This is probably the most honest post I’ll ever write- apologies for grammatical errors but rants don’t require proper punctuation and spelling okay?!
Most people would say I have an alright body- even I admit it occasionally. I also post pictures on Instagram of me in a crop top, stomach out (providing the lighting’s good and i’ve yet to eat breakfast, you might even see a hint of abdominal definiton) flexing as hard as I can.
However, I have days where i literally feel shit about my looks and although this post is mainly about fat and weight- these personally body hatred days often coincide with “why does my hair look like shit/i wish i wasn’t so pale and pasty/my nose is like a bloody witch’s (no offence to any witches reading this), i look tired, my skin’s dry etc. etc. etc. seriously i could go on forever.
Today happened to be one of those days where I literally want to curl up in a ball, spoon nutella straight from the jar into my mouth and binge watch netflix because everything is just shit.
It all started when I went into Topshop. I’m going on holiday real soon and have been on a mission to lose weight before i go (i’m always on a mission to lose weight but think of this as an ultra super mission). I have always had an image of myself in perfect shape wearing little ripped high waisted denim hot pants and a cropped top (see above pic for rough idea)- this has always been the goal. As i feel like i have been working my butt off in the gym and trying to eat really healthy, I thought the time had come to make my goal a reality and get me some damn hot pants. Apparently, my hips thought differently.
So there I am in Topshop’s harsh bright lighting and horridly unflattering mirrors attempting to squeeze my ass into a size 8 pair of shorts (ok maybe i was being a little too optimistic with the size 8’s). So we go for the 10’s instead and yes they fit but they were honestly the most unflattering piece of clothing i think i have ever worn. I stood there in front of the mirror with the fat on my stomach squeezed up and out of the gap in between where the shorts finished and the croptop started, the tops of my legs looking pale with cellulite and yup more fat and I almost cried.
Then I left the shop and like all the other times when I have had that shit feeling about myself the argument inside my head ensues “it’s just because you’re due your period/maybe you just need to eat a little less/maybe you should just stop eating all together/maybe you should just become a food blogger and spend your days baking cookies and not worrying about your weight/maybe you could just taste the chocolate bar and then spit it out- no hang on i’m pretty sure that’s verging on bulimia and you’d certainly be no good at trying to make yourself sick, scratch that one/maybe you’re over training/maybe you need to do even more exercise/.” There’s plenty more sides that go with this argument but I don’t want to bore you.
And now I just feel fed up. Fed up of counting calories and weighing every gram of food that goes into my mouth, fed up of actually having to think of something healthy to eat rather than eating what I fancy, fed up of feeling guilty when I eat something unhealthy, fed up of doing all this, working my ass off in the gym every. single. day. and STILL feeling shit about myself.
Where does it end? It doesn’t because I’m sure if you spoke to somebody overweight they’d be feeling fed up of getting out of breath walking up the stairs, fed up of people staring, fed up of never finding clothes that fit, fed up of zero energy, and yes fed up of looking in the mirror and feeling shit about themselves too.
So will I ever be completely happy with my body? The answer I think, is sadly, no. Unless of course i find a gold lamp and rub it and a genie pops out and grants me 3 wishes: 1. more wishes (obvs), 2. to eat anything I want and look like Candice Swanepole 3. to win the lottery.
I wonder if I decided right now to just eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, whether I’d be happy. I’d definitely be over weight because I LOVE junk food but would the food happiness outweigh the almost guaranteed body-unhappiness?
Or maybe if I had my ideal body BUT at the cost of all the foods I love whether then I’d be happy, the answer would probably still be no. So you can see, I’m kinda stuck in this place of constantly wanting to look good and constantly wanting to eat.
I suppose the benefit of going down the ‘great body healthy food’ route is that your health isn’t compromised.
And then there’s the whole exercise side of things.
For the most part I loathe exercise. Yup- “katyhemfit” the personal trainer in training and fitness blogger ain’t to keen on actually working out?! That’s because at heart, I’m a lazy girl.
But there’s also a constant battle in my head between “i want to look skinny and kinda toned and with abs” and “i want to be a strong-ass mother fucker with a big booty and muscles and a 6 pack”.
So then you need to workout in a different way depending on which body type you want.
So some days I train for the former body type and on other days i train for the latter because I can’t really decide which one I want. It’s so confusing and stressful for my brain- I mean, make your mind up girl!
What makes it even harder is the constant messages we get bombarded with all over social media and the internet
Love your curves!
Eat carbs to lose weight
Cut carbs to lose weight
Use a waist trainer
Drink detox teas
Do more cardio
Do less cardio
Accept your body right now!
Girls should be strong
Muscley girls are manly
The hardest part is, it doesn’t matter how many people tell you you look great- hell, Channing Tatum could tell me I looked great but today, I wouldn’t even believe him. Literally the ONLY person in the entire world who can make me feel completely good about how I look, is me.
Ultimately, it’s about finding a balance between both good food and bad food- exercise and relaxing- unfortunately I’m an all or nothing kinda girl and a once a week nutella binge just ain’t enough- I crave that shit in my soul everyday. It’s hard, it’s so fucking hard and I doubt that’s ever going to change.
The frustrating thing is, you’ll probably see me post a pic on Instagram tomorrow and as if by magic my abs will have re-appeared and i’ll be feeling good again (for a half hour or so).
So, the honest truth about weightloss? It’s fucking hard.
The solution- well for me i don’t think there is one. I shall forever be yo-yo-ing between feeling shit about myself and feeling moderately ok with myself. Unless of course I can find me a genie.
I’m off to rub some lamps…
I hope this blog post related to at least one person. I’ve never been so honest in a post before- pouring my little old heart out in the hopes that someone else will feel they’re not the only one feeling like this.
Just remember fat or thin, tanned or pale, health freak or junk food lover- we’re all the same so never make any one else feel rubbish about their body. Believe me, they do it enough themselves.