This may sound a bit silly, but sometimes I compare my fat to a jilted lover. I mean, think about it. I’ve had a relationship with my fat since I was a teenager. Due to the nature of my disordered eating and lack of control over my impulses, others came and went, but FAT always came back. And fat was so easy to blame all my problems on, little did I know that for many years I actually, deep down inside, always wanted the fat around as my scapegoat.
But now I don’t. I’m going to get all metaphorical here, so look out! Me and FAT are breaking up. But fat doesn’t like to leave. I move my jiggly ass at the gym, I go swimming for hours on end, I eat right, I watch how much and what I put in my body, I avoid the bad stuff, and fat is slowly but surely going away. But it’s having a hard time letting go of the past. I’m OVER the fat. I’m done. The relationship is over. But fat keeps hanging on, even in little bits. Slowly it’s accepting that I no longer want it around, but it’s being very tenacious in hanging on where it can. But fat hates exercise and healthy foods in the right proportions, so I figure it’ll go away the more I persist with the good lifestyle…heh
OK, dumb metaphor…but it’s MY dumb metaphor…lol
