One Twenty Five

Let’s play Spot The Difference.

Hint: It’s a 50 pound loss difference. OR. The loss of an average 3 year old. Huh. How-about-that?

File Under: That summer I didn’t weigh myself, thought blue and pink(s!) went together, and started to eye cats as my soul mate. 

[This photo is dedicated to the Anonymous message I received earlier today.]

Flash-Back-[Awkward]-Smile-Friday: High School Edition

• I wore a uniform from my first day of school in kindergarten, to my graduation day of high school. I liked it - didn’t have to think in the mornings, plus, I had zero idea of what “style” was back then, so it worked out well.
• Yup - I’m a private school kid.  SHOCKING (<— I say that sarcastically, because sometimes I feel like a very ‘cliche private school kid.’ Although, not as extreme as some of the kids from my HS: I’m looking at you people living off their parents in beautiful condos dt with no jobs)
• I was 18 years old in the above 3 photos.
• I thought I was so fugs in high school, it was a rough time, especially as the hair-straightener had yet to hit the main stream market. Oh yes friends, I used to IRON my hair straight, like, with an actual iron.
• I NEVER used to wear jeans, as I was at least a size 16, which meant most stores didn’t carry my size.
• Grade 7 and grade 8 I went to a tiny Christian school, where there were 8 people in my grade.  Of those 8 people, I am the only one not married (thankyouverymuch facebook for this information), but I wouldn’t have it any other way
• I still have my prom dress (right photo).  It falls down when I wear it. High-five!
• The middle photo is of my high school graduation.  We didn’t get gowns or hats. I was always jealous of how the American schools on TV could throw their hats into the air upon graduating. [side note: Canadian schools don’t have cheerleaders, at least none I knew did]
• I really hated high school, however I’d go back if I could.
• I was constantly dieting back then, but had no clue what I was doing - I thought 1 bag (as apposed to 2) of Cheetos a day was a diet
• Have you ever read JD Salinger’s The Catcher In The Rye? Well the novel’s protagonist, Holden Caulfield wants to stand on the edge of a cliff and save children from losing their innocence. I lost my innocence very late in life. I had no idea of the world’s dark secrets until the end of grade 9, up until then I lived in a beautiful, ignorant bliss. I find it sad kids seem to grow up so fast these days…

There I was just a-sittin’ at my desk, 
     singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
Snappin’ my fingers and stompin’ my feet, 
     singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
I looked good (so good), I  looked fine (so fine)
I looked good, I looked fine and then… I nearly lost my mind… because…

WTF-PEOPLE-FROM-HIGH-SHCHOOL-TAGGING-PHOTOS-OF-ME-FROM-MY-TUBBY-DAYS!!!!!!

I have not spoken to this girl in years (years!) yet BOOM! My little phone vibrates and I see, “two tagged photos of you,” and then I’m all like, “oh yay! High school memories, let’s check em out yo!” and then I see the two photos of my pregnant-looking-rugby-playing-days, and I want to bitch slap that girl so hard…

File Under: I was so blind to my weight in high school. Whoa.
File Under: Also, I am a drama Queen, I’m actually in a wonderful mood this morning :)

~ Fat-File-Tuesdays ~

One thing I’ve found since losing some weight is that nobody remembers me being over weight.

I find that really weird. 

Even people IN the photos with me when I was 200+ always say, “I don’t remember ever seeing you like that,” isn’t that weird? I find that weird, especially as I remember it oh-so-very well…

Photo: Fall 2008 / 200s

Smile Friday: I-tried-this-dress-on-last-night-and-it-fell-right-off Edition.

Valentines Day 2008
195ish Pounds
Dress Size: 14

[As if that girl has run 2 marathons, and is training for a 3rd. Huh. Who would have thought? Answer: NOBODY (not even God)]

Instead of posting my usual “P.s. It’s Weigh-In-Wednesday” post, I decided to post this photo. Why? Because as the story goes, yesterday I was procrastinating from life, and flipping through my old university diaries, when I found this entry, which happened to be from the night this photo was taken.

June 23, 2007

200, well, 203 to be exact. That hurts to write out, I knew this day was coming, but at the same time, I never thought it would.  Fuck.  It’s official, I’m fat, ugly, and a failure. At 180 I told myself no more, at 190 I swore it would stop, and now this? Two Hundred and three. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be normal?

Tonight Sarah, Caitlin and I went to watch [redacted’s] soccer game, I hardly fit in the seats.  I then ate shit food, as I sat there thinking about how fat I was.  We headed to the QP (a pub) after the game where I swore to myself I’d just get a diet coke, obviously I was useless and got a Caesar, and then split nachos… and I wonder why [redacted] doesn’t like me. I hate this. I hate myself. I hate me.

So yea, this was crappy to read.  I always knew I didn’t like the way I looked, but to see it so blatantly on paper? Wow.  For starters, I was an idiot back then, and my number one worst enemy. I was so naïve to say such self-hate things, and then expect myself to change.  Some people choose drugs, some people cut, some people don’t eat a thing, my drug of choice? to eat (and drink) everything in sight. 

I’m not going to self analyze myself about why I got fat, because I honestly don’t know why (Sorry Oprah, but I still sometimes think it’s because food is just, that, delicious), but the one thing I’ve learned since then, is I have to be my number one advocate.  I have to believe in myself, my worth, for anything to even begin to change. 

There are days when I still don’t like myself, moments I wish I was someone else, but I can now, nearly 4 years later, say with all my heart I don’t “hate” myself, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Notes: Blue eye phase (nightmare), and baseball hat phase (kinda wanna bring this back next summer). 

Also, I have become obsessed (obsessed!) with Operation Beautiful lately, and am constantly brainstorming sneaky, little places to leave notes. Not gonna lie, I kinda get a high from it.

Holy Tyrannosaurus Rex, you guys!!

Some bi-atch just TAGGED me on The Facebook in this gem of a photo.

Oh, you know… I was just chillin’ like a villin’ with my bff, Toilet, with fake eyes, frizzy hair, a dress that looks like I died a toga black, and my weight sitting around 200, y’know… just chillin’…. as if I was cool.

Bitch is so getting defriended*

*lie, but for reals, looooook, why, OH WHY?!!! 

Ps. In response to Pat’s comment about tumblr vs. facebook, well I don’t know you guys, so I think of y’all as little (very pretty, sparkly and shiny) pixie fairies not judging me. Whereas facebook is filled with evil gnomes… evil, I tell ya! EVIL! 

Can you tell I recently went through my old laptop and stumbled into a world of photos from my fat-archives? Because I did. I really did (eeegads).

It’s a bizarre thing, looking at a photo of yourself when you were fat. Very odd.  I know people never see themselves as other people view them, but I NEVER saw myself being this big. NEVER.  I knew I was “slightly over weight,” but I really had no concept of my size, even seeing 200+ between my toes, or walking out of Gap (the most generous department store ever wrt to sizes) because they didn’t have pants that fit me, didn’t force me into having an ‘ah-ha’ moment.

My clothes didn’t fit because they had shrunk, and the scale read 204 because I had just drank a diet coke.  Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. That was my middle name.

I find this life truly an amazing thing, how we hold the power and ability all along to change our path, yet often don’t realize it. I waited for years (and years) before I finally took action. What was I waiting for? the secret code to weight-loss? (yes!) Someone to do it for me? (yes!) Because I believed it (it being my body) would just fix itself, somehow, someway, it would find a way to be ‘normal,’ without any effort of course? (yes!)

It’s incredible how all along I held the key to all those things. If only I could show my 18 year old self the year I just had, and the things I accomplished… she would have been blown away. Simply blown away.