Confessions from a chubby girl

Confession: this post is already mega hard. I hate to be this kind of vulnerable.

Confession: I'm about 60 pounds heavier than I should be for my gender, height and age. 21 years old. 60 is a big number. It feels too big. It's devastating because I don't even have pregnancy or illness to blame for the extra weight. It's just there. 


Confession: it's not actually the mirror that I hate so much. In fact, sometimes, I like what I see in the mirror. Sure I'd love to lose the belly, but the mirror isn't my worst enemy; its pictures. It's caught off guard, it's not being able to pose the most effectively, it's being caught in an outfit I detest how I look in. It's getting tagged in one of ~those~ pictures. I don't hate what I see in the mirror, I hate what I see in the pictures. 


Confession: I pray to get the weight off. I've watched my eating closely, and then nothing changes, or I just pack more weight on, and I feel frustrated and discouraged. So I stop being so careful. But all the while I'm pleading with Jesus to help me get it off. My weight is just steadily climbing, and I'm looking to Him for help because this isn't healthy, I know that. It's not like I'm stuffing bonbons and Twinkies in every day, I just can't shake the weight. No matter what I've tried. 


Confession: I feel like I look like I don't care about my body because of how massive I am. I do. And I'm trying to take care of it, but I don't have time to dedicate to a regular exercise routine and that frustrates me to no end. So I try to be more active during my days, but I know that's not doing much. 


Confession: sometimes I get out of breath doing the simplest. And I feel like a land yacht when I do. I'm 21! I should be at my healthiest right now. 


Confession: sometimes I feel like the only reason I've never had a relationship is because of my weight. Because no guy can see past the chubby to get to know me. Because I don't have a good body, I'm not worth their time. 


Confession: I've cried off and on writing this post. The humiliation. The shame. The embarrassment. It's so much. But people see pictures of me, and no. I'm not ignorant. I see it. I know it. My jeans tell me every time I put them on. The scale yells at me every time I dare to step foot on. I know I'm not losing the weight like I hoped. I know I'm not losing the weight at all. 


Confession: I'm not giving up. I hate this weight. I hate it enough to keep trying. To keep eating good for me foods, to keep walking the long way just to get in extra steps. I'm going to keep practicing portion control and drinking lots of water. I'm not going to stop trying my very best to be the healthiest me I can be. 


Confession: I dread the struggle, but I can't wait to relish in the ending. When the weight is gone and I'm healthy again. I can't wait to be beautiful inside and out. I can't wait to not hate pictures of me. I can't wait to be able to share clothes with my friends or order off of Jane because I can actually fit them. I can't wait to be able to buy the cheaper junior jeans because I can wear them without looking hoochie. I can't wait to love bathing suits again. I can't wait to want to hangout at the pool with people because I won't be hiding behind my towel any more. I'm ready to be the very best me I can be. 


Confession: I know Jesus isn't a genie who takes away the thorns at the first request. But I also know I can't do this without leaning into Him. This is the body He gave me. And I'm going to take care of it. And I'm going to do it with His help.