As I sit here, munching on some celery sticks, I’m having one of those “When did this become my life?” moments.
I’m wondering how I got to this point, where I have to waddle into plus-size departments, where I have to find bridesmaid dresses that magically don’t make me look like a stuffed sausage, where I have somehow garnered an extra two chins.
It didn’t happen overnight, that’s for darn sure. My weight gain was a slooooow, drawn-out process — many years of giving zero fucks about eating healthily, many years of being lazy, many years of having “ugly friend syndrome” (I’ll touch on that in a later post).
To boot, there is the lovely mentality that every fat girl has had at some point: “Well, I’m already fat, so this second piece of birthday cake won’t matter!” I want to scream at my chubster self, “THIS IS WHY YOU ARE STILL FAT!”
…I’m having an angry day today. Those happen. And they will continue to happen as I continue down this seemingly never-ending road to a healthier life. I have a lot to be thankful for (family, friends, future hubby, the Backstreet Boys’ music), so I just need to keep on keepin’ on.