Beautifully Broken Glass

Ever notice how beautiful a piece of broken glass is? It has smooth and sharp edges, and if you look closely enough you can see the ridges from the glass that was once attached, the ridges that tell the story of where the shard used to fit. The ridges are usually wavy but continuous, smooth but sharp, scarring but beautiful.  These ridges, to me, tell the true story of the whole and the shard, displaying the fragility of the original glass for all to see.

I think that glass does best what humans, myself included, have a difficult time doing: breaking. It’s difficult to accept fragility; it’s difficult to accept that we can be easily broken. And as difficult as fragility is to accept it’s even more difficult to admit. It’s hard to admit that we’re breakable; it’s hard to admit that we hurt and grieve and hope and feel disappointment. It’s just plain hard. And not only is it hard, but it’s scary. It’s so incredibly scary.

Because to me fragility or breakability is dangerous. To me, it’s dangerous to put everything out there. To me, it’s dangerous to breakdown in a heap of emotion or fragility because then I’m at risk for hurt, and I don’t especially enjoy being hurt. I honestly can’t say that I know anyone who does. To me, it’s dangerous to be fully fragile, and I think this to the point of being intensely apologetic whenever I do, apologetic for being fragile, and also apologetic to the person that I am being fragile with.

I think, or rather I know, that my biggest struggle is admitting that I am breakable. And despite the fact that I know I’m not alone in being breakable I still want to believe that I am invincible and unbreakable and emotionally indestructible. But I’m not. I am not invincible or unbreakable or emotionally indestructible because I Am Fragile. I. Am. Fragile. There, I said it. As scary as it is to admit, I just admitted it, right here, on my blog, for all the world to see. And I have the urge to delete it right now because I still don’t want to believe it, that I am breakable, that I am capable of breaking at all.

But I am breakable and fragile sometimes. I do have emotions; I do break; I do get hurt. And as scary as it is there is a beautiful thing about fragility. Like the ridges in a piece of broken glass, fragility shows the ridges and grooves of the real me. I have made some of my best friends through the minute amount of fragility that I show, and I know that fragility, or rather my comfortableness in being fragile with them, is a huge part of those friendships.

Now I wish that I could say that I will all of a sudden start being vulnerable and breakable around everyone, but I won’t because that’s a hard habit to break, a hard defense mechanism to outwit. And I’m trying; I’m trying so hard, but I’m just not to that point yet. I hope that within the course of this year I will at least get more comfortable with that and stop keeping all the people in my life at a distance. But for right now I’m satisfied with knowing and admitting, however grudgingly, that I am fragile and breakable, and I’m slowly working toward accepting that showing fragility is OK. Because broken glass is beautiful and so is the real, and fragile, me.        

Hanging On For Dear Life

Ever had an emotional burden? You know, something that just weighs and weighs and weighs on you until, well, who knows when. From my experience, emotional burdens and the feelings they cause are incredibly hard to shake. They hang around, beating you down, like some dreadfully vicious older brother (or sister if you prefer). They’re reminders of some of the most hurtful, scary, and just plain awful situations. I originally wanted to title this post “Ridin Solo…or Am I” because as I was walking (yes, I’ve made some peace with walking, thank goodness) last weekend, trying to figure out what to write in, what I’m going to say, is a “relief” letter, I heard the song “Ridin Solo” by Jason Derülo. Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what a “relief” letter is. It’s a letter that you write to someone who has hurt you in some way, and then you don’t send it. You read it aloud, burn it, trash it, keep it, or any other number of things you want to do with it. And let me tell you folks, there’s something to be said for just writing a letter and getting all of that emotional angst and resentment and whatever else is bearing on your chest out. I’m not gonna lie…I thought it was a little silly and/or (mostly “and”) ridiculous at first, I mean what the heck is a letter going to do, right? But it was surprisingly “relieving” (and let me add, scary as hell) to let all of that out and then read it to someone.

But this post isn’t about that specific letter, it’s about my own battle with emotional burdens, some of which happened to end up in that letter. I wanted to title this post after a Jason Derülo song because who wants to admit that they have things that bother them that they just CANNOT let go. I, personally, want to be seen as a forgiving and non-grudge holding person, but sometimes that’s an outright lie, sometimes no matter how much you really want to let something go and truly be “ridin’ solo” you can’t. But then, as I was walking, I realized that I can’t say that I’m ever really so concerned with “ridin’ solo” as I am with “hanging on for dear life” to the hurts and injustices and whatever else bothers me. I hang on and on and on, letting these hurtful situations and memories eat away at me like a toxin, never actually approaching the source of the hurt in order to attempt to stop it.

