PREFACE: When I first started this blog, I thought that it would just be a temporary hobby–a way to track my progress and be held accountable. But this process continues to teach me new things about myself, both good and bad. And after much encouragement from the wonderful people in my life, I’ve decided to keep it going. After all, I’m not gonna just stop being neurotic because a deadline passed, right? Clearly not. Case in point–my vacation.
CABO: I would venture to say that just about all of us have at least one annoying friend or at least one who does annoying things sometimes. You know, like the one who goes on vacation and immediately asks the bell clerk where they gym is. Or who goes to a buffet and eats a plate of steamed vegetables and fruit. What about the one who, no matter how often you tell her how great she looks, insists that she’s too fat and never seems to be satisfied with herself–the one who can’t eat this or won’t eat that. Well, if you don’t have a friend like this, allow me to re-introduce myself. I’m Khalilah, and I’m a FormerFatGirl. Feel free to smack me in the back of the head next time we run into each other.
Yeah, the annoying friend on this trip was me. And it took a while before I knew that my neuroses was becoming a problem to the people around me. Most never actually said anything directly, but I could see the lingering glances toward my plate, the furrowed brows, and the eyes rolling. Look, I get it. Some people find my habits ridiculous and that’s okay. But it wasn’t until we all went out to lunch in town that I realized my dear friends might be perceiving me in a way that wasn’t sitting well–much like the food at our resort. (Side note: Beware of the all-inclusive trap. The liquor is watered down and the main ingredients in the food are oil and mediocrity.)
Back to our story: There we were, enjoying delicious margaritas and authentic Mexican cuisine when out of nowhere the table erupted in a chorus of “Cumpleanos Feliz” and the waiter placed a small cake in front of me with a candle in it. My birthday being exactly one month away, my friends surprised me with an early celebration. (Great group, huh? I know. I’m very lucky.) So, wanting to share with everyone, I said to the table, “Okay, I’ll just take one bite and pass it around.” And that was my honest intention. It had nothing to do with dietary limitations. But I heard one of my girls say, “Dang, you can take the joy out of anything.” …ouch. I explained that I just wanted to share with everyone, but the comment left a lasting impression. It was kind of like getting a tetanus shot. The initial prick isn’t so bad, but the more it sinks in…the more it stings. Was I becoming that person? Was my neurotic behavior becoming less a charming part of my personality and more an absolute pain in everyone’s ass? Khalilah Joi…perhaps not so much.
It was at that point that I decided to just “Callate y come!”–“Shut up and eat!” I tried my best not to mention anything else food or exercise related for the remainder of the trip. I want to be someone that my friends enjoy being around, not the girl you want trip on the treadmill. Don’t get me wrong, we had an incredible time–laughing, drinking, swimming with dolphins, and a slew of late-night escapades–(the details of which shall remain between us and whomever was monitoring the resort’s surveillance cameras. ;-))
However, there were also times when I felt like they were concerned. Not that I’m wasting away or suffering from any sort of disorder or anything. I mean, come on, I lost 7 pounds for goodness sake, not 30! (FYI, as of this morning, I’ve gained 4 of those pounds back. And I’m pretty sure that 2 of them consist solely of guacamole.) But I think it was my level of preoccupation with it all that garnered some discontent. I am very conscious of what I eat. I have to be. I’m not naturally slim; I don’t have a high resting metabolism; nor is my body type one that conceals fat in the good places like boobs, hips and booty. (May you all rot in the fiery depths of Kardashian hell, you lucky wenches!) My excess goes straight to the gut and inner thighs, and let’s be clear–muffin top and frontal wedgies are not sexy in any time zone. So yeah, I will ALWAYS workout and watch what I eat. It’s what I need to do to be healthy, fit and happy with myself. But I recognize the need for balance or, at the very least, that there’s a time and place and Cabo is not it.
So here’s to you, friends: For putting up with my neurotic behavior…for celebrating the good and joining in for the bad. No matter what Dionne and Gladys say–“That’s What Friends are For”. I love you all. MWAH!
P.S. I’d like to take a serious moment to address anyone reading this who may be suffering from FatGirl or FatBoy neuroses themselves–former or otherwise. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re required to prance around in a bathing suit for days on end while ingesting copious amounts of food, you may also find yourself on the verge of a panic attack. Rest easy, fellow neurotics, and heed the powerful and profound words of my brilliant friend, Jennifer. “If you maintain a good, constant buzz all day long, you won’t care about your fat jiggle. Just keep drinking.” Sage advice from a wise woman. 🙂