Now, I want you all to know, I haven't been avoiding my blog, nor have I abandoned my post (haha, blog humor!) at all. The real reason why I haven't updated yet?
Not much has happened.
And I refuse to be one of those people; the ones who update every minute of their lives every single minute detail that has possibly occured to them. If that's your only love in life, than kudos. But I am not Miley Cyrus, and my life doesn't warrant the kinds of things that the rich and famous are exposed to.
On top of all that, this week, and next week, is midterms....I had two this week, and one was in a foreign language....needless to say, I saw more of Hayden Library than my dorm room. I was too focused on studying to worry about my blog, so HA!
Anyway....an update. You should all be pleased to know that today marks the end of my 12th day of my weight loss plan. And I am super stoked about this! I have been more concious about what I eat, what's in the food I do eat, exercising and drinking plenty of fluids. It helps that the annual Fall Farmer's Market stopped by this week, so I loaded up on fresh produce that has me getting all excited and stuff.
This is very important to me, and I am so proud of myself for having kept it up, especially during this week, when stress + exams usually = compulsive eating. I am disciplined. I am in control. I am going to succeed.
That's my daily mantra, and every time one of the Barrett desserts looks particularly yummy (and this is during breakfast, lunch, AND dinner, not to mention the all you can eat Gelato bar) that I repeat it to myself. It also helps for me to look through the many magazines I now subscribe to (because apart from Bon Appetit and Home & Garden there were NO magazines in my house), to find some ridiculously expensive item, and picture myself, 90+ lbs lighter, and in said ridiculously expensive item.
But on to another subject...
Anyone who goes to, or has been to, a relatively large or bustling college campus can attribute the fact that, more often than not, a plethora of bikes can be found. Everything from racers, mooutain bikes, cruisers, POS bars with two wheels, and the very strange mini bike that looks more suited to a toddler than to a perfectly well-proportioned college male (but I won't dally on that)
The same is true for ASU. We are one of the largest colleges (with 4, almost 5 separate campuses, not to mention the online schooling) in the country, and we are in the sun for most of the year. It is a natural occurence that, should you have a class all the way across campus from where you live (in which 5 of my 6 classes are) a bike is a necessity to get from place to place without wasting hours of your day. Plus, it's cheaper than bringing your car to campus and paying for a year long permit in one of the garages. I myself am the owner of a cute aqua and white beach cruiser, that yes, may be a bit sqeaky, but runs perfectly fine and gets me where I need to go.
But what they don't tell you in those glossy college brochures that are, by now, being mailed out to hopeful high school Seniors, are the perils of biking on campus. I am now going to walk you through the different, all true, aspects.
1.) No Bike Lanes
*Apart from the official traffic bike lanes, of which there are many, there are no set bike lanes within the actual campus. Pedestrians and bikers alike are forced onto the common pathways, and I've seen more than one collision during rush hour (prime class time for students; anywhere from 8am-12pm, and 2pm-5pm). It ain't pretty, folks. And then the pedestrians get all pissed off, so then the bikers get ticked off, and sooner than later a full on brawl breaks out. Dearest Pedestrians....contrary to what you may believe, we bikers are not out to purposely run into you and cause you to drop your Starbucks frappucino all over your $200 jeans. But, when we call out a 'heads-up!' or an 'on your left/right!' and you decide to smile and ignore us, it is fair to say that we warned you, and it is your own fault for not moving out of the way. Sorry.