And, friends, I’m not so sure that I truly want to stop it. I’m not so sure that I actually want to rid myself of hurtful thoughts and second-guesses. I know…it sounds kinda crazy, right? I mean if you’re bleeding you would expect a doctor to stop it, right? Well, folks apparently I wouldn’t. Now it’s not so extreme as bleeding, but I allow these hurtful situations to hurt me. And instead of dealing with the situation, stopping the “bleeding,” and going the heck on with my life, I put a tourniquet on it and leave it, ending up with metaphorical gangrene in the process. Nasty, huh?

But why do I do this? Why do I allow myself to continually hurt over the same situation? Why can’t I just get the hell over it? And believe you me, I’ve been asking myself these same questions a LOT, and I think it’s because the hurt has become a security blanket, it’s become comfortable, it’s become the norm. And let me tell you it’s like a security blanket made out of cacti. Yep, I’m hangin’ onto “cacti” for dear life, talk about painful. But, you know, even the most awful things can become the norm. Sometimes it becomes easier to hold the grudge than it is to let it go, because letting go generally means “dealing, processing, and coping” and who in their right mind wants to go through all of that pain? Not me, y’all, not me.

The thing I don’t think about much though is that by not dealing with the original pain, I allow it to have a place in my everyday life. Instead of dealing and letting it go on its miserable way, I carry it around with me, being scared to let even one ounce of it go. I wonder what I would do and even who I would be without it. I’ve allowed hurt to control my life in such a way that I’ve given it the power to make and break me. I’ve freaking allowed hurt to DETERMINE who I am. Emotional burden is a hard thing to let go, y’all. It becomes an old friend so quickly that you don’t even realize it, and then it starts to control you like it has me, and frankly that’s just NOT healthy. So, friends, I’m sick of hanging on for dear life to hurt and emotional burden; I’m ready to deal because I’m realizing now that without hurt…I would STILL be me.  

PS: Sorry for the delay between posts y’all, I’ve been insanely busy with recruitment for Alpha Xi Delta, my sorority J On the plus side now that it’s over my posts will definitely be more frequent, and we got seven new amaXIng sisters!  

Sometimes You're a Forest and Don't Even Know It

Everyone hopes for something. In most situations, jobs, relationships, friendships, opportunities, etc., there is some hope involved, and it’s usually a hope for the best. But what if you avoid hope in order to try to avoid disappointment? I do this, especially with my romantic relationships. As I’ve said before, this year is about finding myself, and I happen to think that the best way to do this is to stop my dating life for a year. But I think it’s important (and incredascary) to figure out why I become involved in relationships that are not healthy for me and that I am not happy in. I think it’s a number of things, but I have to agree with a very wise person that a major part of that is difficulty being vulnerable.

Vulnerability is a scary thing to me. A scary scary thing. In fact, I’m having a really rough time writing this post. My heart is beating insanely fast, and I have sweaty palms at this very moment. That’s called nervousness y’all. That’s what vulnerability does to me; it initiates my fight or flight response because it’s like a phobia I have. It’s like seeing a HUGE tarantula for someone with arachnophobia. I know that sounds a little extreme, but I am not kidding when I say that I break out in a cold sweat. Because in my experience vulnerability opens you up for hurt, and who likes to be hurt? Not ME. And I’m sure not YOU either.

So in order to avoid disappointment I avoid hope and expectation and by avoiding those I try to avoid vulnerability and hurt. Because if you don’t hope for something or make yourself vulnerable by showing that you hope for something then you don’t get disappointed or hurt, right? Wrong. Despite my wanting to avoid hope and expectations, they seem to grow up like a forest before I even realize it. So then I try to take a mental chainsaw to those hopes, those expectations that are only going to lead to doom (in my brain anyway). Yep, that’s negativity at its finest right there.

And I especially try to chainsaw the heck out of the hopes and expectations in my romantic life. I don’t want to believe that I want the same things that a lot of women want, that I want a husband and a family someday. I always claim that I’m never going to get married, and who knows I may not, but I want that family. I want to have children and know that I have a good man there to be a wonderful father and husband. I want to be with one person forever and have that happily even after. To me…it’s scary to admit those things, and I haven’t actually figured out why that is yet. It’s something that I need to work on.

