Of course, inspiration to write a post hits at 2:15 in the morning when I really need to be sleeping. Really, Rachel, really? Anyway, this post is about weight. Yeup, I said it. In the last couple weeks, I've stumbled upon various blogs. Fat acceptance, inspirational weight loss journeys, gals who are heavy and are taking the plunge to get healthy, etc.
If you know me, I am VERY indecisive. My mind changes a mile a minute. I always see two sides to everything (That's why I'm not a good person to argue with or make core decisions...I may sound like I'm contradicting myself when in reality, I'm not), but I'm really trying to give an answer for all sides. Anyways, my mind changes about weight all the time. I am at the highest weight I've been my entire life. I was skinny when I was little. I had a small body, tiny waist and I certainly was NOT big boned.
Somehow, some event in my life triggered me towards food. Not sure when or what caused this, but it did. It became my best friend. And it still is! When most kids were losing their baby fat, I was gaining mine and then some. When I hit middle school, I was 207 pounds. Granted, I was super tall, so I didn't look that ridiculous, and I was still wearing decent sized clothing. In high school, I was a size 18. I was super duper self conscious then, when I really shouldn't have been. I was a bit heaver than the average girl. But in high school, to everyone, I was considered fat. I hated myself. I hated going to school and being around a bunch of skinny blonde bimbos with no morals and a crap ton of self esteem. I decided to layer myself up with hoodies and never look cute...Until senior year. I still was the same weight, but I decided to shed my hoodies and wear more feminine clothing. As that year went on and I moved on to college, I began gaining a sense of style and acceptance of my body.
I still had my moments of dread and hatred towards myself, but I started to embrace it, because it was apart of me and I knew I had to deal. I eventually got fed up and joined Weight Watchers. I was around 245 pounds when I did that. I thought I looked disgusting then and couldn't bare to look at myself any longer. I dropped around 30 or so pounds and ended up nearing my middle school weight. I was stoked, happy and loved myself again. I was a size 16 and could fit in Gap jeans (God, do I miss those).
But even though I felt great and looked good, I missed food. I wasn't for portion control and depriving myself of the things I honestly enjoyed. So I gained it back. And then another 30 pounds. That was something I didn't want to happen, but knew it was a risk when I went on a diet. I felt lost again, unhappy with my looks. But I knew I had to deal with it, because I loved food more than how I looked. I loved having the freedom to eat what I wanted and not to spend countless hours at the gym.
Then my dad got cancer. This girl does not handle bad news well. At all. I'm not the type to be all "Woe is me", so I dealt with my issues alone. I hated life so much when he got sick. I didn't care. I did things I never once believed in, I lost a lot of hope for life and myself. Because of my carless actions, weight began to climb and climb and climb. My dad soon passed on and I lost it. I couldn't handle life like I used to. Any stressful situation sent me off the edge. So again, food was my ally and man, it would never let me down.
Fast forward to now. Now, I'm far beyond that 245 that I once was (and thought was horrid). I'm beyond feeling pretty and comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I did in high school. Some days, I get so inspired from reading fat acceptance blogs that I feel good in my skin and say "Fuck it, this is who I am and I need to accept that." Then the majority of those days, I just feel down. But above all, I really don't care anymore. I feel that if I try to lose this weight again, it'll only send me deeper into weight gain that I know I can't get out of it. I really want to become healthy. Do I want to be skinny? No, I really don't. I just want to be healthy and happy. I just want to be able to go into my favorite clothing stores again and be able to get my size jeans without a problem. I want to not have terrible back pain anymore and be able to feel more energy and life.
But I'm scared. I'm scared that I won't or can't commit to this huge event and that I'll only send myself deeper into weight gain. I'm scared that I'll have to live my entire life on a treadmill and eating salads (even though the are delish!). I don't like being confined to something, I don't like being told what I can or cannot do. I don't like the feeling of living in a jail cell with no key. But I don't like how I feel now either. I'm so lost between what I want to do and what I should do. I see so many gals lose this weight, only to gain it back. So then, what was the point? You're endangering your body so much by dieting and then gaining back the weight, only to diet again.
Right now I just feel trapped. I want to lose the weight but I'm afraid I won't, or if I do, it'll come back (which I'm sure it will). Maybe I just need to buck up and lose it and just maintain a healthy lifestyle the rest of my life. Get used to working out and let it become a routine instead of something I dread. Or, perhaps I should just stop feeling bad for myself and deal with my body. Why do I have to make certain life decisions so hard? The easy thing to say would to lose it and be done with it, but it's never that easy. I guess this post is more of a personal vent above anything else. I'm kind of at a loss for what to do. I want to lose the weight, I'm just scared. Being scared is what's holding me back, essentially. Perhaps I'll get that big dose of confidence and just do what I should do and see where it takes me. Yeah, that sounds good...