2.) The Rivalry
*There is an ongoing rivalry between modes of transportation on campus. The people with the cars taunt everyone who doesn't have one, i.e. pedestrians, bikers, longboarders, scooter-ers, anyone without four wheels and an engine. In turn, once they are physically ON the campus, are at the mercy of those with a smaller means of transportation, i.e. bikers, longboarders, scooter-ers. The true rivalry are between the bikers and the longboarders, with people riding scooters just barely surpassing pedestrians. Who can look cooler while getting class? Who can move faster? I, in my relative experience, have found that while yes, longboards/skateboards are much smaller, mobile, don't require a lock, and can be faster, they are also more prone to tripping over jagged cracks in pavement and causing the rider to do a stumbling air-run for five seconds before falling to the ground. Likewise, while bikes are harder to manage in a crowd, and require a good lock to keep safe, they are better for transporting large items, are less prone to un-seating their riders, and can be faster as well. For me, it's a tie.
3.) The Police
*At ASU, you don't only have to fear the cops giving you a ticket if you park longer than your meter allows. There's also a bike division at the college PD, and if you are found to be violating one of the many biking laws, you can also get written up and fined for that as well. Luckily for me, I was raised by two cops, and one of them, although retired, works for the ASU PD, so I was well briefed on the all the codes beforehand.
Indeed, the perils of biking are many and varied, and yet, I find myself enjoying every minute of it. Including the time I almost mowed down this guy by accident (in my defense, I was going downhill and he came out of NOWHERE) and narrowly avoided the collision by careening into the grass and slightly toppling over. The guy, who was very cute btw, felt so bad that he bought me an iced green tea and we ended up talking about classes (we both have a Communication class).
Needless to say, so far, so good.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Day 1 - Post Recap
And so it has begun...
So day one has come to a close. I've decided that I'll be posting at the end of each day, since so much seems to happen on a college campus! (Not to mention the fact that four of my five days have a class from 6-7:15pm, so there's so much left for activities!)
It was honestly a pretty standard day. Go to class. Like/Hate class. Do homework/sleep. Repeat. It really wasn't all that exciting, except for my meeting with my History Professor, during which we discussed the topic of my Honors Research Paper (a project in addition to his class in which I can potentially get honors credit for a non-honors course). Tudor women anyone?
After spending a good 45 minutes feeling like a lost mouse in the Hayden Library, I left the massive building with three books in tow, a growling stomach, and desperate need to check Facebook.
Ah, the addictions of Facebook.
I've got to say, my History course is absolutely, positively my most favorite class of this semester. I could sit through a two hour lecture and never get bored (strange, since its *snore* history, but since I am a History Major, it would seem to make sense....)
We're covering the Renaissance right now. The Medicis. Da Vinci vs. Michelangelo. The Spanish Inquisition. Machiavelli. Torture of new and innovative times. It's great fun.
Tomorrow, I have what I call my blah day. Two of the three classes I'm taking are required, easy A classes, and the third is a repetition of the reading assigned, so I spend my day biking all over the campus (and for those who don't know how FREAKING HUGE Arizona State is, that's enough cardio to fill my quota, in addition to working out).
And speaking of which....
I've stayed under my calorie count for the past two days. Yippee! Bad news? The iced tea and Starbucks coffees that I have been addicted to for the past five years are a huge waste of empty calories, calories I cannot afford to lost to a frothy, delectable concoction of espresso, creme, and pumpkin flavoring (because its Fall, and Pumpkin Spiced Frappucinos are my FAVE!!) Sigh.
However, I have contented myself to filling up my empty bottles of Gold Peak Iced Tea with the water from our state of the art dining hall, in which huge containers of iced water are soaked with natural flavor from slices of oranges, melons, and other various fruit to make it a delicious, refreshing and healthy.
We'll see how long I can keep that delusion up.
And I'm thinking of checking out the gym tomorrow morning. When nobody's there. And I can sweat profusely without fit and toned Plastics giving me the stank eye.
To be continued...
So day one has come to a close. I've decided that I'll be posting at the end of each day, since so much seems to happen on a college campus! (Not to mention the fact that four of my five days have a class from 6-7:15pm, so there's so much left for activities!)
It was honestly a pretty standard day. Go to class. Like/Hate class. Do homework/sleep. Repeat. It really wasn't all that exciting, except for my meeting with my History Professor, during which we discussed the topic of my Honors Research Paper (a project in addition to his class in which I can potentially get honors credit for a non-honors course). Tudor women anyone?
