Fat Girl Slim (part 3)...the final chapter

So I pose the question again, do I really only get fit when there is a huge event like a wedding? Here I am on my fourth wedding. It is one of the happiest occasions because it is the wedding of my long time best friend. Here I am busting ass in the gym last minute thinking I'm going to bust out some miracle body in about 2.5 months. I don't really think it's weddings that make me want to shed this fat. I think, I know what I really want to shed is the "fat girl" mentality. I want to shed the fat little girl who hid the hurt those words that broke her heart when she was five-years-old. So in about the 2-4 years it took me to lose 40 pounds from high school, it took me about 4 years to gain those 40 pounds back. It is easier to discuss my dress size than to truly state my weight. I am back at a size 14. I swore I'd never get here again. I more importantly swore not to go back to my old size of 18 and I haven't. I weigh more than I look. I weigh more than the size I am. I gained my fat back. I truly believe that I gained my weight back to learn to love myself. I didn't love myself. I haven't loved myself. I stopped weighing myself and I stopped stressing about my size. I just started living. I knew I couldn't and wouldn't shed 40 pounds in 2 days. I just wanted to love myself. I forced myself to look at my face in the mirror. I forced myself to face myself each and every day. I forced myself to love the person I truly was. I was not stick thin and I never will be. Focusing on my smile or my eyes helped me to see past the size of my jeans or the number on the scale. There is a lot of negative words and memories in my head and in every scar upon my heart. However, I have made it my mission for the past two years to bandage and heal every one of those wounds. It sounds like a cop out or an excuse but I truly had to gain my weight back and love myself as I was, heavy or not. For one of the very first times in my life I felt comfortable in my own skin. I started dating and even in spite of my size or how I felt before I was beautiful. I realized that real men, men worth my time cared more about what size I was. I started going back to the gym not because I wanted to look like a girl in a magazine but because I wanted to be healthy. I started eating better because I didn't want to inherit all the illnesses that run in my family. I decided I wanted to live a long happy life. I know I need to take care of me. I am important. People care about me. More importantly I care about me. I made a new year's resolution last about two years ago now. I told myself I was going to face all my fears. I promised myself I was going to do all the things I was afraid of. A friend of mine mentioned this 5k she and her husband and some friends were going to do. She made it sound fun. It was a mud run. It was a 3 mile run with obstacle courses in a lot of mud. Her cheery voice said, "you should do it with us!!" I didn't think twice and blurted out the words, "I'm in!!" When I hung up I freaked out. Running??? I don't run!! In fact my running joke is, "I only run if I'm being chased, after a man, for a sale or after food..." Don't even get me started on mud!!! I have hated dirt since birth. I was the kid who's mom forced me to make mud pies. I didn't get dirty. I was a prissy little girl who hated getting dirty and things hadn't changed. What the hell was I going to do now?? I couldn't back down because I promised myself to face my fears. In this mud run were three fears-running, mud and failure. More than anything I couldn't fail my friends. I had to face these fears. If I lived to tell about it. So I made up my mind. I started walking, then jogging, soon running. I found myself actually looking forward to it. I was horrible at my breathing. I was always out of breath and struggling but I did it. Finally the big day arrived. I didn't know what to expect. We took off running and I was scared and excited all at once. We made our way to the first mud pit and I remember screaming as I found myself boob deep in a huge mud pit, everyone running past me. I realized I was dirty. A funny memory now. I recall my friend's little voice calling me, "come on!! You can do it!!!" I kept running and running. At times I couldn't breathe and I wanted to quit. I tried my best at the obstacles and ran past others. The entire time she and her husband cheered me on. She never left me. She didn't give up on me. She knew I had it in me the entire time. When I fell she picked me up. Before I knew it the entire dirty, grueling experience was over and we all finished together. It was surreal. I couldn't believe I had done that. I felt exhausted and exhilarated all in one. Today that same friend is still encouraging me. She sends me motivating texts and sends her diet recipes. It's hard sometimes because I struggle still with my weight. However, having supportive friends like her make all the difference. She doesn't see me any different. She doesn't call me names. She's been my friend fat and thin, thin and fat. She's been one of the few working hard along side me to help me get back on my goal. This year I took up the challenge of the very same mud run. This time I became the leader. I organized a team of many wonderful women. I was the only one who did the run before. I still was not the best runner but I was not going to let down my team. More importantly I couldn't let myself down. I trained harder this year. I ran more. I've done a lot more. I've kept about 20 pounds off. That is just the beginning. I motivated myself by motivating others. The day came fast. I was very nervous and very excited. I was terrified I couldn't do it. I was worried I'd let my team down and they'd be disappointed. Yet again I found myself surrounded by support and love. This year the course was extremely hard. It was harder than the year before. I made it through the first mud pit holding onto one of my teammates. I ran and kept running, the first mile seemed like eternity. I was struggling to breathe. I started having an asthma attack. I struggled up hill far behind my teammates. Inside the