So… I’m trying to lose this weight again.
Every few months or do when the world has had its way with me for a bunch of months and I can’t squeeze anything but trying to make it from day to day – it takes a break long enough for me to get an assessment of what that has done to my health. And I get on a wagon of health. It’s more like a trolley for me. I get on. Get off at another stop…. Usually slowly stroll back to the original stop and wait for the next arriving trolley. Sometimes i slowly stroll… Sometimes I sprint. This time (since I stopped pumping) I dashed so fast I went past the original stop. So I am in the process of working it off but also taking a very close look at two factors I think will either make me or break me.
A while ago I was digging through old pics looking for a homemade card to scan for a previous post I was making and I skimmed through countless pictures that I have of course seen before but I took special pains to really look at them… At me in retrospect. Inward quite the specimen. Long neck. Prominent majestic collar bone. Long lean and slightly muscular legs. Svelte arms with long piano playing fingers at the end. Small breasts (if you could believe it). Slender coke bottle shape with hips that would make any man cry. Well set, almond shaped, mystifying eyes that would stop people in the street so they could comment on them. So as I wrote this mental love letter to myself looking at these glimpses of my past, I remember distinctively at every single stage on my way to this 244lb frame i carry around now – how fat i thought I was. How unsightly my gut was. How horrible my skin was. How bugged out my eyes were. Had I spoken what wasn’t there into existence?
I remember going to wear that envogue dress for the dance at school and how much focus I put into sucking on my stomach all night. (WHAT STOMACH??? I think to myself now).
I remember designing my prom dress and thinking I was perfect except I (thought I) looked three months pregnant.
I remember that green dress in the pic with Shawnnie and purposefully seeking out a girdle to wear with it so I could stand myself in it because the jacket that came with it was bolero and wouldn’t cover my “gut”.
All the way to the “Toni Braxton” show where my dress to be made was the “biggest one” – thusly making me to be the “fatty” on the team. Mind you – this picture was chosen by the Kappas in making skeeyo.com (which didn’t last long – but you think the Kappas were going to put a “fatty” up there with them??)
And at ALL OF THOSE STAGES…. I was thinner then than I am today.
So how broken is my perception? Why do some women I see in the street carrying Gadbourey Sidibe shapes wear tube dresses with NO foundation garments and think they are the Shit while I am here looking for the billowiest flowing non hugging-est clothing I can find to hide behind? And should I accomplish anything this go around…. Will I know it’s any good?
My second issue is that of consistency. I am consistent in 90 day spurts. Which by definition is NOT consistent. I have to be about this whole movement as I am about brushing my teeth and washing my hair and going to work. Whether or not I want to do it? I better. And WAY past results sought out. Just keep going for as I can for my life’s sake – FIRST. For Athena. For Earl.
By any means. When I feel myself waffling, I will revisit this post to remind me of the meme I saw the other day:
I am making the former be my reality.