WeighingScale
New member
I have been overweight for five years now; I started off merely chubby, but I’ve ventured steadily down the path of weight gain, and now I’m decidedly (and depressingly) FAT.
I’ve been through my phases: both the self-loathing-anti-social-loner-phase and the I-don’t-care-if-I-don’t-fit-patriarchal-society’s-definition-of-attractive-phase; I’ve alternated between (mostly) eating a recklessly decadent diet whilst leading a sedentary lifestyle and (rarely) starving myself to atone for my sins of gluttony and sloth.
I’ve lost ten pounds after a fortnight of starvation dieting, and gained them all back after a month of subsisting off sugar-laden sodas, cheese-slathered takeout pizza, grease-laden crisps and endless pints of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. I’ve signed up for punishing work-out sessions at my gym with the greatest of optimism, and then conjured up every excuse in my arsenal to forgo my daily fitness training lesson.
But on my twenty-first birthday recently, I realized that this needed to change. Here I am, on the threshold of adulthood, a high-performing student at one of the leading universities in the country, and yet I couldn’t be less satisfied with the direction in which I was heading. This is supposed to be the time of my life: the period during which I seize every opportunity, live out every dream and generally go about my day with youthful insouciance and spontaneity; these are the times that I’m supposed look back on with nostalgic wistfulness when I’m older. Instead, my life is frustrating lacking in these pleasures; I’m noticeably overweight, with an acne-ridden complexion and I’m also constantly tired, despite all of my tests saying that there is nothing wrong with my health.
I’m the girl who walks around in jeans and a full-sleeved t-shirt in the summers; the girl who is too painfully conscious of my body to go swimming at the beach. I’m the girl who dreads shopping because of the unflattering image that always awaits me at the changing room mirror, regardless of how expensive or exquisite the outfit I am wearing happens to be; the girl who avoids partying because I know that my body is not flattered by the dress-code that is mandatory at many clubs.
I’m the girl who is too burdened by insecurity about my appearance to flirt with boys; the girl who longs for romance, but will never allow for it to happen. I’m the girl who is simply not fit enough for all the adventures my friends are undertaking, even though I really wants nothing more than to be able to trek through mountains, run a half-marathon and go on a cross-country skiing trip herself.
I’m the girl who embarks on a night of reckless culinary indulgence and then struggles to combat the aftertaste of guilt, of knowing the family history of lifestyle diseases, and fearing that one day I too will fall victim to the same ailments.
I wish, abbove all, to stop being this girl; I want to recover my self-confidence and fall back in love with the intelligent, talented and creative girl whom I know is hiding under this armour of adipose, the girl who considered herself worthy of love, both from herself and from the handsome and charming boys whom she coveted; the girl who was the life of the party, the leader of the trek, the fearless one whom all her friends secretly admired.
I was that girl a few years (and many kilograms) ago, and I am sure she would be dismayed to see what a timid and colourless creature she has grown into; I wear shapeless, minimalistic black where she would have chosen striking coral and fuchsia and accessorized boldly; I retire into a corner when she would have instinctively assumed leadership; I spend Saturday nights at home by myself, when she would have been hosting the most talked-about party in school.
And so, I’ve promised myself that I am going to embark on a journey of transformation, starting today: a journey where I shed pounds and inches in a steady and systematic manner, but more importantly, a journey during which I regain my absconding sense of self-worth and reclaim my declining social life; a transformation during which I develop a lifestyle worth living, and build my fitness and stamina to a respectable level that will allow me to fill my days with the kind of vividly colourful, wildly adventurous memories that I can look back at one day with wistful nostalgia, and with the knowledge that I have lived fully, and without regrets.
And so, here begins my journey. Wish me luck, and share your own goals and motivations with me!
I’ve been through my phases: both the self-loathing-anti-social-loner-phase and the I-don’t-care-if-I-don’t-fit-patriarchal-society’s-definition-of-attractive-phase; I’ve alternated between (mostly) eating a recklessly decadent diet whilst leading a sedentary lifestyle and (rarely) starving myself to atone for my sins of gluttony and sloth.
I’ve lost ten pounds after a fortnight of starvation dieting, and gained them all back after a month of subsisting off sugar-laden sodas, cheese-slathered takeout pizza, grease-laden crisps and endless pints of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. I’ve signed up for punishing work-out sessions at my gym with the greatest of optimism, and then conjured up every excuse in my arsenal to forgo my daily fitness training lesson.
But on my twenty-first birthday recently, I realized that this needed to change. Here I am, on the threshold of adulthood, a high-performing student at one of the leading universities in the country, and yet I couldn’t be less satisfied with the direction in which I was heading. This is supposed to be the time of my life: the period during which I seize every opportunity, live out every dream and generally go about my day with youthful insouciance and spontaneity; these are the times that I’m supposed look back on with nostalgic wistfulness when I’m older. Instead, my life is frustrating lacking in these pleasures; I’m noticeably overweight, with an acne-ridden complexion and I’m also constantly tired, despite all of my tests saying that there is nothing wrong with my health.
I’m the girl who walks around in jeans and a full-sleeved t-shirt in the summers; the girl who is too painfully conscious of my body to go swimming at the beach. I’m the girl who dreads shopping because of the unflattering image that always awaits me at the changing room mirror, regardless of how expensive or exquisite the outfit I am wearing happens to be; the girl who avoids partying because I know that my body is not flattered by the dress-code that is mandatory at many clubs.
I’m the girl who is too burdened by insecurity about my appearance to flirt with boys; the girl who longs for romance, but will never allow for it to happen. I’m the girl who is simply not fit enough for all the adventures my friends are undertaking, even though I really wants nothing more than to be able to trek through mountains, run a half-marathon and go on a cross-country skiing trip herself.
I’m the girl who embarks on a night of reckless culinary indulgence and then struggles to combat the aftertaste of guilt, of knowing the family history of lifestyle diseases, and fearing that one day I too will fall victim to the same ailments.
I wish, abbove all, to stop being this girl; I want to recover my self-confidence and fall back in love with the intelligent, talented and creative girl whom I know is hiding under this armour of adipose, the girl who considered herself worthy of love, both from herself and from the handsome and charming boys whom she coveted; the girl who was the life of the party, the leader of the trek, the fearless one whom all her friends secretly admired.
I was that girl a few years (and many kilograms) ago, and I am sure she would be dismayed to see what a timid and colourless creature she has grown into; I wear shapeless, minimalistic black where she would have chosen striking coral and fuchsia and accessorized boldly; I retire into a corner when she would have instinctively assumed leadership; I spend Saturday nights at home by myself, when she would have been hosting the most talked-about party in school.
And so, I’ve promised myself that I am going to embark on a journey of transformation, starting today: a journey where I shed pounds and inches in a steady and systematic manner, but more importantly, a journey during which I regain my absconding sense of self-worth and reclaim my declining social life; a transformation during which I develop a lifestyle worth living, and build my fitness and stamina to a respectable level that will allow me to fill my days with the kind of vividly colourful, wildly adventurous memories that I can look back at one day with wistful nostalgia, and with the knowledge that I have lived fully, and without regrets.
And so, here begins my journey. Wish me luck, and share your own goals and motivations with me!