But here’s the discrepancy, I want those things, but I date people who I am not comfortable enough with to admit those things. I keep them at a distance (there’s that vulnerability thing again), and I never tell them. I try to ignore my hope that maybe they’ll be prince charming, because apparently I’m a fairytalesque romantic, you know. And before I know it that forest of hope is alive and kicking   (if forests could kick), and I’ve opened myself up for hurt without even meaning to. This is the scary part of my post because most people don’t like to admit that they’re looking for something so serious. I mean, goodness, who wants that? But I do, and that’s a scary thing to admit, especially when you keep dating people who you’re not able to be vulnerable with like I do. It’s hard to keep accepting that you hope for prince charming (and yes, I realize that this “prince charming” is not going to be perfect) when frogs keep showing up, and not the good kind either. And it’s hard to accept that you hoped for someone so “bad” now to be that prince charming; I mean, really, who wants to accept that?

But as scary as hope, in my opinion, can be, it still creeps up on you, becoming a crazy huge forest before you even know it. Hope has taught me something though. It’s taught me that if I can’t share these hopes for a future and a family and happily ever after with the person I’m with then I’m not with the right person. And along the same lines, if I can’t be vulnerable with someone, even when I’m hurt, I’m not with the right person. Vulnerability is something I KNOW that I need to work on this year because, as I’ve said, this year is about personal growth, and how can anything grow if it’s shut off from the things around it all of the time? So I hope someday soon that I’ll be better able to be vulnerable with people, and essentially be better able to see the forest instead of only the trees. And, friends, that means seeing the bigger picture of vulnerability instead of seeing only the hurt that it could cause, that means opening myself up to being hurt but also at the same time opening myself up to things that could be amazing. I can always expect for things to turn out badly, but do I really want to always miss out on things that could turn out to be great?

Here's a quote about hope from my mom's favorite movie Hope Floats :-)

“Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will.”   

Who's the Donkey Here?

So...I'm "assuming" that you've all encountered the saying, "when you assume things you make an ass out of you and me." Well, friends, I got schooled in that this morning. Schooled like you wouldn't believe y'all. Now as we all know I am not very good about being wrong. I hate it, with a fiery passion. I look at being wrong as automatically equaling stupidity, and it has been and still is difficult for me to break out of that hemmed in sort of thinking. I don't especially like admitting that I think in any sort of way that is "hemmed in" or close-minded. I, in fact, like to think that I'm open-minded and accepting and all of those other things that people are supposed to be. But the reality of it is I'm not so open-minded as I thought I was. I'm not so above believing the stereotypes and stigmas put out by society or my small town upbringing as I thought I was. And hell I may not even be fully aware of them until they're pointed out to me. Yeah, it blew my mind too. Straight up BLEW. MY. MIND.

Now I like to think that I'm above all of these things. You know playing into stereotypes, stigmatizing people. I like to think I'm for equality. I mean...I want to be treated equally, so why wouldn't I want equality for others? And I do want equality, and I think that all of the -isms are inherently wrong. But this post isn't about equality or -isms or whatever. It's about assumptions, and just because you think these things are wrong doesn't mean that you don't play into them or even sometimes use them in order to further inequality and not even realize it. I assumed that I didn't play into these things because I "believe in equality." I assumed that I didn't perpetuate any of that discrimination business because I'm a woman and am a marginalized as well, but I'll be darn if I don't do it too. And I'll be darn if I don't use my small town upbringing as a way to handicap myself, as a way to stigmatize myself, as a way to make certain ideas and thoughts ok. Crazy, huh?

I realize that this is kind of a deep post, but I've been trying so hard show that I am open-minded that I didn't even notice how close-minded I am on certain things. I'm not close-minded about everything, but I just didn't realize how judgemental I am about certain things in society or how hard I try to fit into certain stereotypical roles. Today was definitely an eye-opener, and it taught me some things about justification. Just because you can justify something, or attempt to, does not make it right. Just because you can justify an assumption or a judgement doesn't make you any less of a jackass. So here's to being wrong :-)

Fitness Truths Unveiled!

All right y'all, my favorite website, FitBottomedGirls, (check them out at www.fitbottomedgirls.com) does something called fitness truths. I love this idea because it makes you get real about fitness, so get ready because it's about to GET REAL, about fitness, up in here!

Now after much surious (yes, I meant to spelled it like that) thought with my "surious" face on I came up with my fitness truths. Be prepared not all of them are pretty, but who is when they're sweatin' like a beast? Not me, and it's not about being pretty anyway it's about being FIT! So without further adieu here they are!

