You Bring Me Joy, when I’m down . . .
Thank you, for being my friend. Thank you for accepting all my flaws, and making me feel beautiful, on even my ugliest days. Your smile lights up my day, even if I don’t see it until the end of the night.
I Like Your Face, Loser.
You’re the Finest Thing I’ve seen in all my Life. . .
Thank you. I couldn’t have planned for you in a million lifetimes, and yet I know this happened on purpose for a reason. Your honesty has gotten me through some hard shit . . . and I’m forever grateful.
You Know I Got You, Right . . .
Thank you for trusting me. It meant the world to me. Thank you for making me understand the true meaning of friendship. If ever you need me, all you have to do is call.
You’re All I Need To Get By . . .
Thank You, for always reminding me who I was raised to be. Thank you, for listening to my angst and helping me work through it. Thank you for sacrificing for me when you shouldn’t have, and for loving me enough to do so.
You My NIGGA . . .
Nigga, I’m so glad our friendship survived this move! Summer 2019 is the travel goals. Passports and er’thing. Damn the Man! Also, who would have thought OKC would create a genuine friendship?!?!
You Are My Best Friend . . .
I missed you, when you were gone. I’m so glad we came back to each other. I don’t understand life when you aren’t there. I can’t picture life, without you right by my side. I Love You.
I don’t know what I’d ever do without you,
From the beginning to the end.
You’ve always been here right beside me,
So, I’ll call you my Best Friend
Hopefully, you figured out which one was directed at you. Thanks for making 2018 great for me!
If you’ve read a blog I’ve written this year, you know my life is crazy as all the hells. It’s become this thing I couldn’t have planned for if I tried. More frequently than I’d like to admit, I’ve had to stop myself and say, “This is Real!”
I had this conversation with my Blacko-Rican Best Friend, about us being ‘Late Bloomers.’ We seem to be living our lives about 10 years behind. Changing careers at 35, having major adult epiphanies right now. After we’ve watched almost everyone else we went to college with, seemingly prosper. They have great jobs, and happy families.
Yet we, just aren’t there yet. And we’ve finally accepted it. Without shame, or fear of judgement. We are becoming the Best Versions of ourselves, with the knowledge gained from 10+ years of ‘not living up to our potential.‘
That recognition, that we’ve paved our own path is so….freeing. It’s a weight lifted off our shoulders, that we were so used to carrying, we forgot it was there.
I dance, all the time. In public, around people I don’t know. I Sing Again…I found my voice again.
Because, the weight has lifted.
I’m not trying to get my shit together anymore, I’ve actually done it. When my car broke down, I didn’t scramble and cry….I looked at my budget and figured that shit out.
Maybe Its Time, To Let The Old Ways Die…..
I’ve lost 82lbs this year, with minimal effort. In 12 months, I went to the gym 3 months out of the year. Now, those 3 months were INTENSE, but it was just 3 months. The rest of the time, I’ve just been moving.
Teaching 6th grade, having to work around that big ass classroom everyday, I was averaging between 13,000 to 17,000 steps a day. When I lived in AZ, I struggled to get 6,000 steps a day.
I should have done this 10 years ago!
I think if I had, I wouldn’t appreciate it as much.
The Best Benefit of being a Late Bloomer….you’ve actually made all the mistakes. You’ve learned from them. You’ve struggled, and worked those emotional muscles….you already know you can make it through anything…because you already have.
I had to make the decision, to stop doing things the way I always had. It wasn’t working for me. I was beating a dead ass horse (FUCK YOU PETA). My arms got tired.
The minute I did something different, every single thing in my life changed.
Everything made sense in my life at this age. Every day was the same, and so were the people around. Occasionally, my mom would attempt to introduce me to new environments, with varied results. What I remember about my life at this time, was all positive. I don’t think I understood any negative things in the world. I just wanted my rabbit (security blanket) and my Mommy. This was a Happy Ass Lil’ Girl. Everyone used to tell me how smart and pretty i was. I was always the teacher’s pet. I was friends with everyone I encountered, because I presented well. I was a very articulate, polite, well put together, petite little girl. I didn’t understand that any of the “isms” even existed.
My grandfather introduced me to Pork the summer before 6th grade. I know that sounds random, but most girls in my family can tell you when they started gaining weight. I spent that summer with my father in Pittsburgh, and it was spent at my grandfather’s house. He had a freezer full of food in the basement, and every night he would cook some kind of greasy ass meat. Joyce didn’t cook like that, we had baked chicken every night. My grandfather would let me eat any and everything while I was there. I gained so much weight that summer my cousins in Detroit didn’t even recognize me. I wasn’t ashamed of my weight, I just saw that people looked at me differently.
