Don’t worry. I’m not getting on my soapbox twice in one night.
Of course, no one is entitled to fat-shame others, and I doubt it produces the allegedly desired effect of weight loss in the recipient of the shaming.
Unless that recipient is me! That’s right. I’m fat shaming myself. I’m allowed to.
For the past several years my Sketchers have been holding up 200 pounds, or 91 kilograms, of dude. Though I am only of average height, I carry my weight well because I am solidly built. That said, 200 pounds is not great for my health. I didn’t get this way eating carrots.
I decided it was time to lose weight (for real this time). Unfortunately, my willpower is far from amazing, which is why I often diet down to about 195 pounds and then put it right back on.
Two weeks ago, when I started dieting again, I said, “I’m going to do a post about my weight loss goal. Fear of public embarrassment helped me hit the first and second draft deadlines for my novel, so maybe it will work for my diet.”
My Significant Other said, “Yeah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re far more disciplined as a writer than as an eater.”
The actual comment was probably closer to, “Don’t embarrass yourself, Chubsy Ubsy,” but I’m trying to make her look more supportive than she really is.
Anyway, the scale read 195 pounds this morning. My goal is 175.
I’m not setting a deadline because I have no idea how long it will take, and because I don’t need one. I will either continue to lose weight, or I will cave in to the lure of junk food well before I get anywhere close to 175 pounds.
Wish me luck!
If you’re curious, my diet method is the only one that ever works without the assistance of a surgeon: Burning more calories than I take in.