Ripping Off the Band-Aid

I've always been a firm believer in ripping off the band-aid. I can handle the temporary explosion of pain that quickly subsides over the agonizing continuous pain that can come as someone tries to rip it off little by little. 

So, today, I'm going to rip off a band-aid and share something.

I'm overweight.

I have been for a long time. But I used to be worse. 

I struggled with weight for a long time. I could never get in a rhythm to get rid of it or to exercise regularly. And because of it, I allowed myself to be defined as the overweight, ugly girl. 

It pains me to post this... can you see my thunder thighs and my otherwise non-existant waistline? Yep... this was before I started to do something about all of that...

It only made sense that the reason I wasn't getting asked out was because I was fat. Right? I mean, I can carry on conversations about almost any topic and ask questions, so clearly, I just need to be prettier?

I hate this picture... I haven't looked at it in years... but I just...

Ugh... I can't believe I let myself get there...

Well, I've lost about 30 pounds since I started to get serious about losing weight. I'm plateauing but I know that I could eat better (here's to hoping that I can do that this week....). But the truth is, I still let those former thoughts define me and how I expect to be treated.

I know I tell my stories of being in the dating scene, but the truth is, every time something goes wrong or there is a rejection, I look internally and think, "Dang it all, Emery! It's because you can't seem to get your butt into gear and really lose weight again. Your personality only takes you so far." 

And so it becomes a vicious cycle. There are days like yesterday where I have to dress up and look pretty and every piece of clothing that I try on magically doesn't fit. Or what made me look slender two weeks ago, now tugs and flaunts all of the rolls and curves that shouldn't be there. But instead of putting on the go-to maxi skirt and the baggy t-shirt, I went with something a little less comfortable and decided I could suck it up. 

So what I'm trying to say is that I struggle. A lot. It takes a lot for me to say that I look pretty. To really accept a compliment. And maybe it explains why I so often question the motives of the boy who starts talking to me. Because in the back of my mind, I think: "I'm fat. Why aren't you talking to the skinny girl sitting at the desk?"

But I'm trying to change. It's just going to take a while.

For the record... this is me a couple of weeks ago...

I'll try not to point out to you the various blemishes I have and the squinty eyes (my eyes are probably my favorite feature...). But I'll end this post with a pretty picture.