Buns and Guns

Losing weight is hard

Changing your lifestyle or fitness levels is hard

You will make mistakes

You will learn a lot about yourself and those around you

Its OK and normal to be scared that you will fail - lets talk about it

Its OK to be honest about your fears - lets talk about it

Don’t be afraid to change your method or direction if its not working

EY (via latelycravingmore)

I remember when I learnt how to count calories, a “skill” i’ve carried with me throughout the years. A ‘skill’ i used to be so proud of that I was good at. A skill which stopped me eating lunch at school only to binge when I got home because I hadn’t eaten all day. A skill which had me measuring out my muesli at age 14 because I could ONLY eat a serving, not a gram more. A skill which had me running on a treadmill for over an hour because I had eaten a delicious muffin right before. A skill which had me petrified of eating anything that wasn’t on the salad bar from the dining hall. A skill which had me staring enviously at my dorm mates plates as they uncaringly ate waffle fries and chicken nuggets on nugget Tuesday. There are millions of memories like this. Memories I don’t want to remember.

Sometimes I still rest my chin on my collarbone now. Not because its a comfortable position (you try resting your head in that angle....) but to reassure myself that its there. 

That I don’t kill myself in the gym for nothing. Yes it provides me with other things - stress relief for one. But some of that anxiety that comes when I cant work out is because that irrational part of my brain which is still there is convinced that four days away from the gym - day’s spent with family and yes maybe a little more food than usual - is going to turn me into the 90kg girl I used to be. 

A girl I can’t go back to being. A girl I never want to be again. Now look, if you are happy at 90kg then there is nothing wrong with it - I am not trying to fat shame - you can be a healthy 90kg. 

But me, I wasn’t happy. I am 5′3″ (barely) and 90kg on me wasn’t pretty and I wasn’t happy. I was miserable and I still carry that with me. I will go for the size 14, the size L and then am still surprised when they hang off me. I instinctively go for the loose baggy clothes to hide my shape, even though they make look a good 10kg heavier. I don’t even know what I look like anymore my own perception is so warped. 

I want boys to like me but I am so convinced I am too weird, overweight, fat and ugly to let that happen to acknowledge that it might happen, because silly B why would they ever like you? You’re the fat, ugly friend that the wingman talks to so the hot one can get at your friend. Yet I have proof this isn’t the case. And I know part of it is me. Part of me won’t let people get close. And I know that from even just friends. I don’t know why. I know I have standards - that I won’t settle and that is good - but at the same time in 23 years has there been no one I would ever want to be with - or have I just ignored it so much because I am convinced no one ever could? 

Sometimes I know my thinking is distorted, unreasonable, unrational and completely unhealthy. But why don’t I do something to fix it? Why can’t I get myself to a psychologist to fix it? Part of me doesn’t want to because its something to wallow about - something I can depend on - something I can blame everything on. 

Ten Word Poem #6  (via rumour)

this breaks my heart 

(via vu-oto)