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Countdown….

I’m baaaack!!! Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t post last week and I do apologize. Things got a little hectic with work, and I just couldn’t find the time to sit my ample ass down and write. No worries, though, because I’m back just in time to do the official countdown to my deadline. August 9th is just around the corner, 4 days to be exact, and when we last connected, I was 7 pounds away from my 12 pound goal. Since that time, I have begun to wean myself off of the candida cleanse and rejoin humanity. Also since that time, I was treated to yet another hellish wardrobe experience that only added more fuel to the already burning inferno that is my “former fat girl neuroses”.

Imagine if you will, walking into the wardrobe room at a production company and seeing a rack full of clothes with your name on it–all sorts of colorful, 1970’s period pieces reminiscent  of scenes from “Good Times” and the early days on “Soul Train”. Fun, right? Well, it could have been, had the stylist not completely ignored my size chart and pulled an entire rack of clothes that were TWO to FOUR sizes TOO SMALL? What in wardrobe hell was happening? And this, just off the heels of the daisy duke debacle a week before. It was official. I was being punished for not adhering to the Diet Coke, cigarette and cocaine diet that has become the standard in LA. Or was this just some colossal mistake? Surely, they didn’t think I was going to be able to fit a size 22 jean with no stretch. Hell, even with stretch, that wouldn’t happen. But sure enough, the assistant handed them to me with a smile, “Let’s just see if these will work.” Really, bitch?! And Lord, forgive me, I don’t use the “b” word often. I really don’t. But COME ON!! A 22?  Do you want me to cry in the bathroom? But I played the good little actress and went to try them on. Of course they didn’t make it past my thigh. No surprise there. The pieces that did actually reach my waist required that I not inhale for long periods of time lest I pop a button or crack a rib. I mean, honestly, it was a nightmare. I actually broke a sweat in the changing room trying to tuck, squeeze and pinch my way into clothes that just didn’t fit. And all the while I couldn’t help thinking, What on God’s glorious earth do I have to do to be this small? It’s not like I hadn’t been trying. But here I was, yet again, feeling like a fatty.

Fast forward 3 days, and we find our heroine in yet another less-than-comfortable situation–sitting poolside in Las Vegas wearing a bikini. (Shoot me now.) I have to admit, part of my discomfort stemmed from the fact that it was 103 degrees and I was literally being seared like ahi by the bronze plating on the hotel windows. (Sidenote: I’m black. I don’t lay out.) That aside, the rest of my unease was from  simply being in a bathing suit in public. As you might recall from my first post, I don’t wear bikinis in public unless I am outside the continental U.S. Such has been the case for many years. But because I wanted to be participatory, I joined my friends by the pool to roast alongside the rest of the melanin challenged. As I gazed across the field of burning flesh, I couldn’t help but pick myself apart–wondering why my thighs weren’t as lean as this one or my stomach not as tight as that one. It was neuroses at its height. But that’s been most of my life–wanting to have the body of my dreams and never quite feeling like I’ve achieved it. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Since it seems like I’m never happy with my body anyway, why not just say to hell with it, eat whatever I want, and stop killing myself working out? The simple answer is, I can’t. I just cannot do it! Something happened a long time ago, when I finally went from being a fat girl to a former fat girl, that created a permanent change in me. I know, without an iota of doubt, that I will never be fat again. Having been there for so long and now being on the other side of it, there’s no way I’m going back. That’s why when I put on 5 or 10 pounds I start to panic. I know it’s a slippery slope from 10 pounds to 40 pounds, and that slope is usually covered in pudding.

So I will continue to be neurotic about my weight and my appearance, but in some ways, I’m glad about that. That means I’ll always keep my health and fitness in check–that I won’t fall down that rabbit hole filled with funnel cakes, Fatburgers, and self-loathing. This process has helped me push myself in ways that were necessary in order to break some potentially detrimental eating habits. For that I’m grateful. And even though I haven’t gotten the results I hoped for, I’ve kept at it and continued fighting for what  I want because I know the alternative will send me right back to where I started. With that said, let’s get to some results. I’ve lost another 2 pounds since my last weigh-in bringing my total to 7.  Not too shabby, but still 5 pounds shy of my 12 pound goal. And with only 4 days left, well…that would be something of a miracle. But I’m okay with that. That’s the most substantial weight loss I’ve had in about 2 years, so I’ll take it. And I’m going to continue on with the healthy habits that I’ve developed as a result of the cleanse. (That is, after a slight bender in Mexico!! But don’t worry, I plan to drink more calories than I eat. ;))

I will being doing a final post next Tuesday, the official deadline, to bring my journey to a close. 12 pounds or not, this has been quite an experience, and I’m so thankful to have been able to share it with each of you!

About TheFormerFatGirl

I started gaining weight around age 6 and was on my first diet by age 7. Since then, my life has been a flurry of scales, gyms, low-carb/high fat diets, tape measures, spicy lemonade, self-esteem issues, loving my body, loathing my body, and the constant pursuit of my ideal figure. Since roller coasters are always more fun with friends, I decided to share my struggles and triumphs with any and everyone. Join me!

2 responses »

  1. Mmmm….funnel cake…

    Reply

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