’s what we did this weekend!

When it came time to go home and we started our walk down the hill, I was already two snacks overdue, and I saw some people BBQ’ing. Donald told me it wasn’t right to walk over and ask for some hot dogs.

The rest of the way home, I complained of a backache, only because I wanted a massage, but D wouldn’t give in. Rude. I’m just happy we completed the whole thing. I would have been a lot more depressed if I would have sat on a bench all morning.

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A Little Bit Of Honesty


I guess I haven’t really been honest in a while. I sit and talk about how difficult it is to lose weight, and how the scale hasn’t moved in a while. I also blast people for accusing me of “taking the easy way out” and to be honest, I’ve been using the surgery as the easy way out for the last little while. At the beginning the pounds would just come shedding off, and then I got used to it. The more used to it I got, the less motivation I had to work out, and eat right. Sounds shocking, I know.I guess I’d figured, like most people who know nothing about the surgery, that I didn’t need to eat right or go to the gym.

 

I stopped posting my monthly weight loss because I’m embarrassed. I stopped posting in general because I haven’t really done anything inspiring or amazing in the last little while. If I’m not honest with myself, then the weight won’t come off! So here’s this weeks honesty:

– I used to do Crossfit once a week. My excuse that I don’t go more is because it’s too expensive. Truth is, I can easily get a membership to Crossfit. If I subtract two monthly meals at restaurants, that pays for the membership

– I hardly go to the gym anymore. I have the membership. My excuse was that I had my puppy, Genius to go home and take care of, however, now that Ronnie Ginger adopted him back from me, I can go to the gym as much as I want whenever I want.

– I eat all day. Grazing is the biggest problem for me. I need something to do that stimulates me. Instead of eating snacks, and nibbling on my fingers, I need to come up with a new activity to keep me from grazing all day. I’m not hungry, I do it out of pure boredom.

From this point on, I will be completely brutally honest. I know that I can lose the last 40 pounds. It’s up to me to get past my stupid excuses and move on from them. Excuses are what made me fat, and what will keep me fat.

No Pain, No Gain (Well, Hopefully No Weight Gain)


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So, I know I said I was all for going to the gym. However, the fact that my legs feel like I got attacked by an obese baby elephant, isn’t exactly making me want to go to the gym anymore. I get up from my desk at work looking like I have a bowling ball shoved up my butt and I am constantly getting stares. It’s cool, while you were sitting on your couch watching TV, I was out getting my ass kicked in Crossfit. Anyway, I decided that I will not go to the gym tonight. I physically cannot move, no, like actually. I cannot move. I need to be wheeled around, because otherwise my spaghetti legs will give out on me and I will be on the floor within seconds.  I really don’t want to injure myself so that I won’t go to the gym for another month after. I’m being proactive; let’s just go with that.

As much as I hate this pain, and as much as I want to slice my legs off myself, I know that in the end, I will have hotter legs than anyone else out there, and I ultimately don’t want to get rid of them, because that’s always been the one “skinny” thing about me. This excruciating pain is magnificent and I never thought I would say this, but I kind of LOVE it. I just keep thinking back to what I did. I did those gym classes that you see those crazy fit weight lifters doing on YouTube, I am so proud of myself. Fat Hillary would have never done anything like that. Well, she would have watched the YouTube videos while eating a bag of chips, but that’s about it.

I’m contemplating putting an ad on Craigslist right now for someone to come over and rub my thighs.

Helga, Helga, Go Away!


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It’s time for Helga to go away and to never come back. Her funeral will be held tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. RIP big girl.

Helga is driving me up the wall and all she wants to do is to sabotage my life. I swear, if she bugs me one more time to walk to the kitchen, I’m going to slap the fat out of her. People look at me in public because I’m always yelling at her; maybe I shouldn’t have stopped my crazy pills. But that’s a discussion for another day.

It’s not that I’m hungry, or that I’m bored. I really don’t know what it is. Helga tells me to eat, so I do. I still sometimes forget that I was surgified, and Doctor removed my stomach. Sometimes I wish I would just have more control. It’s so hard to just wake up one morning and just give up your love for food. That just doesn’t happen in the real world. I am so envious of all these healthy fit people who post their Instagram and Pinterest pictures about how healthy they are, and look at their abs. Good for you, but b!@#, I’m jealous. I know I’ve lost over 40 pounds, but I’ve been at the same place for almost three weeks, and can’t seem to get out of that evil number that haunts my dreams. I want to stand up to Helga and tell her to eff off because she does nothing for me, but keep me in the same sad fat place I’ve been for a long time.

