Here we are, July 15th, one month and a day since I made my FormerFatGirl Declaration. When I wrote the first blog, I remember being so excited, so amped up. “This is it,” I thought. “Writing this blog and sharing my story with the public is just the catalyst I need to really get my ass in gear and lose the weight.” Even after less than stellar results the first two weeks, I was still confident. Because what you didn’t know, was that I had a secret weapon tucked neatly away in my back pocket, (next to a watermelon jolly rancher in case of a sugar emergency.) It was…the cleanse. I knew that even if my efforts alone didn’t get the pounds off, I could jump on the candida cleanse and the fat would melt off like butter atop warm cornbread. (Dear cornbread, I miss you. Love, Khalilah). So, after losing zero pounds in week two, I decided it was time to pull out the back-up artillery. And last week, I started the candida cleanse.
I cut out coffee, dairy, alcohol, gluten, fruit, sugar, and all things delicious. And while, there were a few “modifications” here and there, (see last week’s post), I thought I was doing phenomenally well. Even with a day and a half of being off the cleanse because I was traveling and couldn’t take all of my supplements or eat organic, I still thought I was doing damn good. This is me after all–Miss “I don’t do diets; I eat what I want”–an admitted caffeine and sugar addict. This is the same girl who found a recipe for funnel cakes in her local paper and started making them for dessert on a regular basis…when I was 12!!! ( Told you I was a fat girl). I am a person who believes the best way to eat chicken is fried; that french fries taste best when dipped in barbecue sause and honey, and that chocolate is the key to both happiness and correcting the national deficit. And here I was, giving up the foods and beverages I love and actually sticking to it.
So I have to say, when I stepped on the scale this morning, I was eager to see what kind of results my hard work and dedication had garnered. I had been on the cleanse for about 7 days. Surely, I was going to pull a big number. Imagine my surprise, my utter bewilderment, when I looked down and saw that I had lost a mere 3 pounds. And recall, I didn’t do a weigh-in last week, so this is a after a total of 2 weeks. What in FatGirl Hell was going on? Three pounds?! THAT’S IT!! After 7 days of swallowing my weight in supplements, raw coconut oil, and a mixture of grapefruit seed extract that can only be described as akin to drinking liquid hate–this was all I get? Not to mention the fact that I was literally afraid to leave the house for the first 72 hours for fear of reenacting a disgusting, albeit hilarious scene from the movie “Bridesmaids”. (Remember Maya Rudolph in the middle of that street? Yeah. Not pretty, folks.)
But there is was, staring me in the face–three pounds. And I can imagine what some of you are thinking. Losing 3 pounds is pretty good; I should be proud of myself–yadda, yadda, yadda. But come on!! That’s a total of 4lbs in a month, one pound a week. And while some fitness and health experts would argue that this rate of weight loss is on par for someone my size, I say, “it’s some bullshiz”! I’m disappointed, frustrated, embarrassed and honestly–I’m kind of over this whole process. What I really want to do is get in my car, drive to Yogurtland, get all my favorite flavors, topped off with brownie bites and yogurt chips and stand in front of the window of the Bally’s gym next door, eating it and doing the Eddie Murphy ice cream dance. (And if you don’t follow that reference, shame on you!)
*sigh* But alas, that’s not what I’m going to do. Aside from that being just downright cruel, it would also make me feel like crap in the long run. Instead, what I will do, is put on my workout clothes and drive to that very Bally’s to join the rest of rabble who have committed to living a healthier life and have nothing better to do on a Friday night than go to the gym. (Perhaps my next blog will be about my perpetual singleness.) Thing is, I still have a week until my first deadline. And that means, I haven’t failed yet. Is it possible to lose 4 pounds in a week–yes! Will it be easy–hell no! But I’m a 31-year-old black woman, living in LA, pursuing a career in acting and writing. I’m pretty familiar with things not coming easily. So the fight continues. The FatGirl in me wants to give up–to throw my hands up and say “oh well, I tried.” But I can’t do that. Or more accurately, I won’t. Mainly because of you wonderful people. You guys have been rooting me on and encouraging me since I started this process. And in addition to owing it to myself, I owe it you guys. So, thanks, everybody–for holding me accountable and keeping me going. I have to say, I think my RJF, (residual jiggle factor if you’ve forgotten,) may have gone down by about 0.5 seconds. So, I guess I’m heading in the right direction. Slowly, but surely, I’ll get there. I know I will. Until next weigh in…FormerFatGirl…out.