I remember when I first noticed that my body was changing, a second puberty if you will.
“Nicole, you look bloated.” My dad commented as I waddled out of Port Authority with my bags for Fall Break. He cast a worried glance over me.
“Yeah, no it’s probably my period. I get bloated around then.”
Fast forward one month: that bloatedness turned out to be weight: about 20 lbs of it. How I gained so much weight in such a short period of time seemed magical to me, but really, it wsn’t. It was the result of Wellesley’s ice-cream endowment, sleepless nights playing catch-up with my classes, parties that offered too many snack to go with so much alcohol, and my own lack of self-disciple (that fruit of the Spirit really comes in handy now doesn’t he?) to go to the gym at least 3 times a week and stop taking some god forsaken dessert every time you eat a meal.
So I got a scale to chart my weight loss beginning in the first semester: I actually ended up losing only 2kg (4.5 lbs) before putting on 3kg (about 7lbs) on top of weight I had at my heaviest the last year. My weight loss journey is still in motion; at times, it’s difficult for me to keep it up, but these are some rules I remind myself to keep going.
- I don’t feel good. It’s deeper than just be categorically in the overweight section of BMI; I hate that when I put on my shoes to go running, I feel the fat in my thighs and calves contort and squeeze to move. I hate getting tired running after my younger siblings and feeling self-conscious at the gym when I’m tired within 10 minutes. I hate feeling bloated all the time, and…
- I don’t look good. Fat positivity be damned, fat women are not attractive to the opposite sex most of the time. They are beautiful in their own right, (please I know some gorgeous plus-sized women) but men time and time again pick skinnier, healthier looking women over plus sized women every time, and I feel that choice being made every time I go out of Wellesley and it hurts. In addition to the opposite sex, my clothes don’t fit they like they used to. I’m in the awkward space between size 12 and 10 where nothing fits well. I can’t pull off a slouchy tee the way I used to because of this excess weight.
- It doesn’t match my personal goals. When I look in the mirror, I see a young girl who let herself go, not a woman who is willing to make every sacrifice under the sun to succeed, whether it be forgoing ice-cream, sugar cookies, or a second plate of food. It is not the body of an aspiring doctor that will one day tell patients that they have to shape up or be shipped out into the morgue because of their weight and eating habits.
- It doesn’t praise God. Now this reason may throw some people for a loop: God wants you to be healthy. A 19 year old that’s pushing 190 is not healthy at my height. And that’s a sin towards myself and towards His plan for me. And being healthier will make me happier; it will make me have a higher self-esteem because of the work I put into myself to lose that weight.
It’s been tough to keep motivated to lose the weight, but I know I need this. It’s something that’s constantly on my mind: how I look, feel and act at this weight and I need it gone like yesterday.
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