After spending a good 45 minutes feeling like a lost mouse in the Hayden Library, I left the massive building with three books in tow, a growling stomach, and desperate need to check Facebook.
Ah, the addictions of Facebook.
I've got to say, my History course is absolutely, positively my most favorite class of this semester. I could sit through a two hour lecture and never get bored (strange, since its *snore* history, but since I am a History Major, it would seem to make sense....)
We're covering the Renaissance right now. The Medicis. Da Vinci vs. Michelangelo. The Spanish Inquisition. Machiavelli. Torture of new and innovative times. It's great fun.
Tomorrow, I have what I call my blah day. Two of the three classes I'm taking are required, easy A classes, and the third is a repetition of the reading assigned, so I spend my day biking all over the campus (and for those who don't know how FREAKING HUGE Arizona State is, that's enough cardio to fill my quota, in addition to working out).
And speaking of which....
I've stayed under my calorie count for the past two days. Yippee! Bad news? The iced tea and Starbucks coffees that I have been addicted to for the past five years are a huge waste of empty calories, calories I cannot afford to lost to a frothy, delectable concoction of espresso, creme, and pumpkin flavoring (because its Fall, and Pumpkin Spiced Frappucinos are my FAVE!!) Sigh.
However, I have contented myself to filling up my empty bottles of Gold Peak Iced Tea with the water from our state of the art dining hall, in which huge containers of iced water are soaked with natural flavor from slices of oranges, melons, and other various fruit to make it a delicious, refreshing and healthy.
We'll see how long I can keep that delusion up.
And I'm thinking of checking out the gym tomorrow morning. When nobody's there. And I can sweat profusely without fit and toned Plastics giving me the stank eye.
To be continued...
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Re-Do...Fresh Start
Okay, so I'm obviously a horrible blogger. I believe that I only created this blog because I was desperate to talk to somebody, other than the people I saw on a day to day basis. It didn't matter whether anyone read my blog, or commented on it, or even liked it; I just needed to TALK!
Fast forward to nearly four months later, and here we are.
For those of you who had read my sob story about St. Andrews, I think it is pretty apparent that since I didn't immediately post a response, I am not haunting the halls of a castle in Scotland. Sigh. Instead, I am a student at Barrett, the Honors College at Arizona State University. Go Sun Devils!
So, I'm about a month into school (holy crap! a freaking MONTH???) and I am still getting into the swing of things. I'm taking 17 credit hours, (which, for those who don't know, is A LOT) 6 of which I'm doing for Honors credit. My first two weeks, I was living the high life: I was in the room right next to the laundry facilities, had two suitemates who love to party but are really funny, and my actual roommate never showed up. Now, everyone knows that dorm space is pretty non-existent, but imagine this; a double room, meant for two people, with only one person living in it. It was a luxury; it was a haven for those who needed to get out; it was my first taste of real interior designing, and a discovery that I'm very good at it.
I was living in college real estate heaven. But I should have known it wasn't meant to last.
About a week ago, I got a roommate. Not my original, but a transfer. She wasn't getting along with her original roomie and decided to move. Lucky me, I was the only vacancy in the building. Long sigh.
I learned very quickly that the worse kind of people are those who are rude and obnoxious, and then sugarcoat it in a thick, sticky syrup of sweetness. Because you can't tell whether they're actually nice, and they come across as rude (in which you want to give the person the benefit of the doubt) or whether they're rude, they know that they're rude, but they will try and trick you anyway (because who knows what you may have to offer them?)
I won't go into the details of the Move In From Hell, which happened on a Tuesday night. I will not lament the Suitemate Missile Crisis, in which I had to take steps from preventing one of my suitemates from murdering my roommate (which I'm starting to regret). I will not bore you with the particulars of the Battle of the Corner, which came to a strategic cease-fire before casualties were counted. And dear God, I won't go into the IKEA Shelf Offensive; that left me with nightmares for days.
