For the "tragically" single women who are still hopeful.

My sister recently got engaged. Super duper happy for her. Like, extremely happy. She's been waiting a few years for her boyfriend - now fiancé - to pop the question. So we are all very excited about the transition for her. With the recent excitement of her engagement comes the "tradgedy" of my own singleness. The story is rather familiar, right? The older sister who watches her younger sister walk down the aisle as she holds back tears and holds onto the last bit of hope that she's not destined to be the sister who never married. 

Since we're always here for transparency - the news of engagements never excite me (except my sisters. I've been waiting for this one. Dumb excited). It only reminds me that I'm still getting "wyd" text messages and flipping through middle finger pictures on Tinder. It's no secret that my dating pool is rather murky and shallow. There are about five good men left in the world and I think that they're all hiding in the North Pole somewhere with Santa Claus - ijs.  

I want to believe that I won't shrivel up and die alone but the further I go without any prospective mates, the more I'm wondering if dying alone isn't such a bad idea. I'd rather die alone than settle for a "wyd." (This is me really trying to convince myself that this is true). The fact of the matter is - we have a relatively small window of opportunity for babies. Anyone who knows me, knows that I want to be a mother more than most things. But, the opportunity is slowly passing me by. I'm praying that God doesn't let it.

While, I want to be married and have beautiful babies, I hope that God makes my path cross with a great man. A leader, a go-getter, a family man and a lover who's desire is to love how God does. I won't settle for anything less just to satisfy the craving I have for a family. I want a family but I want it the way God intended me to. 

Until then, I'll watch my sister walk down the aisle proudly; holding the train of her dress and dabbing her make up with tissue. I will celebrate her like I know she would celebrate me when it's my turn. All while praying that God heals the bitterness that years of terrible relationships has caused. I pray that if nothing else changes for me in my 30s, God changes my heart so that I can be genuinely happy for my friends who are reaching milestones that I thought I'd reach a long time ago. 

TGwBH 

Numbers on the scale DO scare me.

I went to the doctor's office once for a general check up. No specific health related reason Why I was there. My doctor was a weight loss Natzi - in a good way. She was very adamant about everyone being in a healthy weight range. I trusted her because she was a young Black woman and didn't force 135lbs on me but knew that at 301.1lbs, I needed to shed some of this excess. 

I knew "the talk" was coming when she walked into the exam room. I'd had it a hundred times before with her. But with the number 301.1 burned into my mind, I felt like she was coming to bring me news of a fatal illness. As soon as she walked into the room, I broke down and cried. I felt crazy because the woman hadn't even said anything to me yet. She barely looked me in my eyes when I began to cry. 

That was my moment. A turning point for me.  

Those of you who know me, or follow me on Instagram at the least, know that two years ago, I lost 45 lbs. It was the most weight I've ever lost. I'd given up meat, I worked out five times a week and my diet was on point! But, here I am two years later, at the back door of the 300 club. Where I said I'd never be again. Where disease and health conditions stare me in the face and heart attacks threaten me at night. My clothes don't fit anymore and I am simply uncomfortable in my body.  

So, you can imagine my disappointment after a whole week of eating better and working out heavy, I step on the scale and see +2 lbs. Before you give me the "but muscle is heavier than fat" speech or the "but you should see how your clothes fit" speech, consider where we are. I currently weigh 295.2 lbs. Again, diseases linger at this weight. Those 2 lbs mean everything to me. They are literally the difference between life and death. 

So, yes, the scale does scare me. I try my hardest not to be discouraged. But I won't act like the numbers on that scale don't mean something to me. Because they do. They represent the likelihood that I'll carry my babies full term in a healthy pregnancy. They represent the likelihood that I'll live to see my grandchildren grow up and be able to actually play with them. They represent some pretty heavy stuff for me. So please, don't dismiss my feelings about them by telling me that muscle weighs more than fat. I know my own body and I know damn well it isn't muscle that's adding those two pounds back to my life. 

Until next week's weigh-in.  

TGwBH

s.m.A.R.t goals

Sunday evenings are designated for setting goals. In most cases, they're related to everyday things like laundry, cleaning or packing lunch for the week. But in some cases, I actually plan out my fitness goals. This Sunday was one of those days. 

When it comes to fitness, it is important for me to write out S.M.A.R.T goals. For those of you who aren't familiar, the acronym is defined as Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Time-bound goals. The two hardest for me are attainable and realistic. These areas are always where I seem to go astray. I seem to set these crazy goals that even the most fit person would side eye. "Wake up at 3am every morning this week," "no eating out," "don't step on the scale." Although those things are measurable, they're pretty out of reach at this point in my life.  

It's okay for me to remember that I am easing into this things again and I'm not that slim chick from two years ago that was disciplined enough to set those kind of goals for herself.  

I used to get annoyed when my mom would call herself a realist. I always thought she was so negative. But as I got older, I understood the power of my mother's perspective on things. In situations where I'd normally stress and worry, my mom would be strategic. She had the power to see things just as they were - nothing more and nothing less. Applying this to my weight loss, I have the power to see it for what it is. Right now, I am out of shape. Nothing more and nothing less. So how do I strategically put things into place that help me move forward? Setting goals based on real things. Am I going to wake up and go to the gym every morning this week? No. I won't. But I may get up three times this week. These are realistic goals. These are attainable goals. 

S.M.A.R.T. Goals have helped me to be successful in many areas of my life but fitness is where I find them to be most important. Goal setting helps me to put a plan in action. Planning helps me to succeed. Whoever said, "failing to plan means planning to fail," was talking directly to me.  

Here we go...again. 

TGwBH