I want to take you all on a little journey. Let's call it .. "Holly's Shitty Weight Journey."
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| Romper: Charlotte Rousse | Shoes: Payless |
In elementary school, I was always bigger than the rest of the kids. My bone structure and my height simply surpassed the genes of all my classmates. Screw them for all being so petite and small. I was, at times but definitely not always, the subject of bullying. If they weren't teasing me for my weight, they were teasing me for my height. I towered over all of the girls and the majority of the boys. Looking back on it now, I can't help but laugh at what was probably a bunch of stupid-ass boys feeling emasculated, even at the young age of 10.
In middle school, I had crushes on a lot of boys. For no damn reason whatsoever. I wasn't even sure what it meant to have a boyfriend, but for some dumb reason, I really wanted one. And being the extrovert that I once was, I pursued the majority of them, only to be rejected 99 percent of the time. Some of those boys were nice about it, but some were pretty relentless.
"I don't like fat girls. Sorry."
It's weird because, looking back, I know that I really wasn't a huge, morbidly obese chick. I was just a little, well, bigger, in terms of my height and my width. Whatever.
Once I got to high school, things got a little weird. The boys were totally into me! But, I couldn't help but wonder why they all just wanted to "fool around" with me and never actually date me. I was still "big," but I thought I was looking pretty good. I had a boost of confidence that I hadn't had before, and I began to flaunt my curvy [ass]ets. Hell, I was even dubbed Super Jugs for a while. I dug it.
I'd like to reflect on those years for a few minutes. For some reason, there's a stigma attached to fat girls that they're not confident enough to say no. This is why men think it's fine to try and take advantage of them, of us, because they think that we feel as if we don't deserve any better. They think we'll merely appreciate the attention, even if it's just attention to our curves and (yes, I'm going to just say it) our vaginas. I was a victim of this. I just craved attention. I thought that was all I was worth. LADIES, please don't let this happen to you. Know your worth and don't let a man take advantage of you. Stay confident and don't be afraid to say fucking no.
All my life, mind you, my weight has fluctuated. Once I was a junior in high school, I essentially starved myself and lived off of applesauce for a few weeks. I dropped quite a bit of weight, but was still 168 pounds and standing at 5'7". Still big.
In college, the freshman 30 happened. Let's move on.
2013 was a grand year for me. Between the death of my grandfather, my ex's ex ready to pop out their baby and a very stressful search for work post college, I couldn't keep food down whatsoever and lost a shit-ton of weight. It was so glorious. I felt alive. I wanted to die from all the anxiety and depression, but I somehow felt alive.
Fast forward to 2014. The weight just started piling on again. I was diagnosed with PCOS and my body started taking a turn for the worse. The weight continued to pile on into 2016, which was when I reached my absolute heaviest weight. I'll spare you the number so you don't drop dead at the sight of it. It was awful, guys.
At the end of 2016, shortly after my ex left, I had a brief epiphany after noticing that he was all up on his ex's shit, once again, He liked a lot of her Instagram photos, which featured a very skinny, carved face. I was tired of myself. I was so sick of feeling like shit all the time. Just like that, I started eating better. I cut carbs out of my diet, completely stopped drinking soda and gave up fast food. I dropped roughly 38 pounds in only two months. It was intense, but I felt so, so good. I even felt good enough to go on that Tinder date and find the man of my dreams (read more about that here).
Now, I'm fluctuating between roughly 8 pounds. So, I bet you're wondering why I decided to tell you all of this. Here's why:
At every weight I reached, I still struggled with my self-esteem. It didn't matter if I was at my thinnest or my fattest; I had my good days and I had my bad days. Sometimes, I cried when trying on clothes. To this day, I'll still beat myself up if an outfit isn't looking so good to me. This is what I'm learning now: to stop worrying about the number on the scale and start paying attention to my feelings. I am still on this weight loss journey (yay, me!) but I'm not going to wait until I'm 50 pounds skinnier to be happy. I'm going to go to the club, I'm going to wear whatever I feel good in and I'm going to kiss myself in the mirror when I'm having a "good outfit day." I'm going to wear makeup and do my hair because I fucking can, no matter how much I weigh. And, you know what? Even after I've achieved my goal weight, I still probably won't be skinny, and that's perfectly fine. Don't beat yourself up if you're struggling with weight (I'm looking at you, my fellow cysters). Be patient with yourself, listen to your body, and keep loving yourself in the process.
Oh, and by the by, I'm standing at 5'8" and I've never been more confident about my height. Embrace your tallness, ladies. You're all supermodels.
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