How and why to lose 50 pounds, according to the internet and society.

“Well”, I said looking into my own eyes on my sliding mirrored door. The dim light emitted from my nightstand lamp, was all it took to reveal my fatal flaw.

With my shirt on the hardwood floor, my gaze broke from my fearful eyes, and scaled down my bare torso. I was obese. I was sad. No, I was depressed, scared shitless, and a messy lump of skin, fat and harmful emotions.

I had spent all of about three minutes surfing the web on how to lose weight. I came to the conclusion that I had to workout and eat less. Very simple.

I crouched down began my first push-up. Three! Nice bro.

Not quite. More like, “Nice, you fat fucking piece of shit”.

There we go! That’s a few of the words I’ve heard over and over again, permanantly ingrained into my being. They gave me the fire to do this.

For me, I have learned to hate myself to to do anything worthwhile. If I like where I am in life, I will not progress. I will not achieve. I will be stuck in this happiness and go nowhere.

You’re not allowed to be happy with yourself. If you are, then you’re a self centered asshole. If you aren’t, welcome!

Does this ring a bell with any of you reading this? Or is it just a figment of my anxiety and depression scarred imagination?

Eat only chicken and broccoli. For over a month I did this. I lost fifteen pounds. I also lost my ability to tolerate steamed broccoli’s stench.

Runners are skinny. Run! I ran till I gave myself shin splints.

Eat 800 calories a day. Doable, for another month at least.

Oh I forgot to add, workout nonstop, specifically p90-x plyometrics twice a day…….. no really, I did actually do this for a while. Yeah, look it up.

Do HIIT’s! They work like crazy!

Swim!

Proper nutrition? Dude just like, eat vegetables.

Bam!!! Mix those bad boys in with some cheat days, a lot of water, and 9 months of your time, and you will be the proud owner of 50 pound lighter body! How does it feel?

How did it feel.

Dissapointing. Harsh. Like a blade’s edge, slicing the wineskin which contains all those words said to me on a daily basis, both by others and myself.

“I lost weight but still look gross”

Type this in, read some google results and you can expect this: “did you not lift weights?”

…no. Well shit.

I don’t think I’ve ever been that depressed in my entire life. Working non-stop for nine months, feeling as though it’s a do or die situation and actually reaching your final goal. But, you still are a, albeit clearly more slender, fat piece of shit.

Why is it so, that in our darkest hour, we seem to go to the internet. To google. To random websites.

Why is it so that we trust so much in those websites, that we listen to what the have to say and we actual do it? And that when that information sucked, we are about ready to take our own life?

Why is it that when society makes fun of you, and calls you these horrible things, that we expect to get over it so quickly.

Eh, but I deserved it. It is my fault that my brother got type 1 diabetes and my mother had to devote her time to him and not me. And it is my fault that I ate to find any sense of comfort. From a long school day of being harassed for having man tits, to the dreading of going home to a depressed mother, dealing with two constantly infuriated teenage boys (as well as a rebellious teenage daughter), it’s all my fault. Right?

Wait. So, now you’re saying no?

We are shallow. We are petty. Why do we butt our opinions into other peoples lives, when they do not belong there. Why couldn’t I be happy while being fat? Why am I still sad even though I’m no longer fat? Why can’t we mind our own business?

No one knew why I ate so much but me. I knew my business wasn’t theirs, so why can’t they see that I just want to keep my head down and try to love myself?

I don’t have any answers. I don’t understand.

I think what I’m getting at is, don’t tell your opinion unless someone asks for it. You don’t know how they will perceive it. Hell, maybe they will go home and do something terrible because your opinion was just one too many.

Just let the boy eating his chips and sandwhich in chemistry class eat his damn food, man. Don’t say anything. Don’t. Don’t tell him to stop eating because he’s fat.

If you do, he will go home and that night he will have had enough. He will replay your words in his mind, and take off his shirt. He will examine his body with hatred in his sliding mirrored door, and give himself an ultimatum. He will choose life, and he will spend 9 months of that life, hanging on by that ultimatum, all the while using your words and everyone else’s as fuel.

But no matter what that boy does, he will always hate himself. But it’s his fault that you needed to share your opinion, right?

Just something to chew on.