jamzrox1991
New member
Hello, Forum thingy. My name is Jess, I'm eighteen, and I'm on a mission.
But first, a bit of background.
I've been overweight my entire life. Except for maybe a short period in Elementary school when the after-care teachers made us do Tae-bo. (It was painful, but effective.) When I was younger, I was constantly bullied for my weight, and it really depressed me. It was only in Middle school when I learned to be scarier than my bullies that the teasing abated. Over time, I stopped caring that I was fat. In fact, I accepted it as a part of who I was, especially after my last relationship. I was with a guy for three and a half years, and he honestly thought I was gorgeous the way I was, so of course, I became more complacent about it. Now that he and I are free of each other and I've moved far away from Jersey, I find myself realizing how uncomfortable I am physically. I just feel bloated and blah. It's not fun at all. Besides that, I also realize that I would like to be able to do more. I have a two-year-old brother who requires chasing after, and I'd like to be able to do that without the huffing and puffing and the red face. And I'd like to be able to climb stairs with a little less trouble, too. It's the simple things that have added up and made me just plain sick of being fat.
I've dieted in the past, and when I have, I've lost weight like nobody's business. I was known to drop as much as fifteen pounds in two weeks. The problem was, I could never stick to it. I would get depressed or anxious or bored and want to eat, and that'd be it. I really want my weight loss to be for good this time, and I'm not just saying that. I don't really have a strict plan yet, but I do have my resolve.
It was just last week when I really decided to get serious about this whole 'losing weight' business. I tried to sign up for the bone marrow registry and was rejected because my body mass index was too high. That really upset me, honestly, because now my fatness isn't just affecting me, it's affecting people who might need my dang bone marrow. (Not to mention my organs, if I were to die tomorrow.)
So, in short, I'm here for support--actually, scratch that; I'm here, pleading with all of you out there to yell at me. Send me e-mails or messages in all caps, raving about the people in need of bone marrow and whatever else you can think of if you don't see me on the forum, clocking in my weight every week. And if you do, I'll return the favor in whatever way you want me to.
And dude, I'm at high risk for a lot of crap with the weight I'm at. It's a tad worrisome. The whole 'dying soon' thing might not be such a joke if I don't, in the words of dear Pumba, "lose some pounds."
Seriously,
Jess
But first, a bit of background.
I've been overweight my entire life. Except for maybe a short period in Elementary school when the after-care teachers made us do Tae-bo. (It was painful, but effective.) When I was younger, I was constantly bullied for my weight, and it really depressed me. It was only in Middle school when I learned to be scarier than my bullies that the teasing abated. Over time, I stopped caring that I was fat. In fact, I accepted it as a part of who I was, especially after my last relationship. I was with a guy for three and a half years, and he honestly thought I was gorgeous the way I was, so of course, I became more complacent about it. Now that he and I are free of each other and I've moved far away from Jersey, I find myself realizing how uncomfortable I am physically. I just feel bloated and blah. It's not fun at all. Besides that, I also realize that I would like to be able to do more. I have a two-year-old brother who requires chasing after, and I'd like to be able to do that without the huffing and puffing and the red face. And I'd like to be able to climb stairs with a little less trouble, too. It's the simple things that have added up and made me just plain sick of being fat.
I've dieted in the past, and when I have, I've lost weight like nobody's business. I was known to drop as much as fifteen pounds in two weeks. The problem was, I could never stick to it. I would get depressed or anxious or bored and want to eat, and that'd be it. I really want my weight loss to be for good this time, and I'm not just saying that. I don't really have a strict plan yet, but I do have my resolve.
It was just last week when I really decided to get serious about this whole 'losing weight' business. I tried to sign up for the bone marrow registry and was rejected because my body mass index was too high. That really upset me, honestly, because now my fatness isn't just affecting me, it's affecting people who might need my dang bone marrow. (Not to mention my organs, if I were to die tomorrow.)
So, in short, I'm here for support--actually, scratch that; I'm here, pleading with all of you out there to yell at me. Send me e-mails or messages in all caps, raving about the people in need of bone marrow and whatever else you can think of if you don't see me on the forum, clocking in my weight every week. And if you do, I'll return the favor in whatever way you want me to.
And dude, I'm at high risk for a lot of crap with the weight I'm at. It's a tad worrisome. The whole 'dying soon' thing might not be such a joke if I don't, in the words of dear Pumba, "lose some pounds."
Seriously,
Jess
