30 Things That Happened Without Losing The Weight
As a teenager I had an understanding between myself and my body that once I got thin, my life would actually start. I convinced myself that when I lost the weight that I felt was such a burden, I’d start living life for real. I’d buy the clothes I wanted with ease, I’d be desirable enough to be asked out on dates, I’d share fly clothes with my skinny friends. For a while, I carried this perspective around in some of my twenties. As I approach my thirties, though, I recognize that one piece of knowledge this past decade has given me is that life is always happening. It doesn’t pause so that we can lose or gain weight, it doesn’t wait for us to grow out our hair, or until we have enough money to afford clothes that make us feel good. Despite what a younger me believed, life been started. And it’s happening with or without “the weight.” If anything, the weight of the pressure to take up less space has been much more of a burden than my actual weight has ever been. So, this list is a look at some of the life that’s happened to me and for me in the last decade.
I found my dream therapist! She is Black and woman and understands the impact of anti-Black racism on mental health. She has completely changed my life. I owe her a lot.
I lost my dream therapist after nearly five beautiful years together. She didn’t die, she just went on maternity leave.
I self-published three books that are sold in three bookstores and are kept in my alma mater’s library.
I came to the realization that fat is not a punishment, it’s a size.
I had an awful date with a nigga that had a confederate flag tattooed on his chest because “he just liked the design.”
I got into an open relationship with an engaged man.
I got into an open relationship with a woman.
I came to the realization that I might not be built for open relationships.
I published an article about my experience with open relationships in the New York Times.
I produced a video project about Black queer and trans joy.
I became an auntie and a Godparent. I don’t take any other roles more seriously than these.
I broke up with my high school sweetheart.
I got broken up with.
I realized the weight of breakups as an adult. It’s a literal shift in your life plans. It takes time and costs money and sometimes you have to wait out the rest of your lease and continue to live together for six months after the breakup because it’s the more affordable option. Breakups are the worst. But are usually for the best.
I grieved, a lot. Which led me to question life and God(?) and the universe regularly.
Some dude in an Atlanta club kept telling me all night that I looked like his ex wife. He seemed oddly into it.
Went to Paris and sang along to Niggas in Paris. Ha!
I experienced living alone for the first time. I was 21. It was a bachelor apartment downtown in the city I was born in, across the street from a Burrito Boyz. I couldn’t afford the rent, there was a leaking air conditioner and I’m pretty sure it had black mold. The smoke alarm needed to be changed, a task that had to be completed by maintenance since it didn’t take regular batteries. So it beeped. All day and night, until I wrapped it in a scarf and stuffed it in my freezer. The space was aesthetically beautiful but when you really looked inside you could tell it was broken. In many ways absolutely inhabitable. It became the perfect metaphor to describe a 21 year old me; trying to make a home out of a million shattered pieces.
I fell in love. A few times.
I figured out how to use Tik Tok.
I was in a Boston Pizza and the waitress came up to me and gasped “oh my god, you’re Tik Tok famous!”
I read a lot of books for the first time that I wish I could read for the first time again.
I tried magic mushrooms in the form of a chocolate bar. They made me really happy. Then really sad.
I found my favourite weed strain. A sativa dominant hybrid that kept me blissfully on the dance floor and moving off beat with the goofiest smile on my face.
I danced until 7am, more than once. I had the blisters to prove it.
I shaved my head.
I got asked at the bus terminal by a random white man if my shaved head was by choice. He was relieved for my health when I answered yes.
I did group therapy.
I survived a pandemic. Though parts of me certainly did not.
I got more tattoos. This past year I began tattooing my belly. First a butterfly on my stomach with the word “abundance” underneath it. Then two lilies on either side of my hips. I asked my tattoo artist beforehand if she thought it was a good idea to do it now or after I lose weight so that it doesn’t stretch. She assured me that wasn’t necessary, and that there is no better time than now.