Summer is a time when many women feel insecure about their bodies. We scroll through our social media feeds and stumble across the usual beach bikini photos from others, only to roll our eyes with the least bit of interest.
When you’re bigger than a size 14, it gets pretty depressing to see these pictures over and over again and realize that no matter how hard you try, you might never have the courage to do the same.
We all long for the days of fall and sweater weather when we can cover up our entire bodies and not pass out from heat exhaustion. For the majority of my life, I have fallen into this category.
I’ve struggled with my weight for a very long time. Each year, I would go in for my annual physical and see the numbers rise on the scale beneath my feet. As I got older, it began to plateau, making me feel hopeless and depressed.
I admit that I put this issue on the back burner for years, but I’m not the only one to blame in this situation.
The other side of the blame goes to the negative effects of genetics and that there was more in my DNA besides the magical combination that got me my red hair. My genes were short; five feet short to be exact.
With a recommendation from my doctor back in Feb., I decided to try out a new medication that would give me a boost on losing a few pounds.
I went back for a follow-up a month later and was overjoyed to see that the numbers finally started to decrease. Within six weeks, I lost seven pounds. Eight weeks later, I lost another seven and with summer approaching, I thought that I would try a little harder to lose a total of 20 pounds.
I started taking walks around my neighborhood in mid-June, trying to get at least two miles every day, aiming to finish each week with 10.
It was a pretty relaxing routine. I would put my earbuds in and venture off to my own little world. It was the perfect therapeutic combination that helped clear my mind of the anxiety and depression affecting my life, but the escape didn’t last long.
By the end of July, I noticed that my weight had plateaued again and I worried that my temporary boost might be over. Even if I got my 10 miles in for the week, I would get on the scale and see no difference.
People think I worry too much about numbers and that I should be proud of my accomplishments. My clothes fit better, my skin is so clear that I can see the freckles on my face and while I’m still not ready for the beach bikini photo, I was happy that I looked a lot skinnier in my old bathing suits.
The hardest part about being plus-sized is trying to understand that there is nothing to be ashamed of and that perfection is unattainable.
With all the motivation and praise from others, I still am very self-conscious about the way I look. I know I might never see a size zero in my future, but through this experience, I have regained the hope and determination to make a difference in my own lifestyle.
I did something I thought would take years to accomplish, and it does not stop here. Looking at how far I have come reminds me to never give up hope and to share my story with others who are trying to make a difference for themselves.
I learned that losing weight isn’t just about the numbers on the scale, it’s about making a steady change in your lifestyle and adjusting it to fit your needs.
My advice to anyone who is struggling with the same hardships that I’m still trying to overcome is that change is not an immediate occurrence and the only person standing in your way of making that change is yourself.
Weight loss is a never-ending battle we continue to fight, but the challenge is finding the plus side of being plus-sized.