Needless to say, it's been an eventful few weeks here in the Valley of the Sun. But this was not the point of this (now ridiculously long) post.
I decided that I needed a diary of some sort; I'm a writer, so it shouldn't be that difficult to sit down at the end of the day an talk about what happened. But I've found that every time I sat down, with the intention of writing about me, I ended up writing about others. My family, my friends, my frenemies and crushes and my Arch-Nemesis who, thankfully, is not in my life (nothing happened to her, she's just going to a different school). I wouldn't write about me. And now that I am in college, and I'm not surrounded by my mom and best friends, who I would usually spill all to, I find that it would be best to start now, in a new chapter of my life. My goals and hopes, my likes and dislikes, what I'm excited for and what I dread to see come.
So why this blog? Why, if it's to be so intimate, would I want it out for the entire world to see?
1) I don't entirely trust my roommate not to invade my personal space and read it, and I might write about her, and while I can keep up a friendly, calm facade in person, something tells me that life would become even more of a living Hell were she to find it. At least my laptop is protected.
2) I'm a talker; I'm Italian, and from Jersey, so it's kind of a double whammy. And I need to pretend that someone is listening to me, even if, in reality, there's no one there. A physical diary would literally be me talking to a blank book, and while I usually talk to the books I read (don't judge) they have characters, and stories and plots. I learned once from a very wise source never to trust a physical diary (thank you J.K. Rowling!)
and 3) I have no idea if anyone will read this, but if they do, maybe they can relate to me and my story, to my struggles and setbacks and goals that I've overcome. And for that, I'm willing to make my private life just a little more public.
And so it begins...
But here's the real catch as to why I'm doing this. I need a change. A drastic change in my life, one that's been a long time coming and just recently been a wake-up call.
I know that you've all seen the weight-loss shows, and the commercials for products and surgeries, guaranteed to 'change the way you look and feel'. They're endorsed by celebrities and starlets and 'real people' who have used these products with 'great success'. You've all seen them, you've all mocked them, and sometimes, you just plain ignore them. I've done it all too, and if you're worried that this is going to be some weight-loss journey story, don't worry; all of the entertaining details of my daily life will be here too.
I've been overweight for most of my entire life. I'm eighteen years old. That's not a lot of life to begin with, but to have been overweight for most of it, it isn't a pretty picture.
I'd never been thin; I would never, will never, be one of those runway model girls who can eat all freaking day long and not gain a pound. But I was healthy. I was active. And to be honest, I don't know what happened.
Somewhere along the way, the issue of my weight became talked about. My parents talked about it. My aunts and uncles talked about it. Even my grandparents talked about it. They were concerned. They loved me and wanted me to be happy, and carrying around this extra weight was not safe.
Please understand that my family was never cruel, not in the way boys and girls are to those who are different from them. They wanted to help me, to motivate me to better myself and enjoy my youth.
I've done many programs. Nutrisystem, Jenny Craig, Atkins, Weight Watchers, etc. and nothing ever really worked for me (granted, Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem did help me lose weight, but once I was off of the program, that weight came right back). Eventually, I think I just convinced myself that it wasn't too bad; that God made me this way and I should love who I am, the way I am. And for a while, I was happy.
That happiness was delusional. All throughout my childhood, and throughout high school, I was a dancer. I was President of my team my Senior year. I was a good choreographer, innovative with ideas, and though not as progressed technically as I could've been, people were drawn to me and the way I danced (I'm not arrogant. It was a fact that I could perform, that I loved to perform, and that even though I couldn't extend my leg above my head without assistance, I could dance).
