Good morrow everyone,
I’m back in NYC again. It’s summer so I’m simply sweating like a shiny dolphin 24/7 💕💕
So quarantine was a time but you don’t need me to tell all that. hOWEVER, that being said, I feel like I did learn a lot about myself from passing my days in the provinces.
I’m coming back to the city healthier than I’ve ever been before. And I don’t mean I’ve been drinking kale juice and doing kegels to align my chakras, but quite the opposite.
I 👏🏻 am 👏🏻 done 👏🏻with 👏🏻dieting.
I want to tell you a story. I used to eat nutella sandwiches on white bread and a double cheeseburger for lunch from the ages of six to seventeen and have the physique of a literal noodle. It was magical.
But, then I turned 18 and gained some weight and ever since then I have tried to regain my once supple noodle body. And I tried everything: vegan, gluten-free, “clean” eating, and, my personal demon, yet almost effective, hell-scape, calorie counting. It was fucking horrendous. And when I moved to New York it got even worse because I would just drink iced oat milk lattes throughout the day, then binge to my hearts on peanut butter at night. Photosynthesis and cortisol were my main nutrients.
And what’s more, it was totally socially acceptable and encouraged. My friends and I would brag about how little we would eat. Like, it’s not that impressive, we were essentially doing meth to hold off on our normal biological needs.
So, anyways, clearly this lifestyle was unsustainable for me. This past semester I was meticulously tracking every single calorie down to a goddamn chia seed, but, alas, Co-Vid popped her hoo-haa and made every country her bitch, so, to be frank, I needed a moment to recompose myself. I took a sabbatical from the My Fitness Pal app.
Then I gained all the weight back that I had lost during the semester 🙃🙃🙃🙃
I was about to fucking blow my brains out.
Do y’all even realize how many scrumptious croissants and affogatos I sacrificed so I could Gucci, Vogue, Ralph Lauren, Victoria’s Secret model skinny??? I don’t want to talk about it anymore… I’m. Going. To. Be. Fucking. Sick.
After I threw a tantrum and trauma-binged “Girl Defined,” I felt better.
I realized things needed to change. Being skinny wasn’t going to happen for me. I started going to therapy and yaddi, yaddi, yada, no one cares because being healthy is incredibly, incredibly boring :/ Coming out of it, I really don’t know what I was worried about… Like thiccc girls look good, no? Also it feels great to not be psychotic around food. I now channel my psychopathy into much more niche actives, like soliciting myself to french boys on Tandem for a green card.
I hope this reflection finds you prosperous and in good health. So tell me, are you constantly sweaty where you are? What salt-water animal do you most resemble when you’re your most slippy self? Let me know in the comments below!!! 🤪💁🏼♀️🙊😹💩