10 months had passed since this years first attempt at weight loss.
2020 was going to be my year. The beginning of a decade where I was going to take control of my life. Where I was going to stop envying the ones around me. Envying those who were much more successful, much more healthy, was part of my life at that point. Frankly, I was jealous. Jealous that the life they lived seemed so effortless.
That mentality lasted 72 hours, and by Wednesday night I had become one with the pantry. Again.
291 days. Failing that last attempt lead me into a 291 day continuous feast. I was a food vacuum. I didn't care anymore. I knew what was happening, but I chose the path of blissful ignorance. I was over having to deal with calorie counting, having to hate my body, having to feel uncomfortable in my clothes. So by choosing to not give a single fuck, I freed myself from accountability.
891$ of fast food and restaurants this past July. I'm still young and live with my parents. There was food at home. Plenty of it. But by eating out, I was out of sight, no one could hold me accountable. Not even myself. 891$. 65 work hours. I felt like an addict blowing all their money on crack.
I was an addict. Food was my crack.
October 2020. My parents sat me down. All they wanted was for their son to be healthy. My parents weren't so concerned by to the weight I had put on, but more so by the fear that I hated myself so much that I just didn't care anymore. For them, I was they're everything. They loved me unconditionally, and it broke them that I couldn't love myself. Needless to say, reality hit me like a brick, and when I saw that my mom was holding back a tear, I stared down my insecurities, my fear of discomfort, my denial. Looking at them dead in the eye. They're gonna have to face me.
I had bullied myself to the point where I sought comfort in food. Then I bullied myself more because of it. I had let myself believe I wasn't worth caring for. Self-deprecation was my only humour. It felt safe. Safe from the judgment of others. But there was no way in hell that I was going to be that person another day. I'd had enough of the "but you're personality is amazing" comments. I'd had enough of the lying. The lying to myself, and the outright lying from others.
I was outraged by the 891$ I had wasted on saturated fats. I was outraged by the thought that I had hurt my parents. I was downright furious with myself.
So I pulled out my bank statements. I pulled out the clothes that didn't fit me anymore. I forced myself to see what I had done to myself. I forced myself out of denial, ignorance, and whatever lie I was telling myself. The proof was in front of me. The proof was on me.
Allow yourself to be pissed. Allow yourself to outraged. You deserve accountability. Sometimes you need to wake yourself up. You need to face the hard truth you've been ignoring. It hurts. It bloody breaks you to upfront admit to yourself that you've neglected the very body you've been given to experience life. But do it. Get it out. Be angry at how you let expectations ruin your previous chances of living a healthier lifestyle. If it takes you 70 years to drop a single pound, then so be it. Be angry at the behaviours that lead you to this point, at the past that embarrasses you.
Because now, it's the past. Your new life begins when you're honest with yourself. You've held yourself accountable, now you can start the journey that truly will be the best you've ever embarked on in your life. It's not linear, but that's the beauty of it. You'll learn, fail, pick yourself up, and now, continue on the path towards the healthy lifestyle you crave, because now you hold yourself accountable for your actions.
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