Moving In


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So, I realize that I have been absent for a while. While many might think that I have been busy stuffing my face with fried chicken, I have actually been busy in a new chapter in my life. Donald and I have decided to move in together. We signed our names on that paper (pretty much signing our lives away) and now we’re big fat roommates. This last few weeks has been hard on us, and I’ve turned to food for comfort. Which I know is totally wrong, but I’m admitting that I have a problem and I’m dealing with it- I threw out the frozen yogurt, and I’m only snacking on cucumber.  It seems as though Donald and I are mini fashionista interior decorators, and we didn’t even know about it. Our ideas have been clashing, thus leading to fights every five minutes. While I feel bad about it, it’s better that we fight now, than when we’re living together, right? We’re just going to get it all out now, because from this point, he’s pretty much stuck with me forever. We picked the most beautiful couch, ever! It’s a sectional, it’s gorgeous, and there’s a perfect little corner that will have my butt imprinted in it within 4 weeks of moving in to our new place. Speaking of couches, how come no one ever tells you how expensive a couch is when you’re a child? Like seriously, a couch is a serious expense, I had no idea. I feel broke just looking at couches.

While I know this is a good thing, to be moving in together, I’m also a little nervous; and rightfully so…I’ll have to start cooking for two now. I usually cook for just one, and I love having leftovers. I’m not good at sharing.  I’ve given myself mini nightmares, wondering how I’m supposed to share my delicious leftover crock pot recipes? Donald doesn’t usually like my crock pot creations; but I think this is mostly because of the reason that it comes out of a crock pot, and he thinks crock pots are weird. I think crock pots are genius inventions for the lazy. Also, another worry, is sharing the bathroom. I’ve lived with other people before, and sharing a bathroom is never fun. Now, I’ll be sharing one with a boy. I don’t mean to be rude to Donald and all, but his poop does not smell anywhere near the smell of roses. Sorry D! My Donald has very expensive taste, when it comes to furniture and home furnishings; and also when it comes to food. Maybe we’ll keep our fridge stocked with caviar and tongue and like some sort of pig meat and then I won’t want to eat any snacks when I’m sitting at home on the couch like a lazy slob.

At the end of the day, I am so excited to be moving in with my best friend. I get to move out of my first floor dungeon apartment, I get to have a sleepover every night, I get someone to wash the dishes (well I got a dishwasher, and the dishwasher is my new special someone). I have someone to play Scrabble with, rather than playing with my random Mexican friend Jorge at 3:00am (does he really know what a terrawatt is, or did he just Google that in the scrabble dictionary, because that is cheating, sir!) I’m so happy for this new adventure with my best friend!

 

 

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The Scale: My Hate Relationship


 

 

I’ve stopped my affair with the scale. I don’t understand how one plastic box which displays numbers, can do so much harm! I love that little plastic box, but at the same time I hate it. When my little unpolished toes step on that box of fun, I can’t wait to see the number! Once my eyes set eyes on the scale, and I see that I’ve lost two pounds, my body goes into fat girl mode and decides that it’s time to binge. I know, “two pounds are wonderful, why would you want to sabotage that?”, first of all,  whoever is actually thinking that, you need to seriously shut up- because it’s not like I got on the scale and was all giddy and excited to eat like a fat horse. My plan isn’t to regain everything that I had just lost. I can’t control it. Most of the time when I eat, I’m not hungry. It’s an addiction. Yes, call me crazy, and fat, or just crazy fat but people can be addicted to food! Food is there, so I eat it. You can’t tell an alcohol addicted meth head that they have to stop all their bad habits in an instant. It takes time, and learning. While I know it’s already been seven months since surgery, I still struggle with my addiction, daily. It’s too bad they don’t make rehab for fat people who struggle from food addictions. I strongly believe that people on the outside truly believe that we fat people choose to eat ourselves sick, and to binge eat. It’s not like that, I can promise you that. While I know Hefty Helga has died, part of her still lives on in my mind, and will forever.

It’s so hard to be addicted to something that we are subjected to everyday. We need food to survive, and it’s everywhere I go! No matter how much I try to walk away from food, it surrounds me; whether it comes from passing the vending machine,  or hearing the disgustingly loud people around me chewing like horses etc. I’m supposed to train myself, and to learn that food is for eating, and not an activity to take up when I am bored. Do I really want to be that girl one day who introduces herself and says “Oh Hello, I’m Hillary. Nice to meet you. I’m a professional eater. What do you do?” Like seriously.  As sick as it sounds, sometimes I wish I had another addiction. Maybe being addicted to some of those Breaking Bad drugs wouldn’t be the greatest thing for me, or my teeth, but maybe it would make me forget about food. Food really doesn’t make me feel anything. I used to feel satisfied during and after binge eating, but now I find myself feeling sad, and depressed after I’ve eaten something I know I shouldn’t.

