Losing weight for yourself, not others

One thing I hated the most was seeing all these pictures of women on IG who ‘lost weight’ and actually comparing myself to them. (Yes, I have done that too).

Not knowing that the presentation was only for show. It wasn’t real most of the time. Most of them were women who were exaggerating the weight they lost, manipulating photos or had surgery. I felt like none of those were options for me. Because in the end not one would come out to serve me.
Ancient insecurities spoke evil in my ear. “You can’t.” I told myself I would be fine if I just ‘did what they did’. They being the general conglomerate of people who had a disposition nothing like mine. See the insanity? That was in the beginning.

I learned that I needed to do more. I needed to know more. I needed to ultimately prove more to myself. I was not what those ignorant bitches (who didn’t know shit about me) called me in the break room. Little did they know my fat (and non-fat) ass would sand those bitches down like 100 grit. But I kept to myself. I played the role ‘he’ told me I should play.

After all, thats a large part of what got me there in the first place. All the ‘he’s’… constant pleasing of the ‘HE’. Never truly concerned about ‘SHE’. She was me. She wasn’t he. And even though he claimed to love me, love wasn’t tearing me up from the inside out. Truth is most men will never know how to love me. I am not regular, that much I know.

It went to show that I needed to dive deeper into the actions that made me digress in this manner. Common sense told me it was the mind that needed working first because that was the first to be destroyed. With the cheating, the lies, the disloyalty, the deception, the gaslighting. Had me creating an alternative personality to the one that clearly wasn’t good enough for him. I mean he needed others right?
(On my Blog, Coveted Archives Podcast & YouTube Channel I discuss exactly what the fuck that was like. I’m talking deep into gaslighting to the point you question your every goddamn move)
I digress…


I no longer give a fuck what his reason was. I’ve done it before too. I’m pretty sure he didn’t give a fuck about my reason then either. It was the guilt from cheating on the one man that could have been ‘the one’…it was having my mother die at 16 and leave me to figure it out…it was the empty promises and unrequited love from a man that promised I was his next. It was the friends who secretly didn’t want anything but to see me on their level… never above to care for them if they stayed below. It was the men claiming to be interested in my mom or married but checking for me. It was falling out of a 3rd story window at 2 years old; left with a TBI. Having to learn how to talk, walk and function all over again. It was the boy who’s head I slammed into the locker Junior year of HS because he called me a ‘Nigger Bitch’. It was the writings on the bathroom wall threatening to violate the bitch who fucked my boyfriend senior year. Cervical cancer.

Weight even a therapist couldn’t manage. I had so much pride in myself that I refused to give it to god. Thinking or assuming he couldn’t manage the damage. Hadn’t he managed it in the first place? If you’ve read thus far, you’ve witnessed a miracle. People don’t appreciate a miracle until they see it standing in front of them.
And even then, what do you choose? Do you acknowledge and respect the miracle or do you disregard it. My flame retardant soul won’t allow your decision to affect my future. And clearly God hasn’t either.


“She didn’t need to understand the meaning of life; it was enough to find someone who did, and then fall asleep in his arms and sleep as a child sleeps, knowing that someone stronger than you is protecting you from all evil and all danger”― Paulo Coelho, Brida