The Battle Must End...

This might be my most revealing and personal blog yet.. so bear with me. 

Oh, my life long battle with my weight. Here's the story. 

When I hit puberty at the tender age of 11, I was a hot tottie. I had a nice shape, pretty (acne free!) face, and I had boobies!! I knew early on that I was a little more over developed than my friends, most of which were not as well endowed as I was. I remember giving my friends pep talks because they would compare themselves to me, and I'd say "don't worry, you'll get yours soon." As time passed, my boobs grew to become what was "Sasha." Everywhere I went I was the girl with the big breasts. People would introduce me as "this is the girl I was telling you about." Talk about awkward... and uncomfortable.

When I was almost 12, I was heading at a dangerous pace and getting fat, quick. My mother noticed and took me to a nutritionist where I managed to lose 16 pounds. Alright girl! But as I left middle school, I knew that things were just going to get worse. I became overly concerned about my weight, not realizing that I was not fat, rather, extremely well endowed. As a teenage girl, with friends who were mainly dancers, I often felt out of place because I didn't have the same body as they did. I went to an all-girl school, yet I still found myself hiding under two bras, becoming more and more self conscious about my weight as time passed. 

Enter college. 

 

Those of you who have lived on a college campus know that if there's free food, you better be there! I wasn't eating right, and began to really put on some weight. My breasts became so heavy that I would fantasize about just chopping them off. My friends didn't understand me because most of them were thin and didn't see why I didn't embrace those knockers. My family didn't understand me. My mom is petite and my father thinks that I have no self control. When you live on campus you eat what you can. I did manage to go to the gym and stay active, but as my breasts continued to grow, and the back pains and muscle spasm followed, the only thing I could do was gain weight to support the growing watermelons I had to lug around. 

Finally, at 19 I reached my breaking point and explained to my parents that I wanted to enjoy my youth and they knew I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't tell anyone my plans, maybe two people, and I went during spring break and had a breast reduction. 

The morning before my surgery

After my surgery I thought I was going to start off with a clean slate. Boobies are gone, I will be happy now. Wrong. Now I had to lose the 30lbs that I put on within my first 2 years of college. I tried and tried, even when people thought I wasn't. My doctor would constantly criticize me, I'd hear it from family, and I tortured myself daily. I knew something was wrong. I used trainers, tried pills, countless diets, but I wouldn't be able to lose more than 10lbs, and gain them right back. It wasn't until I was 21 that I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome). This causes issues with hormones, which can essentially create an issue with weight gain. That summer I brought a good friend to live with me so that we could lose weight and start a healthy living together. Something about doing this with someone really motivates me. Together we lost almost 30lbs, and felt pretty damn good about ourselves. 

It didn't take long to put some of that weight back on, especially when I stopped working out. This seems to be my main problem. It's not so much my self control or food intake, it's my lack of physical activity. Yea, I enjoy going out to eat, but I've never really overindulged to the point to be at the weight I currently find myself at. I have my days where I feel super fantastic, and others where I just feel like me and Precious could swap clothes from each others closet. I often feel like a failure. Why can't I just finish what I've started? I lack motivation most of the time, especially when I'm not seeing the results even when people around me do. 

I don't have a problem with men. Even with all of my excess weight, I can still "bag", as the young kids say. My insecurities partially play into effect because of a situation I went through with someone who as nice as he was, was very shallow. I knew I wasn't his type, but somehow I managed to attract him-- maybe it was just my charming personality and hypnotizing smile. Deep down I knew it wouldn't last because he was not keen on people knowing I existed to him in romantic way. Not for nothing but this girl is a pretty good catch! Any man who has been associated with me knows this. So to you sir, I say... your loss. 

Anyway, after being on some medication which caused me to gain a few extra pounds, I have decided to invest my whole being into living a healthier life, period. Despite what I weigh, I want to look and feel good. I've been taking baby steps, but I see things improving. Fighting a battle with the scale is not one which I'm trying to continue to go through for the rest of my life. I came off of those stupid meds, and am sure now that I have 100% focus, I will prevail. 

Time will tell. 

Four years later.