I should probably stop calling myself a fatass. It’s just, you tend to go along with the flow when you’re constantly reminded about your eating habits and your weight…especially when it’s coming from your parents. Within the last week, I’ve had my Dad to point out my weight gain and telling me things that I need to do to get my health together. Mind you, he’s saying this while his legs are up drinking a beer and surfing the Internet. The other day, my mom told me I look sloppy. Of all the adjectives in the world she could have used to describe me she chose…sloppy. I love my parents but they speak without using a filter.
I’ve always taken pride in my appearance. I’m very self-conscious. The whole “I’m A Bad Bitch” gene missed me. I was bullied in middle school so I’ve always had this feeling in the back of my mind that people are talking about me in a negative way…it never goes away. I try my best to make sure I look decent. Sloppy? I’m pretty sure it’s because I’d rather wear my Chucks instead of heels or you most likely would catch me in jeans and a random shirt instead getting dolled up all of the time. I’ve always been like this…my mom will never get over it. That’s another issue though, back to my body.
I’ve started working out. And by working out I mean going for walks…it’s a start. I’m still trying to do better with my eating habits…but I mean, yesterday was the 4th of July. Am I supposed to let that hot dog just sit there?
I want to set up some healthy habits before I move to New York. I’m getting it together…I’m getting it together.