I filled out a questionnaire today.

I watched a video for one of those fitness plans that claims it has it all, right?

It started with a quiz, and then there was a video with answers to all of my problems. It prompted to sell me a million and twelve products like they all do at a significantly discounted price and sure, I considered it and thought it might help.

Maybe it will.
But this isn’t my first rodeo.

I’ve participated in fitness programs, diets and fads almost my entire life. I’ve purchased the packages from beach body and slim n six and all the others that claim they’ll help me get the body of my dreams.

What I didn’t expect?
I didn’t expect to be on the verge of tears trying to figure out what my favorite meals were or because I was trying to define my why for considering the program.

Listen, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m depressed and overweight.

But when I read the questionnaire and tried to fill in those answers I realized that I’ve been “eating healthy” so much that I don’t know what I consider my favorite meal. I realized that I don’t even eat enough in a day. The suggested calories alone in the video were far higher than what I consume in a day, or even two. Food doesn’t make me happy. It doesn’t give me an emotion that I can remember a meal and be like “omg, that was the best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

When I tell you I typed out the following phrases multiple times, only to erase them because they sound so dumb…

– People enjoy food?
– What’s your favorite meal? Add it in, I’ll try it.
– I’m sitting here trying to remember what foods I have eaten and enjoyed.
– How do I tell you that I have only eaten chicken, brown rice and mixed veggies for the last 4 months, with a hint of fast food here and there? Or that if I want to spice it up, I add black beans…
– Is it sad that I can only tell you about the new meals I have tried because I signed up for a sponsorship for a friend with Hello Fresh and that’s the most exciting meal idea that I can come up with?
– How do I tell you that even fast food joints don’t have what I want food-wise.
– As I’m sitting here, I’m trying to think of something, anything that resembles a “non-healthy” meal that you could use to encourage me with this “diet plan” of yours.
– Food is a chore so therefore, I don’t have a favorite I can tell you about…
– Does fruit count?

I think the questionnaire sat open for 30 minutes. Maybe longer.
I don’t know what I enjoy.

And not just with food.

I am but a shell.
I go through the same motions, every day.
I tell you I’m good, or I’m fine, with a genuine smile, but I’m hiding the fact that I am numb. So numb, I can’t even tell you my favorite food.

I put that I love fruit, by the way. That was as thorough as I could get for the questionnaire because I immediately drew a blank and I lowkey have no idea what foods I love.

The real question is when did I become like this?

Was it after 75Hard, when I followed a program to the T and lost 45 pounds only to gain 50 pounds back over 2 months?

Or was it when I committed my every waking moment to helping others and doing everything I could for them, only to put myself on the backburner once again?

Maybe it was when I realized that I fight a losing battle with weight, every day. Or the fact that people only judge me for my size when I have so much more to offer.

Perhaps it was when I was 11 and thought I needed to eat a certain way and exercise every single day to be this skinnier version of myself so that people would love me when in reality, I wasn’t fat at all. But my 11 year old mind was so consumed with my ex step dad leaving me because I was a hormonoal teenager and he was “in love” with his girlfiend. She only wanted his “true” biological kids as her family, though. Not me, the one he’d raised from birth.

If I could go back to my younger self, I would tell her that food isn’t an enemy. That life is fucked up and short, and it isn’t about her outward looks. That even though 80% of the people in her life have left her up until now, there are still people in this world that love her and don’t care what she looks like. They just want her happy. I would tell her that it’s okay to laugh out loud, even if people judge her for how she laughs. And that it’s okay to speak her mind, especially about food and exercising. I’d tell her she doesn’t have to be afraid of everyone and what they think. That she doesn’t have to please these people. They can stay, or they can leave, but that doesn’t define her.

The people that stay, they are the ones that want her to enjoy life. They want what’s best for her and support her in her dreams and goals.

Even if it’s something small like remembering her favorite meal.

Moral of my story, y’all…
Fuck society.

Embrace who you are.
Know your favorite fucking meal.

Because life is too god damn short to not know what meal you’d eat every day if you could.

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