Not All Stories of Weight Loss Are Successful

I can't recall ever having a weight problem before since I've been dealing with it for so long. It began in elementary school, when I was blissfully unaware that appearance was a determining factor in beauty and desirability.

As nasty as children may be to one another, it began with amusing remarks. I began by eliminating a number of food types from my diet, persuading myself that I didn't even like them. First, I said farewell to white bread and pork. Next, all fruits except apples. Then came chocolate, which I adored as much as any other child, but it was a difficult farewell.

Perhaps the most difficult was letting go of the notion that I might have a beautiful, healthy physique without enduring a lifetime of unending hardship.

Between the ages of 12 and 14, I was already well-informed about diets and had tried several of them after reading about them in a magazine that I didn't trust or after hearing about them from my mother or classmates. I wanted to be slender and delicate; I desired to be attractive; I desired to be lovely—and adored.

It functioned without any effort on my part; I never had to worry about my wits. When it came to schoolwork, learning a new language, or taking on a new task, there was nothing I couldn't accomplish. And I never truly appreciated it because it simply worked. I've never understood how someone could have trouble memorizing lengthy Latin passages or with arithmetic. My mind processed it.

We all want things we can't have, and I wanted my body to comply, but it never collaborated as much as my head did.

I punished it as a result. It was starved by me. I forced myself to follow pointless fad diets and workouts. I cut my calorie intake till it was completely nonexistent. I lost my sense of direction and my connection with food. Eating was something I detested. I detested it in every way. I never ate in public because I believed that when others saw me, they were thinking, "This fat person shouldn't eat at all." I always believed that hunger was an indication that I was getting closer to the attractive, trim version of myself that I desired, and I detested feeling full.

I took my own measurements using the scale, BMI charts, and statistics. People never noticed me anyhow, so I remained away from them and hid behind loose clothing.

I wasn't fat. I had baby fat and was a plump child. However, my body was damaged by the diet roller coaster, and the more I tried to reduce weight, the less effective it became.

I did drop weight—quite a few times—but my body returned to its previous state when I resumed a regular diet and less intense activity. I see it as a never-ending battle between losing too much weight and letting go of who I am. There was no middle ground. My weight has fluctuated between 130 and 200 pounds since I was in my twenties. I also always felt FAT, even though my height of 5' 7" puts me in the overweight range at 200 and below normal at 130. Additionally, I've always desired weight loss.

I started a final weight loss journey this year, right before the pandemic hit and completely upended our lives. I promised myself that this time, I would have the success story; I would reach my ideal body, which is a stable, healthy weight that is sustainable—even at 42, it is still possible to achieve this goal.

I took all action I could. I was cutting calories, but not to the point of starving, and I worked out five times a week. I was focusing on a clean, nutritious diet and macros. I even sought assistance from a professional trainer and dietitian since I was walking a lot every day. I promised myself that this time, I would not give up. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I will do it.

But I secretly hoped for quick results. I hoped to see the weight loss, the transformation of my physique, and the appearance of my abs as the fat rolls go.

Obviously, this is not how it occurred.

Not all success stories involving weight reduction are positive ones. even if you are successful in losing weight.

Individuals who shed ten dress sizes, vanish, and then reappear as completely different individuals with features that are almost difficult to identify are all around you. You can't help but feel envious of them since they succeeded and achieved something that you couldn't. They seem content as well. And they are radiant; their confidence is so great, and their grins fill the room.

When they explain how they accomplished anything, it always seems so easy. It's just lowering calories, carbohydrates, or calories; exercising often; drinking plenty of water; intermittent fasting; or whatever else you can think of. Perhaps it was made possible by a miraculous medication, herb, tea, coffee, or shake. And they assure you that all it takes is perseverance and patience to succeed.

However, they don't discuss the difficulties they face in the months and years they arrive. They don't tell you how many times they want to just give up and eat a whole bag of chips, a container of Ben & Jerry's, a giant bowl of guacamole, and put away the running shoes in order to binge-watch Netflix indefinitely. Even after a week of training every day with egg-white omelets, spinach, and tuna fish, the scale betrays you and shows more than a week before. They don't tell you about the dejection you feel when you step on it.