By the time I got to college, I was used to being fat. I was used to being the fattest person in the room, and used to chairs being uncomfortable. I still lived my life. Just slower than most people. I went to parties and danced my ass off. I made friends of all sizes, but my main ones were smaller than me. I started hating going to the mall with them tho. Because we didn’t shop in the same stores. When I was with them, the staff in those stores looked at me like I was beneath them. Because I was fat. So I stopped shopping for clothes. Everything came from Lane Bryant anyway. I had brief moments of “Feeling Myself” but it was mostly because all my friends were gay men Junior/Senior year and they made me stop wearing turtlenecks even in the summer. I started wearing colors other than blue and green. I started buying sexy bras and showing off my chest. It wasn’t all the time, I grew into my body. I stopped thinking it was this thing, and realized I could control how I felt about it.
I lost my virginity at 26 years old. This matters. Boys in college weren’t checking for the Big Girls, they just weren’t. It was already weird I was a virgin in college, the conversations were just so damn awkward after college. A Grown Ass Man, 11 years older than me, was the first person I slept with. It was the 1st time I had felt pretty in a long time. Desired or wanted. It was a one time experience, but it gave me hope.
I was just gone have to find more men who knew I was fly regardless of my size. That was the goal. I started trying to be cute on purpose. I wasn’t trying to lose weight, just look better in the clothes I had on. Then I went to a conference in 2009, and meet the most beautiful BIg Girls. They were well dressed, wore makeup, and looked GOOD. There was no shame in their game, they knew they looked good and were HAPPY being Big. What if I didn’t let my weight make me sad? What if I stopped thinking I could only be loved by men who liked BIg Girls? What if, I just lived my life?
This is me at my heaviest and Happiest (until now). I was in all types of love. I worked from home, and lived a homemaker’s existence. That man would never love me back tho, because I couldn’t keep up with him. I couldn’t dance at the same speed he could, I couldn’t join him for a quick run in the morning. I could barely walk our dog. When we broke up, I wasn’t surprised. A large part of me felt like I wasn’t good enough for him anyway. Because I was Fat. So I came up with a plan.
It felt like my weight kept me from being happy for the last time! I worked out every day for 8 months after we broke up. It was the first time I’d ever made an effort to lose weight. I lost it to prove him wrong. To show him I was attractive, and cute, and worthy of his love. Thank God I finally realized he was just an asshole. I think I was a Size 20 at my smallest back then. I lost the weight, but I didn’t learn anything from it. So I gained it all back, and more.
In July of 2017, my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the 2nd time. I was 2000 miles away, and unable to travel freely because of my job/finances. I stopped eating. It wasn’t a conscious choice, it’s just how my depression choose to manifest itself. Before I knew it, I’d lost about 20lbs. People were telling me how good I looked, and asking me my secret. When I answered, “Depression,” they didn’t quite know how to take it. Before I took 2 months off work to come back home and see about my mom, my therapist said to me, “What if you actually made the effort to keep losing weight?” It was a simple question, but the answer changed my life.
I had stopped making an effort to do anything. Because my weight was a burden. I stopped going to public events, because I didn’t want to have an issue with the seats/bleachers. My body was my depression manifested. I got to Michigan, joined a gym, and worked out for 2 hours every day. I lost an additional 30 lbs in the 1st month. I made an effort, and I didn’t let myself make excuses. I held myself accountable, and let others do it as well.
I figured out so much shit, released so many traumas that were attached to my size/weight/body along the way. 3 weeks ago, I bought a pair of pants at were a 14/16. My original goal was to be a size 18 jean, so I can buy jeans at Walmart. [Because cheap}
While no one was looking, I lost a whole person.
While no one was looking, I figured myself out. I found out who I loved, and why I loved them. I see this new girl in the mirror, and she’s so damn cute. I was so used to looking one way . . . I didn’t even notice when I stopped looking that way. It’s only when I put on clothes that used to fit I realize how much I’ve changed.
I’m this . . . sexy girl, with a Phat Ass, and everything is real. Imma BAAAAAAAAAAAAAD BITCH, and proud of it. I can walk up stairs without running out of breath. I can park at the end of the parking lot and not be sweating by the time I get to the door of Target. I don’t have to ask for a seat belt extender on a plane. People don’t move over if I sit next to them.
Society sucks. The fact that fat people aren’t accepted as “normal” is bullshit. People who never used to pay attention to me, talk to me all the time. I’ve lost friends because of this weight loss. I’ve also gained relationships I wouldn’t trade for anything. My size has been part of me my whole life. It’s not anymore.
While No One Was Looking, I became the best version of myself.