So my goal in life (outside of general happiness, being a good mother, etc.) has been weight loss. Even while in the midst of my 30s, I knew that by the time I hit 40, I wanted a fit body. I'd always think to myself #FineBy40, my mantra to remind me that I had to get my shit together.
I've had my moments back and forth with diabetes, and those only intensified my knowledge that I had to eventually get my body in check. Entering into 39, I swore that by 40, I'd have the body I'd always wanted. I spent my 39th birthday (summer) in Reno Nevada, pigging out at Carl's Jr. By the time I returned from my birthday Fall season hit, and despite my best efforts, I gave into my sugary cravings. Thanksgiving, I was with family and naturally I only went in on all of the junk food provided. Christmas hit, and I was moderately in control of my diet, but New Year's Eve hit, and I happened to be home from work and sick. Something in my spirit just knew that my favorite ice cream would be on sale at Publix, and I was right! I killed off a half gallon in one day, and went back the next day and finished off another half gallon. But then January 2nd happened and I knew it was time.
No more holidays, no more excuses, it was time. I cut out the carbs, and I upped my water intake. I weighed myself and I shook my head in disappointment. I rejoined my local gym, started walking in my neighborhood and hoped for the best. "Fine by 40!" I'd tell myself or anyone else around me. I'd started planking and just being overall ready. I'd pace heavily around Kroger and Target, all in an effort to complete daily step goals.
Two weeks in (mid January), I started to see small results, but I'd started to wonder if this could really work? I mean, my goal was to be down to a size 12 (from a size 14) by March first, and then on to a size 10 by May 1st. It seemed difficult, but in my mind, I knew it was doable. But then something happened. Over the weekend, I was out with some girlfriends, and I was warned that I needed to wear a dress for this particular outing. I was lost, but I picked on that I felt would do me justice. But then something happened. I looked, like
good. I twirled in the mirror at home and wondered when I'd started to look this slim. I was legit killing the game! Another major shock came when I looked at a pic of myself and my comrades, when I noticed how small I looked in my profile. Damn, Malika, we like
that?! Then to further my surprise, I noticed the next day that all of my jeans were looking a bit big. I mean, it happens, and all, but hmmm... what if?
I looked at all of these large pairs of pants and wondered, exactly how small am I? There was a Target up the street, and I knew there was only one way to find out. I hit up the cavalry, but no one was available. It would have to be a solo mission, but I did remain on the phone with a girlfriend, alerting her to my quest- is Malika a size 12 a full month ahead of her goal?! I looked around for the jeans section, before I finally found two pairs of size 12 jeans. I wanted to be sure that it wasn't just a fluke and I didn't just pick up a forgiving pair. I held my breath, and waited.
I walked into the dressing room, still on the phone, and read aloud the "size 12m" written on the pants. It was now or never. I slide them up and buttoned them. Holy sh- wait. I pulled them on and BUTTONED them?! I didn't struggle to do it, they fastened naturally! A pair of size 12 skinny jeans fit me?! After only a month?! WHAT?! I whisper yelled into the phone "holy shit, these jeans!" But then, quick to remember that they could be a trick pair, I pulled up the other pair of jeans to slide on. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, THEY FIT TOO!!! Oooh lawd, I'm a size 12 a full month before my goal date! I've been a solid size 14 for the last 2 years, and now look at me! I stared in the mirror, instantly recognizing that there had been some definite slimming to my waistline, and even my face looked a bit slimmer.
Size 12 ain't a super model size at all, still kinda fluffy, but with 4 and a half months to go, and with an undeterred goal of #FineBy40, I know that my goal of size 10 (possibly even a size 8) by my June birthday is possible. The wild thing about weight loss is how it messes with you. I haven't even lost all of my weight, but there are feelings of guilt, feelings of pride, feelings of "I did it!" and feelings of anxiety, all wrapped up inside my early accomplishment of my goal of weight loss.
What I'd realized made me so anxious is how much I'd always had my fluffy exterior, and now here I am without it. I mean, it's still here, but definitely shedding. I have no desire to give up my weight loss routine, I fully intend to march toward my #FineBy40 goal, full throttle. Because at the end of the day, I'll always be that pudgy insecure girl deep down, and no weight loss goals will ever take that away.