I should know how it works because I've done it so many times. I should be aware that it is a drawn-out and tiresome procedure. I should already be aware that things grow more difficult as you age. that altering your metabolism will always have negative consequences. Starving yourself and restricting your caloric intake is not the solution. because if you want results, you must go through the trip.

I'm still surprised by it. For me, losing weight is not the reason. One thing unites all the aspects of my life where I may flourish: the more I give, the more I get. This is how learning, my work, my efforts with my children, and social connections all operate. but not while losing weight. Even now, my body continues to be uncooperative. Never did.

The game is lengthy. It doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen in a month or even in half a year. It makes no difference whether I am working out more than I have ever done in my life and if I begin to like it, something I never did. It doesn’t matter whether I let myself have cheat meals or not.

My days are filled with it. I can just concentrate on it. The rest follows. I plan my get-togethers with my pals around the one night of the week when I can eat. In a month or two or three, I will be more gorgeous, slimmer, and more loved, so I put myself on wait to start dating. I almost postponed my vacation since I wasn't at the weight I had chosen.

I had a success story; therefore, I wanted to write one too. I shed 30 pounds (14 kg) and many inches in the last six months. I am healthier, stronger, and more resilient. I'm capable of doing things that I couldn't in January. I am headed in the right direction, but I still have a long way to go. Isn't it a success?

It doesn't seem successful. And not due to my lack of gratitude. The reason for this is that the fight I had to endure was more difficult than I had anticipated. It is exhausting, challenging, and debilitating. I start to wonder whether it's really worth it. Neither do I feel more loved nor more appealing. I am aware of my improved health, but I am also aware of the cost.

The limitations, the pain, the hopelessness—the persistent, lingering sense of inadequacy and the other sense of being so shallow. I should be appreciated for my personality, my abilities, and my kind, caring heart, not for my abs or ass, after all. Admittedly, I'm not doing it for health reasons. The only reason I'm doing it is to become thinner and seem more attractive. I'm doing this because I want to be in charge of selecting my mate rather than settling for the first person who comes my way. I'm doing it because I want to be loved and respected—and foolishly, I think that's related to how I appear.

I know it's dumb, but there is some truth to the claim that my appearance is the cause of all my dating mishaps. It all comes down to self-assurance and knowing exactly what one is entitled to. Saying no to things that don't benefit you and setting appropriate limits are key.

My weight reduction endeavor is not a success. It's still a work in progress, but my only hope is that I'll feel better about it when I reach my ideal weight and that, when I look back on it six or twelve months later, it was worthwhile.

I want to be honest about it for the time being, however.

It's not pleasant. I don't feel like I've done anything. I can't rejoice with every pound I shed. I can't purchase jeans in lower sizes at random. I'm still constantly hungry. There are more bad days than good ones, and I am sore from all the activity. I am irritable and temperamental, and even with my usual workout, I often feel down. It occupies too much of my days, and I repress everything else, but I concentrate on it because it is significant and because I want to finish it once and for all.

I'm making an effort to see the bright side. I'm making an effort. I follow a healthy schedule. I am really aware. I am becoming lighter. I am aware of its benefits to me. But don't get me wrong; it also makes me unhappy.

I am aware that many individuals are having difficulty losing weight. And it's either a dismal tale of failures and yo-yo diets, or it's a retrospective success story that gives one the right to share the word and advocate for the life-altering technique they used. I can relate to you if you have ever battled to lose weight or if you have tried but found it really difficult. It is not an easy task when you are doing it. Progress photos and sunshine and rainbows aren't everything. Your body and mind are engaged in a battle. It's a conflict between necessities, desires, and practical items.

You could have a better experience than I had, succeed more, and get it more quickly and easily. Or you desire the hardship and the anguish of losing thirty pounds in six months, as long as it is evident that you would do everything to achieve this goal.

All I can say is don’t give up. Because it will be worthwhile in retrospect. You are gradually building a new world for yourself; you will gradually discover what suits you and eventually arrive at your destination. Even if it’s not a success story. even if it turns out to be more challenging than anticipated. even if it's a violent conflict.

This is what I'm telling myself, anyhow.