Weight loss. What a terrifying word. I get the chills just by imagining the horrors that often associate with this evil term. Words like dieting and exercising make me want to puke out the vinegar chips that I just spilled onto the couch I’ve slept on for the past 3 days.
In all seriousness (because I actually don’t eat chips and why sleep on a couch when I have an amazing bed?), I’ve decided to push aside my discomfort for those two words (although they may not make me want to heave, they still fill me with dread) and drop the excess fat on my body.
I’m not going to rant about how looks are superficial and how starting and maintaining a healthy lifestyle are my main priorities, but quite frankly, I do care. I want to fit into those tight jeans and pull off any kind of look. I want to look good next to my boyfriend and take pictures with my gorgeous cousins and girlfriends without sticking out like a sore thumb (or football field). In taekwondo, I want to be able to go down a weight division or two so I have more than enough opponents at local tournaments because girls are so damn sensitive about their weight, that only 2 or 3 will actually agree to fight heavyweight (on a very good day, might I add).
After years of being criticized for my weight (mostly when I was younger and going through puberty) I do have body image problems. However, in a way, I’ve learned to work past it and accept my body. The stretch marks, the love handles, the thick arms and chunky legs… I can’t let my physical appearance be a reason to feel like I’m not good enough. So although I’ve finally come to terms with this beast of a host for my remarkable personality, I’m not about to give up on what I can do to be happier.
I want and need to lose weight. Standing at 5ft7 I now weigh 78 kg compared to the 89 kg I carried back in December. By the end of this summer I plan on weighing at 69 kg and you can bet your ass I’m going to be confident AND happy.