little fat girl was dying. Inside the little fat girl from kidnergarten was crying. She wanted to quit. Then from up the hill I could hear my team cheering me on. I pushed harder. They waited for me. One yelling, "we're a team, we finish together!!" Soon I made it past the first mile and it was ok. We came up to a hurdle I wanted to skip but I threw myself over. My teammates cheered loudly. We all cheered on each other. I pushed on. We came to a water slide. I chickened out dude to my inept swimming. A few of us looked on waiting for our girls to slide into the water hole. Soon we were all together running once again. And and on. It was the hardest 3.9 miles trecking through tar pits and huge rocks and crawling and falling. The end seemed like it would never come. I stopped once to figure out how I'd continue. I wanted to cry. I wanted to quit. Yet I didn't. It was just me and another girl. We were stuck and lost our shoes stuck in the tar. We cheered each other on. We ran barefoot over rocks and mud puddles. We kept on. I never tasted a victory so sweet. I came to the last mud pit. I tried and tried to climb but kept slipping down. The fat girl inside said, "No more!! We're done!!" And then I reached up and attempted to climb. A stranger grabbed me and pushed me up from behind. Another reached out her hand to mine. "You're not quitting now!! You're almost there!! You can't quit now!! You've gone so far!! You're almost there!!" They proceeded to encourage me. Sure enough I found the strength to get over that hill and down into the very last mud pit. I was reunited with my team and we screamed with joy. We linked arms and ran through the finish line together. Again I felt that surreal feeling. I couldn't believe I did it, a second time. I finished more obstacles than the last year. I was forced to try harder. I found strength again and again. I survived. I am still on a high from this past weekend. I feel so accomplished. To some people it was just a 5k, a mere almost 4 miles. It was dirty fun. I have the scars and bruises on my body to tell you that it was some butt busting work. It's the hardest I've worked in a good while. I feel like there is nothing I can't do. I have a lot of hurdles to climb; such is life. However, I know that I have a lot of people reaching out hands and pushing me over each hurdle. This time I'm losing weight for me. I'm working hard for me. I'm working hard because I want to be healthy. I want to be strong. I want to have a body that can push me faster and harder over hills, up climbs, in dirty, at all costs and all times. I want to do things I never thought I could do. It's take me a long time to realize that my looks and my dress size are just superficial. They do not tell you the resilience of my heart and my mind. They do not tell you that I am a strong person. They are just numbers. This is the final part of my journey as Fat Girl Slim. You have seen the short version of my life as a woman who's struggled with her weight and how she looks. You have glimpsed just a mere portion of the pain the word fat can cause. More than anything I hope you have glimpsed the warrior that lives inside someone that has been broken. I hope that "Fat Girl Slim" inspires you not to give up on yourself. I hope that you take the time to love yourself. Loving yourself is hard work. The journey and the work never ends. Anything is possible. If someone isn't loving you right. Just let go and love yourself. Work on you. When you can't get over the last hurdle take the hand of someone who is cheering you on. This is the final chapter because I won't be ruled by the damaged fat girl I was in kindergarten.

Fat Girl Slim (part 2)

Now in my first part of fat girl slim I revealed some of my self esteem and body image issues. This, Fat Girl Slim part 2 is my deep seeded issues unraveled.... At 18 years old I started taking better care of myself. I started college and started taking classes like cardio kickboxing. I started losing weight and being healthier. I went from my old size 18 to a size 16 and was in that size for a good bit. I had discovered that I had a hips and nice curvy butt. I had never thought my butt was really a big deal but all my friends made a big deal about it. I started to embrace that and embrace my curves. My freshman year in college flew by and soon it was summer. I met this guy, someone I had seen a few times before. I had a really huge crush on him. I thought he was so hot. However, I could never fathom a guy like him wanting a chunky girl like me. He was kind of tall with a tanned athletic body. I remember my friend telling me, "oh you're going to like him. He's buff and he's bald and he's got piercings. I remember the first time I met him. I could barely get the words out to say hello. I was caught between my girlhood on the verge of real womanhood. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I started dating this guy. I was amazed he even gave me a second look. I had had a crush on him since I was like 17. He was some guy that I didn’t think would ever be interested in me. He was pretty athletic. He was handsome and had a killer body. I never thought a guy like that would look at me. So when he seemed interested in me I ran with it. I realize now I put this guy on a pedestal right off the bat. That was really wrong of me but I digress. In the beginning he made me feel so attractive. I felt comfortable with him. He was always kissing me and always all over me. It was clear he wanted me. I thought that was enough affirmation for me to feel like I was actually desirable at my weight and size. Eventually though after we had been dating for a long while, it came out that he was “concerned about my health”. He said,"why don't we go to the gym together. I can help you reach your goal." I didn't think much of it at the time. He wanted to be a trainer and I completely trusted in him. I joined the gym and he became my unofficial "trainer". At first it was great. I had a partner to work out with and a great boyfriend. I was thinking it was going to be great. It was really great for awhile. I had a pretty good schedule as a student