Last week: 291.0
This week: 289.6
Weekly total: -1.4
Overall Total: -14
I’m one pound away from losing 5% of my starting weight and it’s only taken me 20 weeks. ha. I keep losing inches way faster than pounds (even when I’m gaining, I’m still losing at least 3 inches a week. It’s weird.)
I know this may come as such a super shock to anyone who knows me, but I used to really struggle with self esteem. Not only was I the fat kid, but I was the fat kid with messed up teeth, glasses, and an aversion to brushing my hair. These are all brutal in elementary, middle, and high school. It’s probably bad in college, too, but by then I just didn’t give a shit.
I remember my very first day when I switched schools in 3rd grade. I was wearing those stretch-cloth shorts that were popular for poor kids back in the 90s. I was on the bus for about 30 seconds when a girl said to me, “Look, if you’re going to be going to my school, I don’t want to see your fat legs.”
I wasn’t even fat yet and I let this girl’s stupid comment ruin my entire non-college educational career by not wearing shorts ever again. (Actually, she tormented me every day until she graduated one year before me. I was so glad to see that class leave.)
I was picked on every single day until I graduated high school because I was fat. Teachers heard it and didn’t care. Other students heard it and didn’t care. It was a really hard time for me. I started identifying myself as “the fat girl.” I didn’t talk very much and tried to keep a low profile (unless I found someone who was worse off than me to make fun of. I’d do just about anything to get the pressure off of me.) It wasn’t until college that I got out of this mentality.
One night, a friend and I went to go see our favorite band, the Mountain Goats. It was a positively freezing night in St. Louis and we were really early for the show. We were standing outside and I said something like “Ugh. I’m fat. I shouldn’t be this cold.” To which he replied, “You’re not fat. You’re Sierra.”
That one comment changed my perspective on myself. He probably doesn’t even remember saying that (we don’t even talk anymore) but, man. It didn’t exactly erase 12 years of absolute torture, but it has shaped my view of myself since then.
I think I’m a pretty confident person. I’m still fat. I still have screwed up teeth. I still wear glasses. I still hate brushing my hair. But you know what? I’m awesome, no matter how much I weigh or what I look like.
You know what else? So are you. I’m no motivational speaker, but it kills me to see people down on themselves because they’re fat or whatever other thing they think is wrong with them.
There’s nothing wrong with you. If something about yourself really bothers you that much, then change it.
I’m not trying to get healthy because some bitch said my legs were fat. I’m trying to get healthy because I’m tired of dressing frumpy. I’m tired of being out of breath all the time. I’m a major hypochondriac. I’m tired of freaking out thinking I’m having a heart attack every time I go up a lot of stairs. Enough is enough.
That picture cracks me up. The very first time I posted a blog entry on here, someone I don’t know found my link on Twitter and proceeded to say something like “You’re fat!” That’s always been my favorite insult. It almost makes me feel bad for the person for not being able to come up with something creative.
So, anyway. That’s my little rant. Thanks for stopping by, San Diego.
(ps. I heard the the leaders at WW talking about something super awesome coming up after Thanksgiving. They refused to give me any details, but they assured me it’s life changing. I’m pretty excited.)