I'm not very good at this. D:

Blogging, not working out and dieting. Working out and dieting I'm getting progressively better at. But blogging, haaa, well, those of you who have been following this blog can see how that's going. I need topics to leap up into my face and scream "WRITE ABOUT ME," I guess. That's no good. What am I going to do when I'm writing for reals? I can't let myself get bored with long-term projects, (seriously, what in my life wouldn't suffer from doing that?) so from now on, I'm going to take this blog as seriously as I am my workout routine.

I will write every Monday and Wednesday and weigh in days will be Fridays instead of Mondays because getting on a scale after the weekend is just masochistic.

SPEAKING OF MASOCHISM, weigh-in on Monday...happened. I guess. I haven't lost any weight since the last weigh in, which, to my credit, wasn't a full 2 weeks before this latest one. Hence the switch to Fridays. My schedule's all messed up, ugh. How am I getting skinnier? I definitely am, but the scale doesn't appear to notice.

But hey, I hit a few epic milestones lately! Here they are:

I actually fit into my favorite red pants. They are crazy awesome and until recently gave me a crazy, not-so-awesome extreme muffin-top. not anymore!

And on the treadmill the other day, as a personal experiment, I decided to run for as long as I could without stopping/slowing to a walk. I went for a full 5 minutes before getting winded. Those of you who knew me in high school PE can guess what a big deal this is to me.

In PE when I was 15-16, I had the pleasure of being instructed (see: tortured) by a particularly prickly and ornery Skinny Bitch. We'll call her Coach W (don't worry, bitch, nobody could possibly guess who you are, lol).

Coach W had it out for me and my friends, who we'll call Alma and Amber (because those are their names). Now, I know how not-credible it always sounds when someone complains that a teacher has it out for them, especially in high school when we're all prone to high drama to begin with, but seriously, this woman hated us. When running the track, she would yell across the athletic field that we were out of shape and needed to go faster/work harder/stop being lazy, etc. Coach W made us targets for harassment from the Skinny Bitches in our class and turned a blind eye when they taunted and sometimes threatened us. We grudgingly dealt with it for 2 stupid, humiliating years.

Point is, instead of motivating us to get into shape, Coach W exacerbated the body-image problems we didn't even know that we had. I had no desire to get into shape after class with Coach W -- I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Nobody, least of all a teacher, has the right to make somebody feel inferior because of their body.

So screw you, Coach W. I'm going to run my ass off (literally) and write you a letter telling you all about how you're a hate-mongering, self-esteem crushing, miserable woman but despite you (not to spite you), I've bettered myself (so suck it).

(PS, that's my boyfriend Jensen Ackles as a gym teacher in an episode of Supernatural. Not particularly relevant to this entry, but look at him. Damn. ♥)

Would you rather I call myself a "diva"?

What is it about the word "fat" that's so upsetting? Why is it insulting to call someone fat? Why, when I was 11, did I throw a stick through a bus window to strike a little boy who yelled "Fatass!" after me as I departed at my stop?

There's a lot of taboo attached to fatness. Fatisity. Fatitude. I like that. "Fatitude". I've always referred to myself as a fat chick. I'm certainly not uncomfortable with it, but I've found that more often than not, it puts people off. They feel compelled to quietly insist, "You're not fat," gasping at the very idea, like being fat is the absolute worst thing I could say that I am.

It has to do with self-image, plain and simple. There's a huge difference between seeing yourself a fat person and seeing yourself as a person who happens to be fat. I fall into the latter category. I was fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by a support system of friends and family who never treated me any differently because of my weight. I've been big my whole life, and of course there have been times when all I've wanted to do was climb out of my permanent fat-suit and go about life like a normal person would, but it doesn't work that way. You either accept the way your body is, or you take steps to change it.

Even after I lose the weight, I can pretty much guarantee I'll still refer to myself as a Former Fat Chick. It's the kind of thing you shouldn't let go of. My BFF Friedrich Nietzsche once said, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger," and since I haven't died from my fatitude yet and I wouldn't be attempting this epic turnaround in my life without it, I figure it's one of those stepping stones, the things that will ultimately make me into a stronger and more well-adjusted human being.

I'm proud to be a fat chick. Everybody needs to start somewhere.