I’ve talked about my past on the blog, including the complicated relationship I’ve had with my body since an early age (9 years, if I recall it correctly). Today’s post will not be focussed on the past, but on the goals I set for myself for this year.

Tbh, it’s not even a goal I was aware of until recently. But maybe I give you the entire picture.

So by the end of last year, I thought it was a good idea to track my habits – drinking, eating, exercising, you name it. I kept a log of everything. And before I knew it, I also lost some weight, and I was down to 54 kg (119 lbs). I remember how surprised I was about how easy that was, it felt like just a second and BOOM! six ponds less. But I also noticed that it was kinda sad. I mean I was counting my fruit intake. The last time I did that was a few yers ago when I was in completely different, unhealthy phase of my life, where I restricted myself of fruit because it contained too much sugar. But then earlier this year, there I was, counting how much fructose I was consuming per day.

The feeling of success by losing the weight I didn’t need to loose was not bad at all, I actually was kinda proud. But then I remembered how I spent my teens and how boring that was. (I seriously was the most boring teenager you can ever imagine. I didn’t drink, I didn’t date, I just went to school.) I also remembered the appointments at the doctor’s, the blood draws, the charts, the doctor’s threats – if you don’t stick to the weight gain schedule, we’ll admit you to a hospital (and everyone knows that includes intravenous treatment, which is scary AF if you’re fucked up).

So I was happy that I was still able to control my body, but at the same time, I kept asking myself “Why are you doing this?”. And so a few days after reaching the 54kg mark, I was like “Why am I doing this?”
Then I went out to get not just one but three bars of chocolate and I ate all of them. (And did not throw up.) That day, I finally got to the conclusion that life is just not as fun if you’re depriving yourself of the small pleasures all the time, and I made the commitment to myself that I would focus more on working out than on how much I eat.

So far, it’s been a good experience. My belly is a little rounder that usual, but I kinda like it. It makes me feel more sensual and womanly, which is not a bad thing at all! In addition to that, I just got more curves in general. For the first time in my life, I’ve got something like a booty, and I think it’s amazing.
Also, for the first time ever, my face looks normal. See, I have a very small frame when it comes to my bone structure. My face used to look super narrow. So having a little extra texture on my cheeks isn’t bad at all.

I don’t even know how much I weigh atm. I also couldn’t care less. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m having healthy habits when it comes to nutrition and working out. (And even if I’m working out every day – which could be looked at as some sort of pathology as well – I think it’s helping me a lot with where I’m at mentally.)

Right now, I’m enjoying the pattern of working out more in order to eat more. And I think it’s made me more easygoing and attentive to my needs.