This is my 1000th post. I intended it to be a fun and light-hearted one about me and my blog. I haven't welcomed potential new readers or old ones back to my blog in awhile. I thought it would be a good opportunity to do that.
But things change. And this post is more important.
Without going into specifics, tonight someone tweeted a picture that was offensive to me and my sister. It wasn't offensive because it was football related. It was offensive because the reason why it was considered funny is because the woman was big.
I've been on the fence some time now about when I was going to post my "number." If you're a regular reader, you know what number I'm talking about. If not, I'm talking about how much I weigh.
For some time now, I've thought about writing this great big post about how far I'd come and post a lot of pictures. And I daydreamed about gushing on and on.
But shit happens and so you get this post instead.
In case, you haven't figured it out, I'm a little mad as I'm writing this.
Telling someone your number is a big deal. It's a source of pride and disgrace. It's like revealing a big deep dark secret that if found out, could break someone. Usually the someone is the person who is the owner of the number.
On January 10th of this year when I started, I weighed 239 pounds.
As of Tuesday, I weighed 181.6 pounds. I still have 31.6 pounds until I reach my goal. (Told you I could have been on Biggest Loser.)
I have fought extremely hard for that 57.4 pounds. Key word in that sentence: FOUGHT.
When you have as much weight to lose like I do, it's a battle.
It's a battle of the mind.
It's a battle of good choices versus bad choices.
It's a battle of the wills.
It's a battle of deciding how bad you want it.
The point? If you haven't picked it up already, is that it's hard. It might be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life so far.
And the hardest part of all is deciding who you are in the fight.
You're either a victim or a survivor.
I am a survivor.
You wanna know why? Because when someone makes a fat joke again for the umpteenth time and says, "Oh you know I was just kidding!" I don't accept it. When you pick on this fat girl and joke and say it's funny to cover yourself. I promise you, THIS fat girl doesn't find it funny.
I find it to be exactly what it is: rude, hurtful, mean, and downright ugly.
And then I see that person and their comments in a second light. I see them as motivation. I pick myself up by my bootstraps and kick ass and lose more weight.
They don't get the power over me anymore.
But when I started?
When I weighed 239 pounds, I was fragile.
When I looked like this, I couldn't say the same.
I have a very strong personality. I always have. But my kryptonite always has been and always will be the words that people say. So if I had seen that joke when I looked like that, I probably would have bawled secretly for days. It's probably why it burns me as bad as it does now. I remember what it was like to be her. Hell, less than 11 months ago, I was her...and in most ways, I still am her.
The point? I didn't get to where I am now over night. I had to start somewhere. Everyone does.
So the next time you think about making fun of someone because they're fat or don't look like you, think about how you'd feel if someone did the same to you.
I guarantee you, you'll think twice before you open your mouth. And if you don't, then you need to get your priorities straight.
Welcome to my blog. As you can see, I have a low tolerance for bullshit in the form of rude people who suffer from diarrhea of the mouth.
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