1. I may not have a runner's body, but I sure as hell have a runner's heart (note my missing running so much, not being able to has been and still is torturous *sadface*)

2. Running isn't about just burning calories for me; it's about feeling STRONG.

3. Speaking of calories, I worry too darn much about them, and that's just not mentally healthy.

4. I want to be an athlete because honestly athletes are kind of badass.

5. I don't vary my workouts enough. I've realized this while being injured...

6. I don't like to workout with others because I'm not confident in my own abilities. They're always stronger, faster, fitter, or better than I am.

7. While I love lots of things, namely desserts, shoes, and shopping, none of them get me nearly so excited as thinking about this upcoming sprint triathlon training that I'm about to delve into.

8. I freaking love shopping for workout gear and workout accessories, especially sports bras and running shoes.

9. I want to become a yogi someday; I just have to start doing yoga regularly first.

10. I have a hard time understanding that being "fit" means being healthy, mind, body,and soul healthy. I associate it too much with being thin and neglect my mind and soul a little too much.

So there you have it, all of my nitty gritty, scary, and kind of empowering truths about fitness, or sometimes lack thereof. I encourage all of you to check out FitBottomedGirls because, well, it's my favorite website for a reason. And you all should definitely check it out around March because my post, "The Skinny on Being Skinny," is going to be run on there! How exciting is that?! And as for truths about fitness, I encourage y'all to make them; they're very empowering. I all about some self-reflection around here, and who couldn't stand to have some reflection on fitness? That's what fitness is about, doing what's healthy, and fitness truths are a GREAT way to figure out why you do what you do in order to keep doing what's healthiest for you or overcome some unhealthy business in order to be the healthiest you can be :D It was for me anyway!

The Many Different Roads, Paths, and Alleyways to Happiness

I met a good friend of mine for dinner a few nights ago, and she taught me something that I hadn’t thought about before: that happiness doesn’t come in a predestined size or package and doesn’t happen along a certain road or pathway. Now you would think, my being all self-reflective and business, that I would have thought about that already, but I haven’t. I haven’t thought about happiness in a way that involves more than one road; I’ve always thought about it as a one road, probably a highway, type of deal. But what if the road isn’t one road but many roads? Or what if it isn’t a road at all? What if it’s a path or an alleyway, and it’s crazy crooked instead of straight?

This friend just had a baby, probably the most beautiful little boy that I’ve ever seen. And according to her, she is doing “everything backwards,” because she had a baby before being married to the love of her life. But, despite this backwardness, she is the happiest that I have ever seen her. She is one of the best mothers I have ever seen, and she practically glows. It’s beautiful. She shows me that sometimes the things that you haven’t actually planned for make you the happiest, and friends, I can relate to that. Despite my control-freakish tendencies, I can relate to the unexpected no matter how much I avoid it because the unexpected happens to everyone, even me. And it’s usually something that I haven’t thought about happening, hence the “unexpectedness” of it.

I treat life like a game of chess. I try to think of EVERY possible outcome of things in my life, but the problem with that is I’m wasting time. I can’t predict the future y’all, yet I’m wasting time trying to do just that. I try to out-think my own life when I can’t do that. No amount of strategy is going to help me to know what’s coming up next. And I like to claim that I don’t want to know because that would take the fun out of life, right? But that’s a lie; I do want to know because the unexpected scares me. I think that’s why I think of happiness as a highway. With highways not a lot of unexpected things happen, and if it does there is always an exit right up the road to turn off on. It’s not like pathways where if you “turn off” you could end up lost in the woods, and I ain’t trying to get lost y’all. But if I’m always planning for the unexpected thing that I couldn’t possibly expect what sorts of happiness am I missing out on? What path am I not taking just because I’m afraid to get lost?

I tend to take the comfortable highway, and it doesn’t turn out the way that I predicted that it would. I tend to get lost on the “comfortable highway.” Those darn exits get confusing, and I always miss the right exit and stick things out longer than I should. Because when I get on a highway, well a highway that I really want to be on, I forget about the exits until I’m in Timbuktu and I’m hitchhiking to get back to the start of the trip sans many of the things that I started the trip with.