I just wish I could break that evil number and just get on with my life. Helga, you are not wanted. Let me do this on my own.

Hefty Helga Goes For A Run


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Yesterday, I decided to play a sick April Fools joke on myself, and start exercising for the first time since last year. I thought it would be a good idea to get my lazy boney butt off the couch and get ready for a serious workout. Before I continue, I must reiterate that my last workout was in November of 2012. So I get my cool super tight pants on, a loose shirt and a headband to make me look ultra sporty. I grab my gym membership and RUN out the door to get to the gym. When I get to the gym, my fat, sweaty hand touches the door handle to walk in to the 7:00pm Zumba class, and I’m having a really hard time opening the door. “Helga, you idiot” I say to myself, the gym is closed! Now, Helga would have normally taken this opportunity to stop at every fast food joint on the way home to get a little taste test of everything going on in the city. But Healthier me said, let’s go for a run! I started running, and really struggling, but I kept going, and when the streets staring going uphill, I  promised myself that I wouldn’t stop. I kept running, and running, and thirty minutes later, I reached my house.

I don’t care who saw me, or how bad I looked. All I know is that I got a great workout. My arms were flailing everywhere, my shirt kept lifting up and everyone was able to see my tire, and I probably sounded like a dying seal with every loud thumping sprint I made, but either way, I was still proud.

I got home, and had to take a breather. Literally, I needed to breathe, because I was having an asthma attack. I called Ronnie, she just laughed and told me she was proud of me for running and that I would be fine. I tried to call Donald, but he was out with Mr and Mrs. Cho Sr. for dinner, probably eating some yummy food that I was probably upset I didn’t get to have. I started wheezing and tried to make music with it. Literally, I sang row row row your boat with my wheezes, it was very instrumental and a moving piece.  I thought ice cream might help, but it didn’t, and then a shower, but that didn’t help either. I was all out of asthma pumps, and I was lying in bed like a lonely soul making seal sounds with my failing lungs.

I’m all better now, and I have this crazy burst of energy to go out and do something fun! Gym only opens tomorrow, so I guess it’s another Richard Simmons night for me tonight!

Put It Down Fat Girl


My gym membership finally came back into effect today. YAY! Not. What a sick April Fools joke.   Fat girl inside me still feels lazy and doesn’t want to go. I know I have to, but I don’t want to. But I need to, because I don’t want flabby skin forever. Once I go, I know I’ll get all this crazy energy, and want to go all the time. I’m kind of also excited that I’ll get to be one of the “normal sized” people in class. I think I’ll be able to last a lot longer in class and won’t come up with as many excuses to not go to classes. Speaking of fat girl, let’s give her a name; how about Hefty Helga. It’s not nice to just call her fat girl, right?

This weekend, after some much needed alone time, I found myself looking in the fridge; saying hello to snacks and ice creams. As I pick up a spoon to eat my delicious looking ice cream frozen yogurt,I look down at my jumbotron stomach, and say “put it down fat girl”. Healthier Hillary decided that it would be the right thing to put the ice cream weapon down and take advantage of this time to herself. I got this sudden burst of energy, and moved all my furniture to one end of my apartment. I put on some running shoes, a large sweatband and turn on a Richard Simmons tape. Thirty minutes of Sweatin’ To The Oldies later, I look over out my window, and I notice this nice but creepy rapist-looking fellow staring at me, you know the kind with like the creepy moustache and the big rapist glasses? (I’m sure his name was Raymond or something creepy like that). It was way creepy and I should totally invest in some blinds.  I still don’t know whether I should take Raymonds intense gaze as a compliment or as a totally creepy gesture. Either way, is it wrong if I said I liked it?

Also, this weekend, I found my two favorite chocolate bars together to make one delicious mouth watering treat. DAIRY MILK BUBBLE BARS. I almost peed myself when I saw this. I went to the store and started sniffing the packaging. I will admit I got a few stares, but so what? I realized how much of a douche I looked like, and yelled at Helga to put it down. I don’t need you chocolate, we’re over.

The scale was nice to me the next morning, so I think Ricky Simmons and I are going to be best friends. My new weight loss trick is to stick a picture of Hefty Helga on the fridge. Every time I go to grab a treat, I’ll be reminded of how I don’t want to be that girl anymore.