If you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me.

Sometimes I wish I could just vanish for 6 months or a year and just go nuts transforming myself, the come back a changed person. The details would all be taken care of, and I could just focus on my grand do-over.

I have my moments of vanity (we all do, get over it) and I would love to come back to shocked and astonished faces, fully able to toot my own horn. I feel like the whole day-by-day painfully gradual and mostly invisible change is kind of a rip-off. I want shock! I want awe! A couple of ooohs and aaaahs would be nice as well.

These thoughts have been in my head for years and years, it's nothing new. It goes right along with the desire for the magic pill or the magic exercise that will make all the fat and lard just vanish. I actually get really down and frustrated because I know that it can't happen.

Then one important fact pops into my head to bring me back to reality: I'm the only one who really sees me every day. Yes, I see a couple of co-workers on a daily basis, but other than that, I go ages without seeing a lot of my family, friends and other co-workers. If I keep on working out, staying on plan and making a concerted effort to transform and recover myself, I might just get a hint of that shock and awe I daydream about.

Anyone who tells you that their weight-loss / body-changing mission is purely for their own health and mental satisfaction is a dirty liar. Yes, our own health and mental satisfaction play a HUGE part in it, but there isn't one of us recovering lardios that doesn't, in their heart of hearts, want to be seen and admired just a little bit once they really start losing the extra flesh.

I believe that as long as the focus remains on the health side of it, a little vanity-based incentive is an incredible motivator. Personally, I am not only doing this for a longer, less painful future, but part of me wants every guy who shot me down to fucking choke on it when he sees what I have achieved. Shallow? Meh, whatever. Is revenge a motivator? You better fucking believe it.

When I think I can't do this I remember the snickers I heard (and still hear) behind my back, and in front of my face. I remember the misery of being an overweight kid. I remember remember the misery of being an overweight adult. I remember what I want out of my life to come. And I remember every goddamn time I was rejected because fat chicks aren't girlfriend material (joke's on them, if they only knew what they were missing out on...).

THESE things get me out of bed in the morning and make me leave the bus ticket in my wallet.
THESE things push me to walk home after a long day at work.
THESE things keep the cobwebs on any take-out menus that are still lingering around my apartment.
THESE things help me to work harder than I ever have in the past.

I want my revenge. I want myself back. I want my body to be mine again. And most importantly, I want myself around for a long, long time. And I know I can't do that with my current physical shell.

I love me, I'm a huge fan of me, because I know what I have to offer and what I can do. Those assholes who wrote me off decades ago have another thing coming. They blew their chance, now I wouldn't mind making them eat shit.

I'm taking over and sorting myself out. Because I know, that there's no one out there that can do it for me. Others have tried, but it's a losing battle. Only I can fight this solitary battle.

One woman army, that's me.

xo
lb