I would say that I’m happier now, on the path that I haven’t travelled before, the path to finding myself; I don’t wish for happiness at 11:11 anymore like I used to. I wish for more tangible things like my ankle healing faster or being able to run within the next few weeks. How interesting is it that I wished for happiness all the time along the “comfortable” road, yet I don’t wish for happiness at all now. I wished for happiness all the time with people who I thought made me happy, but I have people in my life now who share in my happiness, instead of making it or controlling it. And I am grateful for my friend inadvertently pointing this out to me. Sometimes the road or path or alleyway to happiness is crooked or backward or doesn’t look at all the way you thought it would, but you can’t predict happiness. You just have to live it and be all carpe diem because sometimes path you never thought would make you happy makes you the happiest of all.

Here’s a song, “Dog Days Are Over” by Florence and the Machine that relates to my post…mainly for the line “happiness hit her like a train on a track” because you never know when happiness will hit you J http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wi75BBkLqs

Still Splinted :(

Well friends, I, as my post title says, am still splinted. I am stuck with this incredibly stylish piece of anklewear for at least three more weeks. It's sad news, saaaaad news. And unfortunately this means that I still can't run. I'm stuck walking. Therefore I've decided to make peace with the monotony that is walking. I don't hate walking, but it's just not the same as running.

So as of right now I plan to keep on keeping on with walking, and I think my friend and I are going to start triathlon training soon. I'm insanely excited about that. We may just have to wait on the running for a bit. Talk about broadening my exercise horizons, huh?

However in the meantime I have never had my walking surfaces so limited. I'm sure you're wondering what I mean by that...well, I am to avoid gravel, grass, rocky surfaces, uneven surfaces, surfaces with holes, surfaces with stray sticks, logs, rocks etc. I'm sure there are more, but I can't think of any right now. And that's with the splint. Basically I can walk on straight, flat, and even pavement and in my house. On the upside though I'm allowed to walk without the splint for a couple of hours a day...in my house haha. So take that injury!

As for running...I can't run again until I have ABSOLUTELY NO pain. And I'm sure he didn't mean just pretending to not have pain because...well, I asked him, and he said no. So hopefully (and I'm keeping my fingers crossed on this one) I'll be back to running within another three weeks to a month, if I'm super careful. So wish me luck and no klutzy moments :)

Me and Lil Wayne

Lil Wayne speaks to me. I don’t know what it is about his music, and it’s mainly one song, but he speaks to me. It’s that song “How to Love,” and I feel that we can all relate. I relate anyway. And I think the part that I like the most is the bridge, where he talks about the person being “beautiful” and “far from the usual.” I don’t know I just like this song.  

And I think this song speaks to me because I’m not so sure “how to love.” As we’ve seen from previous posts, I obviously have a difficult time loving myself, and that aspect of my personality can’t be good for my relationships, romantic or otherwise. So how does someone “love?” Is loving just one of those things that people know how to do? I mean I know that I love my family and friends, but if you can love those people why is it so much more difficult to love yourself? I mean yes, you know all of your faults, but should loving yourself be hard? I don’t think it should be. It should be easier.

Now I’m pretty sure that Lil Wayne is talking about a girl who can’t find the right guy…most all of us have been there, getting crook’d and having non-forever moments, trusting in someone that isn’t so trustworthy as they first appear. But it’s hard to figure out how to love, especially when relying on the outside world to show you how or give you permission, and friends, I do that. I rely too much on outside opinions. I rely too much on the opinions of others instead of relying on my own. And that’s not ok.

That’s why Lil Wayne, and especially that song, speaks to me. I shouldn’t have to have other people teach me “how to love.” I shouldn’t have to have other people love me in order to love myself. I shouldn’t have to have other people to think I’m pretty, smart, articulate, awesome, or any other number of things in order to believe those things about myself. I shouldn’t base myself, who I am, or what I think about myself around the opinions of others. I should already know that I’m pretty, smart, beautiful, amazing or what have you before anyone says anything. It should be exactly what it is a compliment, NOT the whole package. I should realize that it’s the icing and not the whole cake, and heck I don’t even like icing on my cake anyway. So this is something to work on while I have my floor meditation sessions. Maybe I should start a mantra during my sessions…maybe I could just listen to “How to Love” by Lil Wayne and learn, on my own, how to love me. Because what does it help if someone else loves you if you don't love yourself?  

Here's the song, and if y'all have any inspirational mantra suggestions let me know :) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmkuvuEIbmM

I'm a Walking Fiend Y'all!

Ok so I’ve been walking 3.2 miles basically every day this week and part of last week. And yes, that’s with this wonderful (that’s sarcasm there) velcroed to my ankle. I even ended up with a blister from walking so much. How Bad-A is that? Very.