I guess I thought that if I prayed hard enough, if I threw enough coins into the wishing fountain, the weight would just magically come off. I went about my life, slowly becoming unhappier and unhappier as the days went by. It didn't help that my group of friends were all of the Pretties (not Plastic, but Pretty - they played mutliple sports, were in honors classes, were ridiculous in their attractiveness, [btw I'm totally straight, but I can still notice when a girl is Kate Hudson pretty] and had the guys falling over them. Oh, and they were genuinely nice.) I was surrounded by Pretty People, with Pretty Hair, and Pretty Clothes and DEAR GOD WHY???
I now go to ASU: aka, Land of the Mega-Pretties/Plastics/Trash. On a college survey, Arizona State was listed to have some of the most attractive college-aged girls in the country, in one place. It's sunny, it's hot, and we've got football, basketball, baseball, hockey, rugby, etc. There's girls that walk around in next to nothing when they go to class, when they work out, and don't even get me started on their party outfits. And the guys LOVE it! I mean, in one night, a guy can meet a girl who'll become the best friend a guy could ask for (known as Cool Chick Status), a girl he can hook up with, no strings attached (known as Trash Material), a girl who he can take to a function and be the envy of every other guy there (known as Plastic Status) and a girl who is beautiful, inside and out, and who will eventually be his girlfriend (Mega-Pretty Status).
I learned, very quickly, that with my quick wit, tendency for sarcasm, fast talking and chill persona, that I fall under the Cool Chick Status. Which is great, and that's fantastic, but not what I wanted to get out of college. Yes, I want to graduate with Honors, and receive a double major and a foreign language minor; yes, I want to go to grad school in D.C.; yes, I want to meet amazing new friends, guys and girls alike. But, Holy Mother of GOD, a girl wants to be wined and dined too! I refuse to be friend-zoned for another four years. Been there, done that, so not riding that boat again.
That was my wake up call. I'm not unattractive; I have (or so every hair stylist tells me) fabulous hair, gorgeous blue/green/gray eyes, a pretty nice face, and I know how to dress for the occasion. I realized, almost with comical shock, that the reason I may not be 'attractive', is because I'm lugging a few extra pounds around. I've come to the conclusion that if a guy didn't like me, like me, and I was at an ideal weight, it would be out of my control. It would be his problem, not mine. And I could deal with that. But as of right now, every time I know that I'm only liked as a friend, I can't help but wonder, "What if...?"
After such jarring thoughts came the real shock. I weighed myself, and I realized that not only was I carrying around extra weight, but that I was carrying almost 100 lbs extra of it! People, I'm five foot four, built like a swimmer (broad shoulders), and underneath it all, I did cheerleading, dancing, horseback riding and gymnastics. There was muscle somewhere beneath it all. Ideally, I should be 120 lbs. This was not okay. And on top of it all, seeing all of these girls around me in midriff baring tops, and short shorts, and having the time of their lives, on a daily basis, was not doing me any favors.
And so here we are: the true reason I started blogging again. I want to lose weight. I want to be slim, svelte, and able to wear the clothes I think are amazing. I want to throw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and not worry about whether some unattractive things are on display. I don't want to be on my guard every time I meet someone new, or when I'm sitting outside reading my Global Politics textbook. I want to meet a guy and not wonder whether he won't like me because of my weight. I don't want to use my weight as an excuse anymore.
But, for such a lofty journey, I need an end goal. And I've come up with a list of goals/rewards that, when I do lose this weight, I will spoil myself with.
Rewards
1) New wardrobe. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Plus shoes. LOVE shoes.
2) Books. My favorite Disney Princess is Belle. If I could, I'd want her library.
3) New swim suits. Seems strange, but living in the sun for nearly 320 days a year means bikinis, monokinis, and in-betweenies. I want swimsuits to show off my figure.
4) A makeover. Go to a spa, get a massage, facial, mani-pedi, and get a whole new look. I don't want anyone to recognize me, and when they do, I want them to say, "Daaaaamn!"
