I’d Rather Kick Myself

How a Fat Girl Decided to Change Her Life

Let me begin this blog by getting something out of the way.  I’m fat.  I. Am. Fat.  Got it?  I admit it—I’m overweight.  Now, I’ve been overweight for the last ten years or so, but I’ve been seriously overweight for about the last five.  The detail on how I became this way can wait for another blog entry.  Let’s get to the good stuff—what made me decide one day that I’d had it with and that I wanted not only to be healthier than I had been in a long time, but happier, too?  It wasn’t a health scare or a warning from a doctor that I’d better change the way I was living.  In fact, not one doctor ever said a word to me about being overweight.  I swear to you, they didn’t.  Really!  To a person, they were of the opinion that as long as my cholesterol, blood sugar, and blood pressure were fine, then I was fine.  By that definition, I was fine.  Always had been, and probably would’ve been for a good long while.  No, it was nothing as dramatic as a health scare that got me out of my fat rut.  Instead, this story begins, as (sigh) so many do, with a man.  This man came into my life unexpectedly a few months ago and inadvertently turned it pretty much upside down.  It’s because of him that I started thinking seriously about my life—well, the quality of my life, anyway.  What on earth did this one man do to make me stop and think about changing?  He asked me out.  I know, I know!  The absolute nerve of this man, asking me to dinner!  Yep, he asked me out on a date, but I said no.  Now, I said no primarily because he was not yet officially single,* but I also said no because my immediate reaction after he asked was “I can’t.”  Not “I don’t want to,” or “hmmm, sorry, I just don’t think we’d get along that well,” but I can’t.”  Even as I thought the words I knew how ridiculous they were, and just as quickly as I said no, I realized that I really wanted to say yes. (Although, hello! I am NOT one to go out with the Almost Single.  Only the Definitely Single.  Okay, there was that one really good liar, but that’s a whole other story.) 

You see, this man and I hadn’t ever met in person, we knew each other only through a correspondence.  It began as a casual thing, the “hey, how are you today” kind of emails that people typically exchange, but we started discussing more serious topics, exchanging emails more frequently, getting more personal, and we started a real friendship.  The problem was, when he asked if we could actually meet, I panicked.  There was no freaking way I wanted him to see me.  Big deal, we’re friends, right?  Sure, but I was just not comfortable with who I had become.  You know the phrase “she’s really let herself go?”  That was me—I was the very definition of that phrase.  I had gained a lot of weight, I no longer bothered to dress well because of it, and I wasn’t even bothering to wear makeup anymore.  I can’t believe I just admitted that.  Anyone who knew me 5 or 6 years ago would be shocked to hear that.  I was never a clothes fanatic, but I was always put together—hair, nails, makeup, and of course, always the right shoes to go with whatever I was wearing.  Always.  Now I was (I hate even typing the word) frumpy.  Me!  Frumpy!  But I was, sensible shoes and all (shudder!).  Now I know there are plenty of overweight people who are truly at peace with who they are and how much they weigh.  More power to them, I say, if that’s how they want to live their lives.  I, however, am not one of those people, and it really hit home when I was asked out on a date.  I realized I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t happy being fat, I didn’t like not being able to find clothes that fit that I actually liked, and I was way too good at avoiding looking in the mirror.  Worse, I even avoided seeing friends for fear of what they would think of me.  For years I had even refused to let anyone take pictures of me (so don’t ask, they don’t exist).  I don’t know exactly how it happened, but as large as I was, I had disappeared.

That’s why back in May, one simple request for a date got me started thinking about my life, something I had become really good at avoiding.  I realized that yeah, I did mi ss dating, seeing friends, and just having fun.  I realized that I wasn’t really living, I was merely existing.  I wanted to be able to say yes without hesitation if someone asked me out, or if friends asked me to go out and do something.  I wanted to feel good about myself again.  Therefore, it was time for a serious change.  Do you remember the movie “How to Make an American Quilt?”  There’s a line from that movie that I’ve decided should be my new motto.  In the movie Maya Angelou’s character tells Wynona Ryder’s character “I’d rather wonder than kick myself .”  Ryder’s character responds “I’d rather kick myself.”  I decided that day that it was time to stop to stop wondering “what if,” but to start risking maybe having to kick myself after trying and possibly failing at something.  So yes, the impetus for the drastic changes was a man, but rest assured I didn’t make any changes FOR him (please, let’s not give him a bigger head than he already has).  You’ll hear more about him later, but next: the changes themselves.  

 

 

*a story that may or may not be detailed later in this blog.  Oh, who am I kidding? Of COURSE I’ll explain that later.

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