I got into bed a little early tonight. So naturally I lay awake right now typing because I lay awake a few minutes ago thinking. You see there’s a lot I want to do these next two years. A lot of goals I set for myself. One of the big ones being the loss of the last 15 or so pounds of weight.
You know, everyone says these last few pounds are the most difficult…that these last few pounds are going to take everything you have to lose.
I’m starting to realize their right…not good news for me.
Because it is so hard to lose them, I’ve been going back and forth for a while now. Do I lose them? Do I stay where I am?
And tonight it sort of happened again. I stood in the kitchen with a muffin in hand, albeit a rather delicious AND healthy muffin, and was torn. Do I eat the muffin even though I didn’t know if I was really hungry?
I ate the muffin. I felt bad only for a couple minutes, and then it was gone. Looking back once I finished it there was nothing I could do. I had already eaten it. No changing that unless I wanted to make some drastic changes, and believe me I don’t.
But these last few pounds…they bug me. They nag me. Even though I can tell you that in no way should they! I mean come on, I’ve lost freaking 95 pounds. 95! That’s like, a child. How in the world can I let these last 15 pounds bother me??
But they do. I should celebrate, be happy, enjoy the fact that I overcame obesity. There. I admitted it. I was obese. But I overcame it. I weighed 275 pounds. Mhmm. You wouldn’t know it, but it’s true. I tell people now and they look at me. “No. You can’t have been that heavy.”
Yup. I was. And it was sad. I used to tell my grandmother that I was perfectly okay with my weight and my body. Looking back I realize I really wasn’t. I almost hated the way I looked. I would get jealous of other guys and the way they looked. They got all the girls because of their looks (not the entire story there but that’s another post sometime if I think about it 🙂 ). But the getting jealous part? True. I still get jealous. I would wear baggy clothes to cover up. My standard outfit for a long time was a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie all a couple sizes too big. During the summer, shorts, a t-shirt, and another shirt a size too big to disguise the fact that I was plain and simple fat.
Then I met this fourteen year old through Upward Bound. He told me all about how he had decided he didn’t want to be fat so he changed.
That fourteen year old has since come to mean so much to me because on that day he saved my life.
Yeah I know. Stupid fourteen year old. Saving my life without my permission. Nah. That’s not how I feel at all.
He saved my life and I still to this day, after three years of knowing him, have no idea how to repay him for what he’s done.
So to say it in the words of someone I admire, I was fat and decided to change.
I hated being fat. I hated wearing baggy clothes. I hated being out of breath from walking to class. There are so many things that i hated that I’ve told no one. Ever. I hated life for a little while even. But that fourteen year old brought me out of that.
Now, three years and some odd months later here I am, 95 pounds lighter, a new outlook on life, and still finding myself at odds with weight. Although this time it’s a different story. I’m no longer fat, no longer out of shape. I’ve been running about 3 miles a day, for the past few days 4 miles.
So I guess I ask this question. Why the hell am I letting these last 15 pounds bother me so much?
I’m not obese.
I don’t have diabetes.
I don’t have high blood pressure.
I can easily walk to class without breathing hard.
I can actually run around in sports rather than sit on the side lines.
I actually WANT to be active.
So why the hell am I letting these last 15 pounds bother me?
I guess I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I guess I want to have the satisfaction of setting a goal, one that I never in my wildest dreams expected to encounter when I went to Clarkson four years ago, and meeting it.
Where I am right now, I never expected to be here. Sometimes I look back and can’t believe what’s happened…but I’m damn glad it did. Like, so glad that you don’t even know. Those last 15 pounds…I guess I also see them as another barrier for me to face down and conquer. I know that if I reach my goal weight of 165 I won’t stay there forever, but I want to see it at least once on the scale.
I never thought I would be wearing 32″ jeans. I never thought I would be wearing size small boxers. I never thought I would be wearing medium t-shirts. I never thought I’d be wearing a small hoodie. I never thought I’d be wearing medium sweat pants. I never thought a lot of things. But I’m doing all those things. My life, it’s incredible.
I’ve found a passion for life, and I don’t know how people can’t love life. My life isn’t perfect, but it damn well isn’t all boring and sad and mopey. I want to live life. And you know what? Right before I started typing this post up I was thinking about those fifteen pounds.
I was thinking “Is it even worth it? Trying to lose those last fifteen pounds?”
You know what? I think I’ve found my answer.
It’s damn well worth it. I’m going to lose those fifteen pounds and I’m gonna be damn proud of every single bit of weight I’ve lost. My whole life has changed, mostly because of a fourteen year old that I met three summers ago.