5) I want several tattoos, all small, all meaningful to me in one way or another. One I wan on my right hip, diagonal from my belly button. I want to get it done and not have a gut to suck in. EVER AGAIN.
Goals
1) To make the ASU Spirit Squad. I was a cheerleader for 11 years of my life, a dancer for 13. I want to go to tryouts in the Spring/Summer, tryout, and make the team. This is my main goal, the carrot on the stick that I'm chasing after, crying over, beating my head against the wall for. These girls are gorgeous, talented and healthy. And they know it.
2) Next Fall, I want to Rush. Yes, I know what you're thinking; why would I want that and all that it entails? Because. I want to walk around in a neon tank top, looking untouchable. I want to go to the parties/mixers in strange costumes and not feel self-conscious. I want my Devil Wears Prada moment!
I started today. I downloaded a calorie counter app onto my iPhone (which I just got. Yeah!). I plan to work out five days a week. So far, I've eaten an egg white omelette with spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes and bell peppers, with fruit salad and cranberry juice. If I stick to the plan, by October 21st, I should've have lost 10 pounds.
And so it begins....
Fast forward to nearly four months later, and here we are.
For those of you who had read my sob story about St. Andrews, I think it is pretty apparent that since I didn't immediately post a response, I am not haunting the halls of a castle in Scotland. Sigh. Instead, I am a student at Barrett, the Honors College at Arizona State University. Go Sun Devils!
So, I'm about a month into school (holy crap! a freaking MONTH???) and I am still getting into the swing of things. I'm taking 17 credit hours, (which, for those who don't know, is A LOT) 6 of which I'm doing for Honors credit. My first two weeks, I was living the high life: I was in the room right next to the laundry facilities, had two suitemates who love to party but are really funny, and my actual roommate never showed up. Now, everyone knows that dorm space is pretty non-existent, but imagine this; a double room, meant for two people, with only one person living in it. It was a luxury; it was a haven for those who needed to get out; it was my first taste of real interior designing, and a discovery that I'm very good at it.
I was living in college real estate heaven. But I should have known it wasn't meant to last.
About a week ago, I got a roommate. Not my original, but a transfer. She wasn't getting along with her original roomie and decided to move. Lucky me, I was the only vacancy in the building. Long sigh.
I learned very quickly that the worse kind of people are those who are rude and obnoxious, and then sugarcoat it in a thick, sticky syrup of sweetness. Because you can't tell whether they're actually nice, and they come across as rude (in which you want to give the person the benefit of the doubt) or whether they're rude, they know that they're rude, but they will try and trick you anyway (because who knows what you may have to offer them?)
I won't go into the details of the Move In From Hell, which happened on a Tuesday night. I will not lament the Suitemate Missile Crisis, in which I had to take steps from preventing one of my suitemates from murdering my roommate (which I'm starting to regret). I will not bore you with the particulars of the Battle of the Corner, which came to a strategic cease-fire before casualties were counted. And dear God, I won't go into the IKEA Shelf Offensive; that left me with nightmares for days.
Needless to say, it's been an eventful few weeks here in the Valley of the Sun. But this was not the point of this (now ridiculously long) post.
I decided that I needed a diary of some sort; I'm a writer, so it shouldn't be that difficult to sit down at the end of the day an talk about what happened. But I've found that every time I sat down, with the intention of writing about me, I ended up writing about others. My family, my friends, my frenemies and crushes and my Arch-Nemesis who, thankfully, is not in my life (nothing happened to her, she's just going to a different school). I wouldn't write about me. And now that I am in college, and I'm not surrounded by my mom and best friends, who I would usually spill all to, I find that it would be best to start now, in a new chapter of my life. My goals and hopes, my likes and dislikes, what I'm excited for and what I dread to see come.
So why this blog? Why, if it's to be so intimate, would I want it out for the entire world to see?
