I should preface this post with some humility. I have always been very petite in stature. I understand that this doesn’t make me special or anything, it just means I’ve had a pretty high metabolism. When I was a kid I ate like shit, and if I’m being completely honest, I probably continued to eat crappy fried and processed foods up until I was about twenty-three. No matter what I ate during that time though, I still maintained relatively the same weight.
Boy, do I miss those days. There’s not a day that goes by now that I don’t wish I could hop in a time machine, find my stupid skinny ass, and knock the fucking extra-large Wendy’s Chili out of my hand . . . No shade to Wendy’s, I still have dreams about eating quarts of that chili, it’s amazing.
It’s probably also a good idea to let anyone reading this know that, when I was in high school I was a pretty shy kid with crooked teeth that had zero confidence talking to any human that I didn’t know. I understood very clearly, that I was not the prettiest, I did not have big boobs to brag about, I didn’t have great hair, and I couldn’t play sports. But if you asked what I liked about myself physically, I would say that I liked how my body looked.
I look at my little sister, who’s a spitting image of what I used to look like, and I’m actually jealous that she just gets to eat whatever she wants and has an amazing body. My little sister is a dancer by-the-way, so her current body right now is in reality probably ten times more impressive than mine ever was. But still! I feel like I do a lot to achieve a healthy lifestyle. I go to yoga, I don’t eat red meat, I’ve replaced most of the delicious fried foods that I used to eat with kale and spinach, and I drink so much water every day that I have to pee literally every twenty minutes.
Meanwhile, my sister eats trash and doesn’t exercise and she looks like a hot little twig with bigger boobs than me! Figures, I would gain weight everywhere except my chest. Today, if I ate a salad right now, I would look like I was in my second trimester. It’s like all-of-a-sudden my body has separation anxiety with food. I wish I could go back to the days when I had a rockin’ bod . . . Now I’m left with a bod that’s had a rock thrown at it.