and not working full time. I started going to the gym two-three times a week. I was eating better and growing stronger. I started seeing results. In about two years I went from size 16 to size 11 almost 10 and I was in the best shape of my life. So what was the problem?? I couldn't eat in front of my boyfriend now turned trainer. If he saw me put butter on vegetables he'd tear into me. If I said I had a scoop of ice cream he'd make me feel bad. He had a secret stash of magazines and pictures of girls on his computer. They all had huge butts and tiny everything else. He used to tell me I could look like that and I could model. I became more obsessed with car models and video vixens and XXL magazine than I had ever been obsessed. It started hitting me, he didn't want me the way I was, he never did. However, I also told myself he cared about my health. I soon became obsessed with working out. I worked out more than I studied. I obsessed about what I ate and what I didn't eat. I did everything I could to be that fantasy girl. He would tell me how hot I looked and how beautiful I was. I just wanted to stay that way. I tried so hard. I didn't realize I was trying for him not for me. I became about what he wanted not what I really wanted. I truly always wanted to have a curvy, sexy body. I always did. What I didn't realize was that the "fat girl" from kindergarten still lived deep inside me. I looked in the mirror and I saw myself huge. I didn't see a size 10 girl I saw a size 20 girl. I didn't see beautiful, I saw hideous. I didn't see myself at my goal. I couldn't even really be happy that I had accomplished my goal. All I kept thinking was I was fat. I had to lose more. I had to look better than this girl and that girl. I truly did learn to love working out in that time. He taught me all the things I needed to become the fit woman I wanted to be. He also turned me into a hot mess. This is how I initially became Fat Girl Slim. It first started with me wanting to lose weight and I did it. Eventually it became this thing, this monster. I became lost in this guy. I knew more about him than I knew about myself. I knew what he wanted but couldn't tell anyone else what it was that I wanted. I saw myself as a 400 pound girl who didn't fit with this athletic guy. I felt like we didn't look right together, like everyone was staring. I never stopped to realize how great I looked or how much more beautiful I was because I was too busy not eating and running until I was practically passing out on cardio machines. I woke up and worked out. I worked out before bed. I woke myself up in the middle of the night to work out. And as I sit here and write this I swallow hard and wipe the tears at the memory of the lost girl I had become. Eventually the relationship ended; he ended it. Even though he said it was because we didn't have a healthy relationship anymore among other things, I convinced myself that it was because I was not thin enough; I was not beautiful. Why?? Well because even though he had become the love of my life and had his good moments he was also the same guy who told me which friends of mine he'd hook up with. He told me which friends of mine were hot. He always let me know he was looking at some other girl that had something I didn't. So when he ended it that became the reason for me. At first I worked continuously hard on myself. I tried to keep up the hard work I had put in. I tried partly because it helped preoccupy my mind. The other reason was because I believed I could look twenty times better and make him feel bad. However, it didn't work. I hated being at the gym because it reminded me of him and well I couldn't stand running into him. It wasn't so hard at first keeping up with my workouts and eating healthy. I was still in college. It was my last year and I had a strong group of friends I could work out with and keep my mind occupied. I tried. I didn't try hard enough. I soon began consuming myself with partying. When I wasn't out I was in my room, lying around, depressed. It really isn't a big deal but when you're depressed the last thing you want to do is be in a gym. More importantly the last thing you should do is hit the clubs. Eventually the constant drinking and the late night eating caught up to me. It took a while but it caught up to me. The day I couldn't button my skinny shorts I freaked out. However, it didn't stop me. I just bought bigger clothes. And I got sick a few times and that helped me lose weight. I was on a cheerio and soup diet purely because I was sick but kept doing it after because it got me skinny fast. I couldn't outrun my old self. I couldn't out run the old habits. I stopped caring about me. I stopped caring about the work I put into my body. I figured if he didn't care then I didn't care either. I started slacking off at the gym. I stopped eating healthy. I just stopped. I stopped caring. I didn't care at all. In a two years time I found myself in a friend's wedding. That wedding became my kick in the ass to lose weight. I couldn't fit in the dress. I couldn't believe the size. I was so upset. I couldn't believe I had let my weight start creeping back up. In that time I also bumped into the old flame a few times. One time he saw me he widened his eyes and commented that I had gotten really big, which made me want to throw up especially when he then proceeded to hit on me after that insult. Once more he told me that when I was with him I was the hottest I'd ever been. Another time I pretended to be happy and on my workout routine. I proudly said I was going to be in a wedding. He sharply questioned, “So what you only lose weight and get fit when there’s a wedding?” It stung. It struck a note. Did I really lose weight just for weddings? I was starting to think that it was true. After the wedding I lost track of my goals and stopped the working out. I went back to the eating and drinking whatever. I went to the gym like once a month if that. I wore gym clothes more to chill in than I actually wore them because I needed to. Did I really only lose weight when I needed to? I felt so disgusting. I felt like a huge fat failure....