Confessions: The F Word [Part II]

If you haven't read Part I, you can take in my teenage angst and the before pictures here. Life rolled on. I couldn't find a job because of the recession that summer and my motivation disappeared. Some of the pounds came back, school started again. Ho hum!

After the holidays that year, I met a boy. I liked him, he liked me back. He told me I was beautiful, we went on dates and one crazy day, I suddenly had my first boyfriend. It was even Facebook official, gasp! We had the same sense of humour and music addiction. The same wild imagination, and the same night owl disease. I felt as if I'd known him for my whole crazy life.

We both had a weird appreciation for Garth Brooks. I can't really explain it much more than that.

Sadly, the fat girl I used to be was still around. I had no relationship experience. It was painful how uncomfortable I was letting someone into my personal space. He was understanding, and we took things slow. It backfired- we ended up feeling like friends. So after 3 months, I broke it off. I'll never know what would have happened if I had been normal when we started. What if are two of the worst words I can think of.

After that, lost for answers, I gained 10lbs in only a month. That's 35,000 calories. Enter my royal rumble with the life long problem of Binge Eating Disorder, aka BED. When I first heard about it, I thought it was bull- how could eating too much be a mental disease? I googled, I took books out at the library. Every account, every symptom sounded just like me.

I'd eat without stopping until I was ready to throw up. Sometimes a couple times a week, if it was bad, maybe every day. I forgot what being hungry felt like. Autopilot. Realizing I had a real problem, that's how I crash landed onto my psychologist's couch. I went through two months of weekly therapy sessions. Worked my issues. I learned about what I was doing to myself. More importantly, I figured out why.

When I got to feel hunger, it made me excited. How I had taken that feeling for granted! At the end of the summer, Rebekah and I took a trip to Montreal. While I was there I got a Nightingale tattoo to remind me of all the things I was above doing to myself. How I would be so light I could fly. How I was free. (Dear mom, if this is how you find out about my second tattoo, I'm sorry...)
I've been on and off the wagon since then. There are days when giving up and eating the whole pizza feels like the best solution to any and all of my problems, except for one. That's my ongoing weight loss. Beyond the total aesthetic of being slimmer and feeling good, my family has a history of diabetes on one side. I don't want that for myself. I know I've got one hell of a fight left to get to a decent BMI and a stable state of mind.

I'm writing this just in case someone like me reads it and needs to know they aren't alone. I want them to know there's always hope left. I've been going on for four years and I won't stop. A few days ago, my roommates put me up to a personal challenge. To lose 25-30lbs by my 21st birthday. I accepted, gladly. So you can expect to see a fitness/health post here every now and again! With that, I think I've run out of storytelling fodder. If you want to follow my weight loss odyssey in more detail, you can check out my other blog Sleek G33k.

As is at the moment!