1) I don't entirely trust my roommate not to invade my personal space and read it, and I might write about her, and while I can keep up a friendly, calm facade in person, something tells me that life would become even more of a living Hell were she to find it. At least my laptop is protected.
2) I'm a talker; I'm Italian, and from Jersey, so it's kind of a double whammy. And I need to pretend that someone is listening to me, even if, in reality, there's no one there. A physical diary would literally be me talking to a blank book, and while I usually talk to the books I read (don't judge) they have characters, and stories and plots. I learned once from a very wise source never to trust a physical diary (thank you J.K. Rowling!)
and 3) I have no idea if anyone will read this, but if they do, maybe they can relate to me and my story, to my struggles and setbacks and goals that I've overcome. And for that, I'm willing to make my private life just a little more public.
And so it begins...
But here's the real catch as to why I'm doing this. I need a change. A drastic change in my life, one that's been a long time coming and just recently been a wake-up call.
I know that you've all seen the weight-loss shows, and the commercials for products and surgeries, guaranteed to 'change the way you look and feel'. They're endorsed by celebrities and starlets and 'real people' who have used these products with 'great success'. You've all seen them, you've all mocked them, and sometimes, you just plain ignore them. I've done it all too, and if you're worried that this is going to be some weight-loss journey story, don't worry; all of the entertaining details of my daily life will be here too.
I've been overweight for most of my entire life. I'm eighteen years old. That's not a lot of life to begin with, but to have been overweight for most of it, it isn't a pretty picture.
I'd never been thin; I would never, will never, be one of those runway model girls who can eat all freaking day long and not gain a pound. But I was healthy. I was active. And to be honest, I don't know what happened.
Somewhere along the way, the issue of my weight became talked about. My parents talked about it. My aunts and uncles talked about it. Even my grandparents talked about it. They were concerned. They loved me and wanted me to be happy, and carrying around this extra weight was not safe.
Please understand that my family was never cruel, not in the way boys and girls are to those who are different from them. They wanted to help me, to motivate me to better myself and enjoy my youth.
I've done many programs. Nutrisystem, Jenny Craig, Atkins, Weight Watchers, etc. and nothing ever really worked for me (granted, Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem did help me lose weight, but once I was off of the program, that weight came right back). Eventually, I think I just convinced myself that it wasn't too bad; that God made me this way and I should love who I am, the way I am. And for a while, I was happy.
That happiness was delusional. All throughout my childhood, and throughout high school, I was a dancer. I was President of my team my Senior year. I was a good choreographer, innovative with ideas, and though not as progressed technically as I could've been, people were drawn to me and the way I danced (I'm not arrogant. It was a fact that I could perform, that I loved to perform, and that even though I couldn't extend my leg above my head without assistance, I could dance).
I guess I thought that if I prayed hard enough, if I threw enough coins into the wishing fountain, the weight would just magically come off. I went about my life, slowly becoming unhappier and unhappier as the days went by. It didn't help that my group of friends were all of the Pretties (not Plastic, but Pretty - they played mutliple sports, were in honors classes, were ridiculous in their attractiveness, [btw I'm totally straight, but I can still notice when a girl is Kate Hudson pretty] and had the guys falling over them. Oh, and they were genuinely nice.) I was surrounded by Pretty People, with Pretty Hair, and Pretty Clothes and DEAR GOD WHY???
I now go to ASU: aka, Land of the Mega-Pretties/Plastics/Trash. On a college survey, Arizona State was listed to have some of the most attractive college-aged girls in the country, in one place. It's sunny, it's hot, and we've got football, basketball, baseball, hockey, rugby, etc. There's girls that walk around in next to nothing when they go to class, when they work out, and don't even get me started on their party outfits. And the guys LOVE it! I mean, in one night, a guy can meet a girl who'll become the best friend a guy could ask for (known as Cool Chick Status), a girl he can hook up with, no strings attached (known as Trash Material), a girl who he can take to a function and be the envy of every other guy there (known as Plastic Status) and a girl who is beautiful, inside and out, and who will eventually be his girlfriend (Mega-Pretty Status).
