Inspired by Liz...the evolution of Notorious F.A.T.

So my friend Liz (who is awesome, btw, and you should definitely read her blog, Splendid Minta) just posted pics of herself on her blog. Not just any pics though, pics of herself slowly changing over the past few years. Her hope is that the pics of her will inspire her to start living healthier. Go here to read it.

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.

Help me, blog friends. Please don't let me forget this post and that I need to go from Notorious F.A.T. to Notorious H.O.T. Not only because I want to be skinny and for all my cute clothes to fit, but also because I don't want to get the diabeetus or other obesity-related diseases. Plus cankles are just so unattractive.

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.