One thing I’ve started doing, is making new friends. I’ve made new friends with my stomach. After I eat something I shouldn’t, I lift up my shirt, and stare at the scars. I look at the scars, which help me in reminding myself how I got here, and what I plan to accomplish. Eating a bag of chips won’t help in shrinking those scars, eating because I’m bored in general won’t help shrink the scars. The only thing that will help shrink the surgery scars, is me. Chips, chocolate, cookies, ice cream etc, are all parts of my life that really have no place there. They are not wanted, and there is no need for it. I’ve told myself so many times; “Eat to live, don’t live to eat”, it’s so easy to say it, but so hard to do.

And for the five hundredth, and hopefully last time, I say this: No More Excuses. I get on the scale, and I be proud that I’ve accomplished a two pound weight loss. I get on that scale, and instead of marching my fat bottom to the fridge, I walk it out the door, and for a walk (not to the ice cream store).

 

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.

I Can Share Clothes


Yesterday was our family pool party. It was amazing, and I’ve never felt more like the center of attention. My lovely mom was especially friendly to me, especially since she told me that I looked so skinny, and that my skin was so loose. She then dragged me around each and every person to feel my loose skin, to reassure me that it was great and I was doing amazing. Thanks mom!

Another accomplishment, was that I fit into my younger cousins shorts! At first Marla tried to offer me Juanita-Lauritas shorts, which were maybe about ten sizes too small, but then she let me wear hers, and that felt like the biggest accomplishment of all! Ok, before we go all crazy, it wasn’t some fancy jean short type thing with buttons or zippers, yes they were stretchy, and stretchy is my best friend. Ronnie Ginger gave me this face after I came downstairs wearing short shorts, and without giving her usual face, she just said five words that I’ll never forget, that keep sticking with me: “How good does that feel?”. IT FEELS AMAZING! I FEEL AMAZING!

Anyway, today I feel good and slim, and like I can accomplish anything; except run a marathon because I’m really not ready for that just yet.

She’s Just Pleasantly Complaining


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I wish I understood why some people “absolutely love to work out”. Like seriously, for you people that love the brutal pain that comes with it everyday, I have a lot of questions for you. Let’s sit down and talk about it over a large bowl of chocolate brownie ice cream with whipped cream, k thanks. Last night, I went in for my weekly crossfit routine. Ugh, just thinking about it just gives me the chills. My Crossfit boyfriend (well he’s not really my boyfriend, we just have a secret love affair that no one knows about. Except it’s not really a love affair, he just pushes me to work out, and I really like the positive encouragement) is super nice to me, and really pushes me to work out as best I can. Celeste and I really get a kick out of it when he mentions that it’s not a squat unless it’s “ASS TO MAT!”. Ugh, I’m getting the chills again just thinking about last night– not in a good way. After I left class yesterday, I was so happy that I had accomplished it. Walking up the stairs was quite the challenge, but I thought that it would get better. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

So here it goes, if you will not attend an ice cream binge session with me,  I have a lot of questions for you, Gym Mice…

1) Do you like not being able to sit down on a toilet regularly? Like does it feel good when you need to hold on to the walls, and sit down slowly like you’re about to lose your legs?

2) Do you sometimes fantasize about cutting off your legs? I do. Like today. Everytime I get up, I walk like there’s a dead cat up my bum.

3) Is it normal to sweat from parts of my body that I didn’t know existed? I have found new places on my body that are very new to me. In those places, I find puddles of sweat, hope this is normal, because to be honest, I’m really not in the mood to wait in my doctors waiting room again.

Now, I know that working out is fantastic, and it really helps with the weight loss journey, HOWEVER, these three questions are specifically directed at the people who like to be in daily pain! I’m just a confuzzled ball of fat, so can someone please answer my three teeny tiny questions?

Above, was the angry fat girl complaining. Now, the healthier me is talking and damn I hate that pain but I know it’s worth it in the end. I wish I could go to Crossfit every day, but like you know, I’m not Bill Gates or anything. I’ve decided that I will start a charity for the poor, and unhealthy like me. Donations for Crossfit For The Pleasantly Plump and Pleasantly Poor , can be sent directly to me.

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.

Today Is The Fourth!


One thing I’ve realized, is that you’re not truly ready to do something until you’re ready to do it for yourself. When I started on my diets fifteen years ago, I only did them to make my mom or the rest of my family proud. It makes sense that in the end, all of these diets were sabotaged, and I ended up ballooning instead of shrinking.

From February 4th 2013, I made it my mission, that everything I did, I would do it for myself. If I wasn’t serious about doing it for myself, then it ultimately wouldn’t happen. While I love each and every persons support, and it means so much; I now realize that I’m not doing this to please other people. I am doing this to make myself happy.

I have never been more happy than I have been today. I can finally say that I love myself, that I am happy when I look in the mirror, and that I wouldn’t change a thing about me. If I had to stay where I was today, at 208 pounds, then fine; let it be. I’m healthier than I’ve been in forever, I’m happier, and I have a reason to wake up every morning.

I am tired of trying to please others. I’m happy I took the time to do it for myself, because look who’s smiling now.