I learned, very quickly, that with my quick wit, tendency for sarcasm, fast talking and chill persona, that I fall under the Cool Chick Status. Which is great, and that's fantastic, but not what I wanted to get out of college. Yes, I want to graduate with Honors, and receive a double major and a foreign language minor; yes, I want to go to grad school in D.C.; yes, I want to meet amazing new friends, guys and girls alike. But, Holy Mother of GOD, a girl wants to be wined and dined too! I refuse to be friend-zoned for another four years. Been there, done that, so not riding that boat again.
That was my wake up call. I'm not unattractive; I have (or so every hair stylist tells me) fabulous hair, gorgeous blue/green/gray eyes, a pretty nice face, and I know how to dress for the occasion. I realized, almost with comical shock, that the reason I may not be 'attractive', is because I'm lugging a few extra pounds around. I've come to the conclusion that if a guy didn't like me, like me, and I was at an ideal weight, it would be out of my control. It would be his problem, not mine. And I could deal with that. But as of right now, every time I know that I'm only liked as a friend, I can't help but wonder, "What if...?"
After such jarring thoughts came the real shock. I weighed myself, and I realized that not only was I carrying around extra weight, but that I was carrying almost 100 lbs extra of it! People, I'm five foot four, built like a swimmer (broad shoulders), and underneath it all, I did cheerleading, dancing, horseback riding and gymnastics. There was muscle somewhere beneath it all. Ideally, I should be 120 lbs. This was not okay. And on top of it all, seeing all of these girls around me in midriff baring tops, and short shorts, and having the time of their lives, on a daily basis, was not doing me any favors.
And so here we are: the true reason I started blogging again. I want to lose weight. I want to be slim, svelte, and able to wear the clothes I think are amazing. I want to throw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and not worry about whether some unattractive things are on display. I don't want to be on my guard every time I meet someone new, or when I'm sitting outside reading my Global Politics textbook. I want to meet a guy and not wonder whether he won't like me because of my weight. I don't want to use my weight as an excuse anymore.
But, for such a lofty journey, I need an end goal. And I've come up with a list of goals/rewards that, when I do lose this weight, I will spoil myself with.
Rewards
1) New wardrobe. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Plus shoes. LOVE shoes.
2) Books. My favorite Disney Princess is Belle. If I could, I'd want her library.
3) New swim suits. Seems strange, but living in the sun for nearly 320 days a year means bikinis, monokinis, and in-betweenies. I want swimsuits to show off my figure.
4) A makeover. Go to a spa, get a massage, facial, mani-pedi, and get a whole new look. I don't want anyone to recognize me, and when they do, I want them to say, "Daaaaamn!"
5) I want several tattoos, all small, all meaningful to me in one way or another. One I wan on my right hip, diagonal from my belly button. I want to get it done and not have a gut to suck in. EVER AGAIN.
Goals
1) To make the ASU Spirit Squad. I was a cheerleader for 11 years of my life, a dancer for 13. I want to go to tryouts in the Spring/Summer, tryout, and make the team. This is my main goal, the carrot on the stick that I'm chasing after, crying over, beating my head against the wall for. These girls are gorgeous, talented and healthy. And they know it.
2) Next Fall, I want to Rush. Yes, I know what you're thinking; why would I want that and all that it entails? Because. I want to walk around in a neon tank top, looking untouchable. I want to go to the parties/mixers in strange costumes and not feel self-conscious. I want my Devil Wears Prada moment!
I started today. I downloaded a calorie counter app onto my iPhone (which I just got. Yeah!). I plan to work out five days a week. So far, I've eaten an egg white omelette with spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes and bell peppers, with fruit salad and cranberry juice. If I stick to the plan, by October 21st, I should've have lost 10 pounds.
And so it begins....
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