The Vanity in Turning Down Cake
You’ll eventually feel profoundly absolved from stepping on the scale. The morning will come, oncoming traffic will go, and you’ll no longer have the desire to run into the latter. You’ll stop watching YouTubers engage in infuriatingly voracious Mukbangs. Your mouth will water less at the thought of chicken tenders bathed in gratuitous globs of tangy barbecue sauce. You’ll stop googling pictures of gourmet donuts laced in icing and depravity.
Why? The answers are simple. That cute vintage dress you saw online doesn’t come in your size and you want it. Your sexy high school crush, the one who recently graduated from University, isn’t into fat girls. Most Americans are overweight. You don’t want to be one of them. Shopping for bras has become less of a treat and more of a chore. You’ve overdosed on self-loathing with each ‘this’ll be the last bite’ you take.
It is okay.
You didn’t start losing weight to find yourself. You didn’t even start for health purposes. You started an apprenticeship in vanity, but you like to tell everyone what they want to hear. You prescribe them vanilla motivational speeches coated in more vagueness than a pandering politician can serve.
“I just want to start eating healthy. I eat more salads, and I don’t drink soda. They have cake in the break room? No thanks, I’m turning it down.” You say to them, but your lust for sugar manifests as pools of sweat in your armpits. Your stomach grumbles cavernously. In that moment, you’ve experienced a deep, existential crises.
It is definitely okay.
You’ve always hated running, but listening to punk covers of pop makes you feel invincible. Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold, but you won’t. You’ll turn into a idol of sweat with stitches cutting your sides like Pennywise on a mad stabbing spree. Regardless of your struggle, you need people to know you workout for an hour four times a week. Your ego needs that extra boost.
Losing weight is hard. You’re a creature of habit who requires uprooting to initiate change. Perhaps it was that day you looked in the mirror, realizing that your chin had more cleavage than your breasts. Or maybe you’ve stopped receiving as much attention from the opposite sex. Whatever your reason… I believe in you. Keep fighting. Keeping losing. Keep going.
Eventually, your losses will transmute into a win.