#probably not fun

[michaeatscarrots]

my...my drawings...

i have more, i need to find them...y.eah!! :-D

HELPME POCKETKNIFE???????? giggling bcs my friends dont like knife (i dont mind him). peak crackship/j

GUYS I AHVE A NEW REACTION IMAGE.

[thatsmybluefondue]

Aging

Aging

Aging sucks, in a way I never expected. 

I’m not old—far from it—but the pressure of aging gracefully never seems to leave. My hips hurt, and my back hurts, and I’m losing hair, but I still have acne and a full face, like a pre-teen. I have hair on my body, but I shouldn’t, like a baby. I need to have a soft, high voice, and I do, but it gets loud sometimes, and even though that is childlike, it’s a bad childlike. 

I don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but I look like one, a young one, a beautiful one, apparently. And I need to act like one, and be like one, and be one. And I need to never age like one.

“I look like a baby,” I say.

And people always respond, “You’ll love that in a few years.”

I want to age, and I don’t care if it’s graceful.

I never thought I’d make it this far, and I never thought I’d have dreams of a distant future. I want to age, and grow old, and never be ready to die like I once was. I want my hair to gray, to get crow’s feet around my eyes from smiling too much. I want sunspots to show that I’ve lived, like I’ve never lived before.

I’m not old, but I want to be. Not now, but I want to live these years as they come, soak them in like a sunny day, turn them into healthy skin and bones and whatever else I need to live long. 

I want to live. 

That’s difficult to say, or it used to be, but it’s true. So maybe aging doesn’t suck, but the societal expectations around it. I expected brittle bones and aching joints, but I didn’t expect the world around me to say, “Now do it with grace.”

[tensecolaholic]

Okay I probably shouldn't die tonight, as it would be my brother that would find me tomorrow it I did...

[losingisntalwaysabadthing]

Start the Commotion

Ahoy. This is not just another weight loss blog...well maybe it is...but hopefully this one is a little more interesting. Let's be honest it will probably just be post after post about the internal battle between my taste buds wanting chic fil a and my chest understanding how much heartburn sucks. 

So a little backstory...I'm 25 and I've pretty much been fast for the last 17 years of my life. I don't remember the point when it got to be a little ridiculous and chicken fingers started to run my life, but I do remember that it almost all started to go down hill when Chic Fil A came to town. I'm almost fairly certain that stuff is filled with crack. Crack that has a time delay for cravings only on Sundays. So I'm not going to get into the horrible realities of being fat in high school because I didn't technically have any worse of a high school experience than the average dorky kid who was more into Harry Potter than drinking and having sex. I had a few friends and a lot of acquaintances, I was never ridiculed for my weight. I also never made a big deal about it. I was fat, it wasn't a secret. Everyone preaches about loving your self and your body, but for me I just couldn't. How are you supposed to love the one thing that you hate about yourself? 

Despite my wonderful mother's best efforts my self esteem has always teetered between a 2-3/10 moving up slightly to a 3-4/10 when college and real friends happened. I knew why dates didn't happen, I didn't put myself out there and then I didn't want to because I'm a shallow person so why would anyone ever care to date anyone who looked like me. I mean I have bigger hands than most adult men. Why would I be found sexy or attractive? The answer to me was that I never would. 

No one will ever convince me that being fat is a thing that I should just love and embrace about myself. It used to be because it was all ugly...no one like jiggly "more to love" skin that just hangs there putting extra pressure on your heart. Now it is because if I don't get rid of it I'm going to die before I've lived a complete life...just because I like my chicken and potatoes fried. This has officially become unacceptable.

I recently met with my doctor and not only am I fat...I'm morbidly obese. I made a few jokes about this, but it truly terrifies me. There's so much life left in me and it could all be gone tomorrow by a sudden heart attack or something similar  because of food. (well food and fireball, but that's an ENTIRELY different story for an ENTIRELY different blog)  If I'm going to be around to be the best daughter and aunt I can be...shouldn't I start making the correct changes to a healthy lifestyle? The answer you're looking for here is HELL YES! (i promise that is the only swear I will use...there will be some flowery alternatives...but I'll do my best to keep it clean)

So this is where this blog comes in...On Friday I will be going for my first appointment for a Non-Surgical weightless program and embark on a 21 week journey to a new me. The first half of the program is an all liquid diet. I'm both terrified and excited. I'm confident that i can do it...it will not be easy and I will not be the most pleasant person ever...but I'm ready for this more than I have ever been ready for anything in my life. AND since I'll be locking myself away from food at least for the first few weeks what better way to occupy my time than with a handy dandy blog.

I will post as much as possible on here. Most won't be this long and if you are still reading now...props to you my friend! 

On top of the liquid diet I shall be exercising and getting the buns of steel that Cher always talked about (or just mentioned once but I'm an exaggerator). Shout out to my fearless trainer Nicole who has never given up on me...time to make you and everyone else proud!

Here's to a great 26th year! Time to get healthy and happy.