I've been lying to myself and others for years now. I have consistently asserted that I want to lose weight "to be healthy," or "so I won't die at 48 like my dad did." I've been saying that for so long, that it's just my automatic canned response now.
But you know what? It's a lie.
The truth is that at my current weight, my life expectancy is reduced by about three years. When I'm faced with the choice between eating a baked chicken breast with steamed green beans for dinner and ordering a pizza, those three years don't seem very important. Honestly, I'll probably be suffering from dementia long before I approach those years (family history, both maternal and paternal), so truly, dying three years sooner would be a gift to those who are stuck taking care of me.
Depressing? Yes. But hey, the truth is the truth. You should know that with a title like "Honesty," anything I write will be dreadful.
So you want to know, honestly, why I want to lose weight?
I want to be pretty. Pretty all over, not just that girl who has a pretty face, too bad she's so fat. I want to look sexy in cute clothes. I want to be attractive in a bikini. I want to be that lady you stare at while she's working out, thinking "damn, look at those muscles!"
I want my daughter to be proud of me when we go places. I want her to be proud of the progress I've made.
I have the most wonderful, kind, loving, precious partner in the world. He deserves a sexy girlfriend. He loves his dumpy girlfriend; but he deserves to have a girlfriend who makes him proud. I want to be her.
It is all superficial. Every bit of it.
So there. That's the truth. I don't really care all that much about my long-term health. I really just want to be attractive. If that makes my weight loss goals less valid, then so be it.
