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“The only way to lose weight is to restore purpose to life,” - Cyril Connolly
I used to be an ordinary child with fairly normal body composition and I didn’t really care much about my body and appearance.
I was fond of chicken wings, burgers, and pizza and the major part of my diet was loaded with calories, greasy, and usually extremely sweet or spicy. It was, without a doubt, delicious. For dinner, my menu consisted of prepackaged food, potato chips, or French fries in some golden-colored cheese sauce. It was so cozy sitting in front of my computer screen in my favorite fluffy pajamas, eating junk food and watching TV shows. Time just flew by, filled with overwrought angst and colorful emotions, but the food on my plate disappeared even faster, like in magician’s trick. Poof! My plate would be empty! When something extremely exciting was happening on the screen, I surely would want extra food, so my empty plate would be full again almost instantly.
In the morning, my mom always humored me with a delicious breakfast. I remember that I didn’t like getting up for school, but the attractive fragrance from the kitchen did a great job of kicking me out of bed! Barefooted, I would shoot out of bed and would be seated at the table dressed, washed, and even with my hair done. The table would be filled with my favorite doughnuts and hot chocolate, homemade cookies, fruits, pudding, peanut butter pie, brownies, muffins, cheesecakes, you name it. A variety of my breakfast consisted of so many scrumptious things that one could publish a cookbook with all the picturesque sweets that were there.
At school, I used to have pizza of a hamburger for lunch followed by a sweet yogurt or juice. It was quick and satisfying! Imagine a schoolgirl stuffing her face with chocolate doughnuts, then the tardy bell rings! I would be running late to the class while chewing quickly. Thanks to my mum, who always put wet tissues in my backpack otherwise, my hands would be so sticky.
Teachers taught us all about spelling, math, science, and how to find the square root of 64, but they did forget one thing. Teachers forgot to give us the skills we need to be healthy. They didn’t teach us how to watch our weight.
In high school, I didn’t lose my habit of eating honey buns during break. Somewhere deep inside, I desired to get rid of it, but it was not easy - the journey of no return was already embarked upon. You can clearly imagine how buns affected my appearance. The first sign of my close friendship with pastries was already easy to be seen. My hip pouring over my belt happened to be the biggest issue for me.
At that time, I had sleep disorders, which made me irritable and prompted me into watching films late into the night. I didn’t realize that gluttony was responsible for such a strong dependence, leading me not only to various digestive diseases, but also body malfunctioning as a whole. Such a condition threatened my body with irreversible consequences along with psychological disorders. I was impulsive, emotionally unstable, and doing sudden and unpredictable things.
When food is abused, eating is like a narcotic leading to a full-blown addiction. This was something I started to realize gradually. Understanding my abuse generated guilt and depression. I was eating while being nervous and I was then anxious about gluttony. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I understood that something was wrong, but my habit overpowered my better judgment. It was comfortable to follow the unhealthy habits I’ve made, I felt cozy and peaceful.
Careless and irrational behavior about my appearance would not last long. When I was 14, I fell in love with my classmate, a handsome, sweet guy. He was tall, slim, athletic, with dimples on his cheeks. He would even play with his hair while talking to me! Every single girl in our class liked him.
You would think that I was part of such “competition.” Well, actually I wasn’t deprived of beauty. I highly valued myself, felt myself to be easy-going and loose. I was a funny, confident and trendy girl, and I always had enough of boys’ attention. Needless to say, the crush was mutual, despite the fact that I was an obese girl.
I think every girl remembers those first, naïve feelings when you can do anything for love… well, almost anything. I was extremely eager to look slimmer and every inch attractive - I finally understood that I had to do something! But breaking up with buns was much harder than I expected!
Overcoming fear, for the first time in my life, I started taking part in sports. There were 20 people in my team, only two of us were girls.
I hated workouts. Each time we were all running, practicing and playing on the field, I had only one thought: “When will I finally go home and eat something tasty?” I was dreaming to have washboard stomach, but it had other plans and hid somewhere far under the layer of fat on my belly.
I, a teenage girl, didn’t understand the simple rules of a gym life. Closed-toed shoes, sneakers, two towels – one for the shower and the other for workouts. I was too shy to ask the trainer any questions and everything was new and unusual, even the names - disks, bars, dumbbells. What the heck are those? I had to learn how to use the tools, where to put them, how to do the basic exercise set. How could I possibly know that stepping over the bar when an athlete wants to lift it is rude? In short, I was an awkward stranger in a strange land.
My enthusiasm disappeared quickly and the guys from the gym added fuel to the fire. Those “musclemen” covered with tattoos, having chains on their pumped-up necks, with the bared teeth of predators on their T-shirts began throwing insults about my round forms, especially one mountain of meat who had a hideous, scraggly red beard. He constantly made it his mission to hurt me. Of course, these “jokes” might just be rude flirts, but it was very painful and hurt so bad for me to hear “fritter, gingerbread, and doughnut” and similar nicknames aimed at me. These guys were adults, I couldn’t answer them in any way and I suffered through it all. I felt depressed. Terrible, anxious thoughts filled my mind, plunging me into a deep depression. To crawl out of this nightmare, I was even more tempted by junk food, which naturally led to more weight gain. So, I abandoned sports quickly, but now, in addition to being overweight, I was also screwed-up. I looked at myself in the mirror, yearned, and dreamed of a chic figure, a stunning sexy appearance filled with charm and charisma.
Having resigned myself to the idea that doing sports is not for me, I threw in the towel. And the fatter I grew, the darker my horizon was. I stopped dreaming of a beautiful future for myself and started doing things to keep me busy. I learned how to play computer games, I started drawing, I went to the park for walks, and I even got two cats (as they are proven partners of female solitude)