Yet, despite my walking fiendishness, I miss running. I miss running sooooo badly. Not to knock walking, because it’s good exercise, but walking is just not my cup of tea. I think I need a more exciting cup of tea, the kind of tea that running provides.

Running makes me feel fierce. It makes me feel like I can take on the world, and be straight-up kick-A while doing it. Walking…not so much. Walking makes me feel lukewarm whereas running makes me feel red hot, like a force to be reckoned with.

And, friends, I miss feeling fierce, because there’s nothing like knowing  your body can run so much farther than you thought it could. There’s nothing like running a distance that you could only hope to run before, that you only dreamed of running before. It’s increda-cool and so empowering. I LOOOOOOOOOVE IT.

So yes, I’m lucky to be able to walk and grateful that I don’t have to have surgery, because I hear most people with torn tendons have to. But I miss running. And let me tell you when I get back to it I’m going to remember this time, and when I want to sleep extra or don’t want to get out in the cold I will remember this and be grateful that I CAN run.

PS: I’m going to the doctor tomorrow about this splint business, so wish me luck that I’ll be able to get back to running soon J  

The Skinny on Being Skinny

I hate weight loss commercials. Sorry for being a debbie-downer, but I despise them with every fiber of my being. Why? Because weight loss commercials perpetuate the idea that losing weight is the magical fix-all for your life. If you look good in an itty-bitty bikini then you can rule the world or something akin to it. They suck you in and make you think that you can look like that model on the screen when in reality the majority of it is airbrushing. And given the fact that it’s the beginning of a new year I’ve been seeing a TON of them, from programs to shakes to equipment to meal plans to pills; it’s ridiculous!

However, despite how much I hate weight loss commercials, I want to believe them. I want to believe that losing weight really will make all of life fall right into place and give you the perfect job, house, car, and even boyfriend along with a rockin’ bod. I want to believe that being able to fit into a size two bikini is all that’s needed in order to have the perfect life, and if I just work hard enough then I can get that too, just like that “perfect” model with the “perfect” life on television.

But I know that’s not true. And it never will be true. Because despite how hard losing weight is, it is not a fix all, and it will NOT make your life perfect. In fact, the thing that no one, and especially no one on weight loss commercials, tells you is that losing weight may very well give you a complex. Losing weight may very well make you freak out more about your body than if you had just kept the weight on in the first place.

I’ve lost over 30 pounds, from changing the way that I eat and exercising, and I’m healthier. I, in fact, started out just wanting to be “healthier.” And I am, despite my pretty recent injury. But am I happier with my body? I can’t say that I am. Despite the fact that I am down several sizes of clothing and the poundage of a small child, I am still just as hard on my body as I ever was, probably more. Now maybe this is just me being a jerk to myself, and I can’t say that I couldn’t stand to lose some more…like 40 pounds more to be exact, but aren’t you supposed to be HAPPY about losing over 30 pounds? Aren’t you supposed to be happy about losing so much even before you lose the next 40? Why am I not? I’m so busy beating myself up about not losing the other 40 yet, which would be damn near impossible in the short amount of time that I’ve had since losing the other, that I haven’t even celebrated losing what I lost before.

So friends, it appears that I need to get the hell out of my “being skinny will make me happy” mode of thinking because I think it is keeping that extra 40 pounds around. I think my fear of finding out what really happens when all of the weight is lost is holding me back. I think I’m afraid of being “skinny,” because then I will truly have to face that being “skinny” will not solve all of my problems. I will have to face that being “skinny” is not the key to happiness. And that’s scary y’all. That is increda-scary. Because if being “skinny” isn’t the key to happiness, what is?

I think for me…that would be balance. I need to find balance between my romanticized ideals and reality. I need to learn to accept what is, that being skinny will not make my life perfect; in fact, my life will most likely never be “perfect.” I need to wake the heck up and realize that my outside is not the deciding factor of who I am; I am the deciding factor of who I am, and who I want to be. I need to stop letting the idea of being “skinny” keep me from losing the weight that I want, the weight that I think is keeping me from being the healthiest that I can be.

And despite my hatred of weight loss commercials, maybe I can learn something from them. Number one, weight loss does not equal a perfect anything even though they want to people to believe that. But number two, I should celebrate my successes because you never see those skinny people on commercials acting unhappy; they’re freaking celebratin’ y’all, celebratin’ the weight they’ve lost, and I think it’s high time for me to do some celebratin’ too.