No Magic Pill

There is no magic pill for weight loss. Well, I want to know why!

“Because you have to put in the hard work to achieve anything.”

Is that the only prerequisite for a goal worth achieving? That it must be hard work to be worth anything? Because I’ve done the hard work…and it didn’t work. So what now?

I have full confidence in the scientific community to figure this out. There are pills that can fool our bodies into believing we are happy when we’re not. There are pills that take away our pain. Pills that give erections to those who thought they’d never see one again. So why can’t they make a magic weight loss pill? Why can’t they trick my body into metabolizing my food in the same manor that it did when I was sixteen, before I fucked it up by yo-yo dieting for almost twenty years. At this point, I’d settle for it to metabolize the way it did five years ago. Why can’t they develop a pill that will trick my brain into thinking it only wants veggies? Or into thinking processed food tastes bad, or one that will make me vomit uncontrollably until I do my daily workout. Or bleed from the eyes, or something equally terrible.

Which brings me to another point. I’ve heard it a billion times: “It’s a simple formula, work off more than you put in, our bodies are machines, blah blah blah.” If our bodies are machines, then some people got a much more upgraded version than I did. We all have that friend that can eat whatever they want and never gain a pound. The friend that never works out, but could still model underwear in a pinch. (And yet, if you ask her if she’s happy with her weight, nine times out of ten, she’s not.) What?!

Genetically, I got the shaft. God left me right side up when he was filling my goody bag, so all the fat that should have went to my boobs went to my butt instead! Pear-shaped? WRONG, stupid online quiz! I’m duck-shaped! Where’s the perfect swimsuit for that body type? Hmm? I’m also an average height (even though most everyone else in my family is tall), but my legs are short (same length as Levi’s arms), and my torso is short (and my arms for that matter). So guess where all my height is? Yep, it’s in my butt. I have a really tall, really large butt. WTF.

So while I’m already fighting an uphill genetic battle, each time that I fail, I make it harder on myself for the next go around, by doing further damage to my machine, so that it no longer has any idea how to function properly.

And when I go in search of how to fix this, and I find a fuck ton of information on what I should be doing to get in shape – or get healthy – or get fit, whatever you want to call it, and there’s about five bazillion websites and blogs and articles that all contradict each other on the matter.

You want to know what I think? NO ONE KNOWS THE RIGHT ANSWER!! Why does Plan A work so well for Patient X but not Patient Y? They don’t know! There is no blanket answer for weight loss/fitness, and I’m sick of barely treading water in this ocean of “facts”! I’ve put in my time, and I’ve tried this, and I’ve tried that. I’ve starved myself for weeks at a time, all while doing some of the hardest work outs I’ve ever done in my life…and guess what happened? Well, I’m still fat now, even with all the helpful hints and tips and facts and guides and programs and experts!! And I’m not a quitter, and I’m certainly not a person who gives up easily, but there is something in this system that is evading my grasp. I have conquered everything else in my life that I have set my mind to, but I just can’t seem to get this shit to work for me. Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe it.

So yes, I’m “picking myself up again” and I’m telling myself that this time will be different – but will it really??? My track record says a big NOPE, but what am I supposed to do? Just give up?! Nope. I’ve got to get back up and try again. And again. Because you can’t give up on weight loss. Because we have to be in shape!! Right!? Right.

Someone said to me recently, “I just want to wake up one day and be pretty!” This person had tears streaming down their face when they said this. To me, that statement says a lot about what’s broken in our culture. I can’t consider myself pretty because I’m overweight. And I’ll certainly never be good enough, or successful enough. Admit it, you all know that that is the deep underbelly of our world. We can all spout motivational quotes about loving yourself unconditionally, but we look at a fat person, and immediately think that on some level, they have failed. Even I am guilty, and probably worse so because it is something I see in myself that I hate. It doesn’t matter that I’ve achieved many things in my life. At first glance, I’m a failure.

And here comes another fun part – where do you think I seek solace from this pain? Yep. In food. It’s my crack. I’ve beat some terrible addictions in my life – including smoking, which took me half my life to quit, but hey, I did it…But the problem with food is that you can’t just quit eating. It’s still there, every day, taunting me, and testing me. One day I would like to eat something without the constant feedback from my brain that it’s probably too much, or not enough, or has too many calories, or too much fat, or not enough protein or fiber… Gah! Shut up!! I want to be able to just enjoy food, for the pleasure of eating. I haven’t truly enjoyed food since I became aware that I was fatter than other girls…which would have been around age 12.

So I’m done with the dieting. I’ll try to make the best choices that I can, but I’m certainly not perfect, and I have some really fucked up issues with food, so here I am. I’ve admitted I have a problem…can I PLEASE move the hell on with my life?

I’m also done with working out to lose weight. Now I’ll be using it for stress relief and cardiovascular health. Nothing more. I can’t stay on this emotional roller coaster for the rest of my life. I want relief from the pain of being a fat girl, but I can’t keep building up hope just to fail again.

And in my mind, I will continue to torment myself, and try to create love for myself in a size 6 world, with a body that will never be accepted as it is. I can never consider myself beautiful as I am now, and that is something that hurts me on a daily basis. As a human being, I try to avoid pain – but how do you run from this?

You can’t. So you try to fix it…crossing your fingers that this time…this time! You won’t fail. Because I have put in the hard work and the time, and it didn’t work. So what now? My machine is broken, and there is no magic pill.

Yet.

C’mon, science!!!

 

Disclaimer: Please don’t mistake this rant as an attempt at fishing for compliments. I wrote this because it’s been on my mind, and nothing helps me more than writing about it. I shared it because my hope is that there’s someone out there that feels the same way, and maybe this will help them feel like they are not alone. I am not looking for the easy way out of this. I am looking for any way out of this.