Telling myself the truth

I made the scary decision to take a peek at the scale sitting in the bathroom to see what evil things it has to say about me. It had been months since I last checked it, so I was hoping to see some improvement (not that I put in any work to improve my weight). After all going to community college this semester should have been the time for me to finally crack down and do this for my health. I was dismayed to see that an additional 7 pounds had crept up like a thief in the night. Not to mention that missed my last yearly physical with my doctor, who I am avoiding like the plague, because I don’t want to hear the cold hard truth. I AM FAT. There, I said it, a word that we don’t ever want to hear because of the negative connotations behind it. We prefer terms like chubby or tubby or any other cutesy rhyming euphemisms. It is actually a bit more liberating to hear the true word because it fully illustrates the situation.

I have always been “chubby” my whole life, with chunky cheeks and a big tummy that my relatives loved to squish. I have always had legs that my mom so lovingly called chicken drumsticks because my big thighs are right over my skinnier lower legs and tiny ankles. I was in the funny in between kind of chubbiness that none of my peers at school mocked me for like they did to kids much bigger than me. Surprisingly this did not make me feel any better, because I still felt like a whale especially when I hit middle school, the time that a lot of people can agree weren’t all that fun for one’s self esteem. I finally caught a break in 10th grade when my parents were in the process of divorce and I randomly lost a good bit of weight which lead to compliments left and right from everybody. I was just shocked and it never felt real. Just as quickly as the weight disappeared 30 pounds crept up sometime starting from the end of 10th grade to 12th grade. Now my  compliments turned to concern again but I wasn’t fazed since I always felt fat, even when I was getting attention for my weight loss.

Then freshman year of college happened, and boy is freshman 15 real ( actually more like 20-25 for me) in a short time those late night pizza runs, unlimited soda, and stress induced naps took a toll on my body. I kept promising myself during that I start going to the gym, or start eating salads, and saying no more often when my roommates wanted to go get fried chicken or burgers. Eventually the weight stopped climbing, but I made no effort to make it go down. So here I am now as a sophomore at community college, one that promised herself that she would get a gym membership, eat vegetables, limit bread consumption. Basically I made grand claims that worked for only a bit and now I’m back up with an additional 7 pounds to my name, leaving me with a grand total of 60 pounds overweight for my age and height (according to health professionals on the internet). Now where do I go from here? I looked around my room dismayed to see 2 soda cans sitting on my night stand, some chocolate wrappers etc. My backpack has been home to some wrappers not to mention my purse, and I am stupidly confused. No wonder I feel so sluggish and still gain so much weight despite skipping lunch some days and walking at least 15 minutes 5 days a week for class (if that counts). It’s dumb to realize it now but its all that mindless eating that I do when stressed taking a toll on my health.

There is a resolution somewhere in this sob story after all. I realized that there a several things I have all wrong about the situation. First of all I will not get anywhere if I keep focusing on the numerical value of my weight. If I keep reminding myself about the daunting 60 pound gap between me and some sort of perceived health status I will never get better. Next this gym thing isn’t happening so I have no idea why I keep lying to myself, I hate the isolating feeling of just running on a treadmill or something.  The same goes for salads, they aren’t the magical key to the slim waist and flat abs. What I need to do first is slowly kick my sweets habit and find another outlet for my stress (like writing). So how do I get exercise if I don’t go to the gym? I’m a student with free resources that I don’t use like physical education classes that count as a college credit (which i’ll go to because I can’t stand the idea of getting a bad grade in anything). Obviously the process will not be as simple as I have portrayed it here (or will it?) but I feel a little better about being more conscious. Until then I will say goodbye to my beloved vending machine.




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