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  

Why I posted a half-naked picture of myself on Instagram.

If you follow me on IG (which you should: @thegirlwbighair)  then you may have seen the picture I posted last week of myself with no clothes on. It was a picture of my back and no private parts of my body were showing. In fact, all of what was visible is probably what someone would see on the beach in my bathing suit. 

I am super insecure about my body. But it's mine. And it's not going anywhere any time soon. I have always been told that I'm not pretty enough because of my weight. Directly and indirectly. I've been rejected by men. I've been made fun of. I've spe…

I am super insecure about my body. But it's mine. And it's not going anywhere any time soon. I have always been told that I'm not pretty enough because of my weight. Directly and indirectly. I've been rejected by men. I've been made fun of. I've spent 28 years hating who I am. But I can't do that anymore. I just can't. If you don't want me because I have a few extra minutes on my hourglass then, my friend, you are free to leave. Because hating my body ends here. Right now. As I type this. It's over. If my body (or your insecurities) make it hard for you to love me then that is your problem. Not mine. #teamfirenza

I posted it with a caption about my newfound courage to stop hating my body. And though the picture was very tastefully done, the older folks who follow me didn't take too well to it. Honestly, I don't care about that. Old folks, you don't understand millennials. I get that. One day maybe I'll post about that. But right now, I want to make sure that everyone understands the importance of that picture on Instagram. 

For as long as I can remember I've been overweight. Seriously. I don't recall a point in my life where I wasn't. With that, came a consistent reminder that I am different from my peers. My mom, who I love very dearly, is a very blunt and straightforward woman and often that wasn't received too well when it came to my weight loss. My dad wasn't really affirming either. I was teased terribly. I remember a boy in my 7th grade class called me "Triple F" for Fat, Funky Firenza in front of the whole class. 15 years later, that still makes me tear up. 

All of my life, the reality of my obesity followed me like a dark cloud. In school, at home, when I shopped in the mall and when I went out to eat at restaurants. As I got older, I began to take better care of myself and my mother (one of the most confident women I know) taught me to carry myself a certain way. So, I faked it till I made it. 

When you have hated yourself for 28 years of your life, it's hard to care about anyone's opinions when you post a simple picture like that. That picture showed parts of my body that I have despised so much that I've cried as I wore body shapers to hide it. 

But I have decided not to hate my body anymore. I won't hide it. It is what it is. So I'm going to love it. And the liberation that comes with my naked body is how I chose to announce that to the world. Doesn't matter who thought it was uncomfortable. I've always made people uncomfortable. My obesity is always uncomfortable to someone because it's undesirable. A moment of self-love is way more valuable to me than a moment of discomfort for you. 

May God free little 7th grade girls who are ashamed of their beautiful fat bodies and may they grow into beautiful healthy women who continue to encourage their peers and those who come after them to love themselves despite what people may say. 

TGwBH