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Sometimes, starting is the most difficult thing. You accept that there is something wrong; you acknowledge the fact that you are harming yourself. But sometimes, even when you know exactly what you are supposed to do, you just don’t do it. I have been there many times before, and it’s painful.
I am not talking about drugs, or alcohol, I am talking about weight-loss.
Weight is such a struggle, especially if you have always been ridiculed because of it. I was bullied in middle school and high school. It was horrible. I could not wear clothes that were too fitting because I would then suffer for the rest of the day, and for the rest of existence, probably. I could not accept my body the way it was.
At home things weren’t better. I had a mother who was obsessed with being thin that she forgot how to be healthy. If I ever wanted a bag of Doritos, and she would see me reaching for it, she would say: “Fine. Go ahead and eat it because a heart attack is bound to happen sometime, right?” And then a father who always said: “You are not beautiful and no man will ever like you because you’re fat.”
I had and still have an eating disorder. I began sneaking food into my room and hiding it from my parents. I would eat more than I should have when I was away from home. Instead of eating my one burger with fries, I would order two. When I was out with my parents, a salad would ensue. I was not free to make my own choices in food, and when I did, they weren’t smart. My mother always thought that if I had a chip, I would need to have the whole bag (she was probably talking about herself).
For Halloween, if I reached into my trick-or-treat bag and pulled out a chocolate, my father would say: “Seriously, Astrid? You’re just gonna get fatter with that.” The startled, sad, and pitied looks people gave me with my father’s comments (because they were usually made in public) hurt.
Being overweight sucks, especially in a society like the one in which we live. A society that praises those bodies that look a certain way. As a fat woman, I strived to have the body that is so much desired because of societal standards. I went to the gym; I ate healthy (or at least tried to). I believed my father’s words. I knew no man would like me because of the way I looked. I knew that if I had a chocolate bar, I would most likely get a heart attack or diabetes. It was bad enough being at home and school and being fat, but things got worse. I hit rock bottom when I came to college. The dreaded Freshman 15 became an outstanding Freshman 70. How did I let myself get that bad?
Food was my enemy. I couldn’t eat without getting fat. If I stopped eating, that would be horrible for my body, too. I was trapped. I had no idea what to do.
About a year ago, I met somebody special who showed me that being the size that I was did not matter, because I was still smart, beautiful, and sexy. This person is also somebody who eats healthy and exercises every day (he’s been doing it his whole life). You would never guess that one of his biggest fascinations is cheeseburgers. He is obsessed with finding the best cheeseburger out there. How is he so healthy and yet eats all that garbage every once in a while? Mind you, it is not McDonald’s burgers or Burger King either (that, I know, is just plain bad for you). How is it that he can do that? And then it clicked. I realized that my biggest adversary was not food, but myself. I realized that I could eat anything I wanted, but I had to control the portions. I realized that the only thing keeping me away from my goal was my own inability to push myself farther than I thought my body could go.
I began with P90X® which is a 90-day home fitness system “designed to get you in the best shape of your life” according to Beachbody.com. It was rough, so rough. I couldn’t even hold myself steady after 15 minutes into it! Instead of the hour exercise the first time, I did 30 minutes. I was out of breath after those 30 minutes. But I continued every day, completing it slowly but steadily. My body began to change. I had less fat around my stomach and hips. My legs got so much thinner and muscular. I was just happier about everything in my life. It gave me confidence.
That special someone I mentioned earlier began noticing the changes and pushed me to keep going. I was so proud of myself. After the 90 days were over, I was a completely different person. Mind you, I was still fat (remember those freshman 70? Well, that was added on top of my already large body). But I was so much healthier. I could go up the hill to go to Shattuck (a Mount Holyoke College academic building) without feeling out of breath and wheezing. My knees did not hurt as much either.
I realized that I had to keep going, and so I did. I will admit, though, that after P90X ended, I began faltering on keeping up the good work. I stopped going to the gym, and my eating habits began returning. But after two weeks, I noticed my returning destructive behavior, and I stopped and assessed the situation and asked myself: “do you really want to go back to feeling horrible like you did?” The answer was, and still is, no. I definitely slowed down my process for those two weeks and have probably gained some weight since I am not exercising as much as I used to. But this is the key: I did not and will not give up.
Sometimes, I indulge myself and I know that it is OK. But before, if I ever had a brownie, I would be crying my eyes out telling myself that I was ugly and that I would never be thin because of that stupid brownie. Food used to be scary. I guess, food is still scary, but I’m learning to overcome the fear.
I am still fat. But see, I am the product of the decisions I make every day. I took up running a week ago. I have made it my goal to run every day. I even download the 0-5K app on my phone. I successfully completed week 1 already and I am proud! The week of Feb. 18-22 is was my second week and I will still be working at it. I still eat small meals throughout the day (healthy meals, that is). And I don’t want the word “healthy” to signify that I only eat fruits and veggies because I don’t. Weight-loss isn not about restraining yourself. Sometimes, I reach for the bag of Doritos if I want to; sometimes pizza sounds good. I learned that I am not a number on the scale. I learned that a pound of fat is more than a pound of muscle. Because “it’s not who you are that holds you back, is what you think you’re not.” – Denis Waitley.