Being totally unoriginal, I pretty much decided to copy her idea and do the same thing here, because (REAL TALK) I am fat. Seriously. Not chubby or plump, just straight up FAT. Now, I'm not one of those people who just suddenly got fat; I was a fat kid, a fat teenager, and a fat college student. Right after I graduated, I got my heart stomped on and my soul shat upon by a guy, and decided that I would make him sorry by getting skinny (how that made him sorry I'm not sure, but somehow in my constant post-college drunken stupor, I thought this was a GREAT IDEA). Long story short, it worked, in that I got skinny-ish. (Not in an unhealthy way, I just ran 3 or so miles every single day.) Skinny enough for me to feel super-hot and totally awesome. (The guy did feel sorry, and like a total piece of shit - which he sort of was - but not because I got skinny. More because I would get drunk and call him and scream at him like a psycho or send him threatening emails/IMs. Seriously. Don't you want to be friends with me now?)
Side note:
 |
| Who WOULDN'T want to be friends with/date me? HELLO, I'm wearing a "Fuck Me I'm Irish" t-shirt! If that doesn't scream class and sophistication then I don't know what does. |
Anyway, during the time that I was skinny I went on more dates than I ever had in my entire life (seeing as I dated the same guy from the summer before freshman year to February of senior year that sort of makes sense, but I digress...), and I pretty much felt super-awesome about myself. During this time, I met Nick, fell in love, and eventually got married. But before we got married, we moved in together, and I started getting fat again. Slowly. Then, the year before our wedding I started getting fatter faster. I thought after the wedding/grad school/job stress was over I'd start losing weight again. WRONG. I kept getting fatter, and now I'm the biggest I've ever been, have a permanent double-chin, and I wear dresses every day because none of my pants fit. Literally. Not one pair. Zero.
I don't feel bad, per se, but I definitely don't feel great. Like, I could walk up a flight of stairs and have to catch my breath. Sad, seeing as I'm only 27. Plus, Type II Diabetes runs in my family, so I am setting myself up for some serious health problems if I don't get my shit together and get healthy. Here's my problem: I love to eat. I love to eat bad, fried, artery-clogging, delicious Southern food. And pasta. And pizza. And cake. God, I love cake. And Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I don't eat those things all the time, but I shouldn't eat them ever, at least until I get my weight under control again.
My other problem is that I've grown to hate exercising. HATE. I would rather roll across hot coals naked than go for a run. I would rather sleep on a bed of nails than get on the exercise bike on our porch. For reals. I wouldn't mind walking around our neighborhood, at least to get started, but there are all these seriously WASP-y, skinny ass bitches that power walk around the 'hood like it's going out of style, and I really don't so much enjoy huffing and puffing my fat ass around with them stalking the streets like a bunch of anorexic lab rats running in a maze. Plus, I am super pale and have curly hair, so when I exert myself my hair becomes even more of a frizzy afro and my face gets beet red. As much as I do enjoy looking like Bozo the fucking clown, it is just simply not a good time.
So how did I ever get to the point of running every single day and actually enjoying it? College. Seriously. I had HES (it's like PE) my senior year, so I had to workout at least every other day or risk failing, and really, how much of a fuck-up do you have to be to fail gym class? So I started there, and then one of my friends thought it would be a great idea for me to join the club lacrosse team. I'm not kidding. They needed more people and my friend swore to me that I didn't have to be athletically-inclined or anything, just as long as I was a warm body. That I was. So, in joining the lacrosse team I started going to practice a few days a week, joining in on a couple of team runs, and spazzing out during scrimmages and games on the regular. And I do mean spazzing out. I'll save those stories for another post.
So anyway, after I graduated, I was already in the habit of exercising most days, and I moved in with two of my college friends whose evenings were spent playing WoW (World of Warcraft - Google it) on the couch and watching whatever was on TV. I am not a video/computer game enthusiast, so I did not partake of the WoW fun, and they didn't really talk while they were WoW-ing (is that a word?), so I would get pretty bored after work. I started jogging a little in the neighborhood around our apartment complex, and found that it really made me feel good. Plus then the aforementioned guy did the soul-raping and heart-stomping, so I had yet another reason to run.
After a few weeks, I started to notice my clothes were getting looser, I was getting toned, and I had more energy. So it was all great, and I ran all the time and felt super. Until it got cold. Then I put my running shoes away until the next spring, because let's face it: I won't even go to the mailbox when the temp drops below 50 degrees, so there's pretty much no way in hell I would willingly spend time outside, breathing cold air and freezing my ass off running. The next spring, I moved in with some other friends from college. These friends' idea of fun was getting piss ass drunk pretty much every night for funsies. I don't think I need to explain why I stopped running. Or maybe I do. Let me spell it out for you: I was drunk. All the time. Well, not all the time, but most nights.
Then I met Nick, and we were super-glued together immediately. We would go out to dinner, go to movies (and eat popcorn and candy at said movies), and do other date-type things that didn't include exercising. When we moved in together, Nick cooked all the time, and I ate all the time. Thus began the slippery slope to fatness for reals.
Let's take a visual tour, shall we?
 |
| Halloween 2005 (the year I graduated from college) I was going to say something like, "Look, I was so confident I wore nothing but a leotard and fishnet tights in public!!!" but just keep scrolling. |
 |
| Spring 2006 (I felt like the hotness in this Anthropologie dress, even though the size 10 (OMG) was literally falling off it was so big.) |
 | |
| Halloween 2006 (the fat is slowly creeping back on) |
 |
| Fall 2007 (We just got engaged!) Notice the rounder face... |
 |
| October 2008 (Our wedding day. Duh. I felt gorgeous in my dress, but literally a month before the wedding I had to have it let out because I had gained so much weight between since I bought it. Oops.) |
 |
| March 2009 (WHOA MAMA. It was a Madonna-themed birthday party for one of my best friends from college. Notice that even at this size I was still wearing a leotard and leggings. Clearly I have no shame.) |
 |
| Halloween 2009 (YIKES! Again, gold leggings and a gem sweater. NO. SHAME.) |
 |
| December 2009 (EEEEEEK!!!! I saw this picture when it was posted on FB by a friend and immediately shit my pants from horror, then untagged myself ASAP. Horrifying. This is the reason I don't have any recent pics, and the reason I need to get serious about losing weight. |
Peace.
 |
| I had to include this pic of me on Easter when I was 4 or 5. No, I am not wearing a wig. That is my real hair, that my mom cut herself. I am modeling my new bathing suit that the Easter Bunny brought me and wearing my hot house slippers, because I am the shit. |
