This year, I made the decision to make the changes I always told myself to make, but "never had the time" to do.
After 18 months of toe-dipping and reading more than enough about the various ways animal cruelty isn't necessary, I finally went vegan. After that, I made the lateral move to focus on my weight.
Weight is a touchy subject for me. From 15-18, I battled an eating disorder, derived from hating the way I looked compared to:
- My tiny friend with the long legs in the changing room at school
- Candice Swanepoel
- Lady Gaga in the Born This Way music video
- The quiet girl with the small waist in the pink hijab who worked the tills at my retail job
- This random Tumblr-famous emo girl who lived near me and had bright red hair
- Megan Fox in everything
Basically, if she looked waif-like, delicate... not like me, she was my goal.
I'm naturally lean but muscular. My thighs were my enemy, no matter how thin I got. I became obsessed with cross-country running to thin out my legs, lying that I 'loved the challenge', when really I loved the results. My parents and friends thought it was great that I had an active hobby that I enjoyed and used for good (I did a lot of charity things). I enjoyed disappearing.
Fast-forward to the inevitable breakdown, from the impossible expectations I held for myself, that heightened with every inch I lost, and I gave up. I didn't just give up on being thin. I gave up on being academically perfect. I gave up on going out and being social. I gave up running. I gave up on myself.
In January 2018, after a few personal ups and downs over the years, I faced some home truths. I was too hard on myself for things I couldn't control, and not hard enough on myself for the things that I can. I got mad at the structure of my leg muscle, but not mad enough that I still didn't tidy up after myself in the kitchen and left it to my mom, whose home I was disrespecting. I got mad that my belly would bloat by 4 inches after a meal, but not mad enough that I still hadn't passed my driving test and hadn't had a lesson in over a year because I couldn't be bothered. I got mad that I could fast myself for 24 hours and not lose over a pound, but not mad enough that I'd moan about being single, yet pushed away somebody I was dating for a year even though he was kind and open and loving to me.
Losing weight this year meant more than losing physical weight. I lost the weight of dumb body expectations, the weight of self-inflicted pressures, and the weight of my regrets over the past 10 years.
It's not been a straight-forward journey. I went through a rough period of restricting again during a stressful period. I hated going to the gym at times. Training for a marathon while working a full-time job was a struggle. But, here I am, 2kg away from what seemed like an elusive goal weight nearly 7 months ago.
And yet, I don't feel any sense of elation when I see my significantly flattened stomach in the mirror. I don't feel validated or confident when I put on UK size 8 clothing for the first time since I was 17.
I felt the warmest, happiest sensation in my heart when I managed to run a marathon an hour quicker than my first attempt. I (rather pathetically) high-fived myself when I managed to make vegan burgers out of my soya mince that didn't taste of ass. I genuinely smiled for the first time in probably a year when my mom came back from holiday and saw that I'd cleaned the house top to bottom and replaced her old, broken shoe box that she'd not had the time to get rid of.
tl;dr - Non-scale victories have defined this journey for me, to the point where the 55kg on my flair has lost its meaning. Weight loss has been a central focus that's kept me on track to improve other parts of my life. I feel a lot lighter on my feet and in my heart because of it.
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from loseit - Lose the Fat https://ift.tt/2L9HAg1
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