Yes I’m talking to you:
It has been brought to my attention over and over again since ummmm about puberty that this needs to be said. It needs to be screamed from a mountain top. So here goes.
If you’ve recently gained 10+ pounds read here:
IT IS 1-0 MOTHER FUCKING POUNDS. I CAN GAIN TEN POUNDS IN ONE WEEK. STOP!!! Not to say that I haven’t been there 18000 times because I have. For some reason when you’re losing weight for any reason (adderall, exercise, stress, poverty) life is good. It’s like the one thing that is there in the clutch, at least I can tie my shoes in these jeans. Something good is at work.
But, when the tables are turned and everyday you notice more and more dimples on your ass and your fat clothes get rotated to the front of the closet (and suddenly nothing can be dried because “Damn it babe, you keep shrinking my clothes….”), there’s a cloud over your head. All of the justifications (I’m bloated, I’m stressed, the scale FUCKING lies!!) are perfectly fine. If they help, good, use them, blindly follow them. You do not need to spend one more second of your life feeling like crap because of __ amount of pounds you gained. It’s not helping.
In a prefect world we would be able to look in the mirror and say I’m a human and this is what humans look like. But we’ve been conditioned to look in the mirror with various shades of horror. Put down Shape magazine right now.
Here’s a little story: No one ever said a dog was ugly or unworthy because she has a sweet tooth *cough Meena*. But I do look at her round behind waddle in front of me every day when I walk her and I take stock of how up or down the scale she is. Dang, Meena’s getting really fat, I should probably stop using her as the garbage disposal. Damn, Meena’s lost a lot of weight, probably because our house is COVERED IN URINE and she’s too disgusted to eat off the floor. (Wanna come visit???). But that’s it. I don’t think of her any more or any less, though I am still quite angry about the spite shit.
That beautiful parable was to say that yes you are going to notice when you gain weight and so is
everyone else (see below). And that’s okay. If any one of those people (your/myself included) think less of you as a person because of it then they are an asshole. Remind yourself of that often. Hey *insert your name here* stop being such a fucking asshole to me.
If you’ve recently lost any amount of weight, yes 3 pounds counts, read here:
Let me tell you about a time that I lost a solid 25 pounds last year. I weighed 138 pounds at one point, which is basically Reagon as Kate Moss. A few random women commented. J said nothing. Literally nothing. Until Christmas after I’d gained at least 10 of it back. He says, “Have you lost weight or something?” Pretty sure a fuck you for never noticing, I’m getting fat again, pass the kringle blurted out of my mouth. And I meant it. I bared my belly in public and you didn’t even notice. And now I’m on the one way train to fatty-dom. WONDERFUL!
The meaning of that story boys and girls, is that life is unfair. No one ever threw anyone a parade for losing 10 pounds. BECAUSE IT’S JUST 10 POUNDS. Legit one of my ass cheeks weighs at least 25 pounds. And not in some sexy Kim Kardashian way… well actually, yes in a sexy Kim Kardashian way because fuck it. Celebrate what yo mama gave you girl. You may have noticed that we are getting old as fuck. I have an angry furrow wrinkle between my eyebrows, it’s only going to get worse. And I’m probably going to need to eat my emotions one of these days, on the first of the month to be exact…. fuck a monthly pay cycle p.s., and I will gain weight again. This is life. You’re rich and you’re poor. Your fat and your skinny. You’re in love and your lost. You’re navigating life. It’s not easy.
Don’t make life harder by launching a one man war on yourself. Please. There’s a good chance that I personally (hi Mom and my two best friends that read this religiously) love every single ounce of you. And if you don’t know me personally (shout out to that one dude in Amman that reads my blog) there is someone in your life that adores every single thing about you (even if it’s your mom). They/I always will, regardless of the size pants you fit into this week. Meet us there won’t you.
My Kindergartener is 4 feet tall and 85% legs. Jesus.
Ev is a realll big fan of 6:30 in the mornin’.