If you have ever met me in real life, the chances are that you know that I am a massively unhealthy eater. Like, when it was suggested that we go to McDonalds after church last week, I was half way through my big mac before I realised it was the fourth meal in a row that I’d eaten at Maccas. Yeah. I’m that person.
Somehow, God seemed to think it would be cool to make me extremely fussy when it came to eating, except allow me to love anything that comes deep fried/from a fast food shop/full of sugar.
This has always been the case, but since beginning year twelve I’ve realised I’m also a stress eater. So whenever I’m stressed I break out the pringles, the sour worms, and the Whoppers. When I was little I could eat like this and not put on any weight – I was an absolute stick. Sadly my metabolism has had enough of me, and in the last year I’ve put on nine kilos. Nine. Kilos.
I decided enough was enough when I found my dream grad dress, and it only came in one size (my old size), yet I was determined to get it anyway. It would fit, dammit. I went on a
diet healthy lifestyle plan, which lasted all of two weeks until I decided to ‘break’ for a weekend which turned into a month and a half (and an extra two kilos. Don’t worry, they’re included in the nine.). By ‘healthy lifestyle plan’ I am legitimately talking about a healthy lifestyle plan and not a diet. It basically consisted of swapping the canteen every day for a packed, healthy alternative, not eating fast food five times a week, and resisting the chocolate every time I went to the supermarket. But the problem is that food just tastes so much better greasy and from a drive-thru.
Then yesterday I was at the gym and ‘taking a break’ from exercising, I began to read all the newspaper clippings around the walls. This one in particular caught my eye:
Considering the fact that I usually get a medium, if not large, fast food meal, and often with an ice-cream or added nuggets, it was a harsh realisation. And don’t look at me like that, I knew fast food was bad, but in my head McDonalds = half an hour at the gym. Or something. Okay. I knew the reality, but I chose to avoid it. Like I choose to avoid that the HSC is in four months (just thinking about that is making me crave Hungry Jacks).
I realised I had two options:
1. Start going to the gym for two hours every day
2. Cut back on fast food.
Neither were particularly pleasant thoughts, but every day that passes is one day closer to grad, and to fit into that dream dress that is currently stored high in my cupboard I need to do something.
I finally decided cutting back on fast food would be the best way to go, as I get super bored after an hour at the gym, and could not double that if you paid me a million dollars. Also, in just 145 days I will be in America, and if I lose all the weight, I can then spend two months eating all the deliciously naughty American food and putting it back on (that’s what you’re meant to do, right?).
Wish me luck guys, I’m definitely going to need it.
frangipani princess xoxo