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Okay, I'm writing this blog, honestly, out of mild frustration. Well, maybe not exactly frustration. It's more like disappointment. Disappointment in myself: Charelle Monae Byrd. And before you click on something else and completely ignore what I'm about to say, this is NOT a "if I can do it, so can you!" post. This is simply to say, "Girl, you are not the only one. Trust me." I'm here to talk about our least favorite past time: weight gain. It's one of the most loyal enemies you'll meet in your lifetime. When I think back, fat and I used to work well together. As of lately, it has lost it's zeal to perform as excellently and follow instructions as it did before. Let me tell you what happened.

As long as I can remember, fat and I have always had a pretty good relationship. It was a little rocky at first because I was initially more concerned with her needs. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted so that she could find her place in my world. I was a skinny little girl so I could stand to get some meat on my bones, right? Back then, there was no talk of having too much jelly, stretch marks, or even bikinis. It was pure, unadulterated freedom to eat. But, of course at that time, I was just a kid. My only carless eating concerns were belly aches. Those could be avoided by simply not eating anything that had a funny smell or color to it. Life was easy then.

As I got older, I kept running into these, uh, boys. Cute boys, too. Tall boys. Strong boys. "Boys, boys, all type of boys.", as Missy Elliot would say. Boys didn't seem to like girls with protruding bellies that hung over their belt buckles so I began to be more attentive to my figure. And in school, as a teenage girl, a boy liking you was more important than knowing Social Studies, Algebra, and how to climb a rope. So with a new found focus came a new found disciple in how I took care of myself. I even stopped eating at one point. The goal was to be as slim as possible so that you'd never get called fat. Ever!

Once I realized how dumb it was to stop eating, I decided to come to my senses and eat properly. I knew that starving myself was wrong so I stopped because of that. Okay, okay. It was more so because I just love food too much to turn my back on it completely. There, I said it. But even in a time of transition and wanting to live life with the enjoyment of eating what I wanted, I still managed to remain a decent size. I had put on the typical 5 to 10 pounds during my first years of college. It was slightly noticeable because I had always been considered fairly "slim". Not skinny, just smaller up top. I've never had a lot of belly fat. And yes, I loved pizza even then.

Somewhere between a few heartbreaks, job losses, and classic stress there were some changes in my appetite. I went from 1 slice of pizza with a few fries on the side to topping off an entire Little Caesar's pizza in just a matter of lunch and dinner. I really hadn't noticed it at first. I was always up and going during the day. I had to leave the house so early that I rarely ever got a chance to eat, let alone cook breakfast. Soon, vending machines became very well acquainted with me. Processed foods were always available to me when time in the mornings got cut short. It seemed like fast food restaurants spent all of their hard earned money on ideas and different ways to make me think that I really need a burger with a pretzel bun. And it worked. All of the restaurants that delivered already had my number programmed in their system. That's how often they heard from me. But I didn't think anything of it.

Before you knew it, I looked at some of my pictures from my college years and found myself saying things like, "Hey, I remember those pants!" "Ooooh, that was my favorite shirt!" "Oh, wow. Bet I can't fit that anymore." All of these comments were followed by a smile or a hearty chuckle. But once the smile faded and the chuckle died down, reality set in that I had made food a priority over more important things, like me. I'm not just talking about my outer appearance, either. Looking at those photos, I started thinking about certain issues, health wise, that I didn't have back then. My weight gain brought some unwanted guests with it. I found myself feeling just...crappy.

This is probably the point in the blog where you're expecting me to say, "Well, now I'm at the gym 5 days a week and my diet is going great! I've lost 7 pounds so far and blah blah blah!" Well, you won't get that today. Today, I had Burger King for breakfast with a bottle of water. Last night, I ate a black bean burger with nothing on it and some tea. Earlier that day, I had grapes and a cinnamon roll for breakfast. Today, for lunch, I'll probably have something with tofu in it and water on the side. What I'm trying to say is, I am taking my process one day at a time. Each day will bring more progress. Each progress will produce perseverance.

So I guess I'm writing this to tell you that reflecting on some parts of the past can encourage you to deal with present issues. We spend plenty of time running from the truth and problems that we learn how to cope with the uncomfortable by doing things such as overeating. I know it all too well, but I've decided to do something about it. Honesty brings vulnerability. I also believe that it can bring accountability. Maybe next to you eat you will be mindful of the long term effect that one meal can have on you. Time reveals most things. Good life to you and stay encouraged. Everyone cannot relate to this, but I am 100% sure that someone reading this can hear me out. I encourage you to put one foot in front of the other and move in the direction towards a better you. One that's even better than the girl from college.

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