My 183 is Not Your 183…..

fairfood( My 2nd favorite thing at the fair…)  

One of my favorite memories of living in the Midwest was going to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio.  Sandusky is home to horrible road conditions and the sweetest amusement park in the country (“It’s America’s Roller Coast!”- really, that’s their slogan).  Besides the abundance of elephant ears and $8 burgers (you see where this is going), the best attraction is their carnival boardwalk.  You have people yelling at you to come on over to their booth so they can guess your weight, birthday month, age, etc.  I would laugh at these imbeciles.  Why?  Because I would sucker them into guessing my weight, knowing they would always be WAY OFF- and I went home with a foot long plastic Cedar Point cup with no purpose (had I know what I know now, I should have saved them for drinking purposes later).

See, my 183 is not your 183.  If you look at me right now, you would guess my weight at about 145-150 tops.  You would also be my new best friend, but you would also be completely wrong.  Off by how much? Umm, that doesn’t really matter…point is, I’m what you would consider in the hip-hop community as “thick”.  I’ve always hated that term, as I prefer not to be likened to a cut of meat.  Some women may like it; a personally think it’s a nice way to say you’re fat, but cute enough to get it.

But you would also be surprised to know I’m very unhealthy.  My doctors have told me that I should lose a good 15 lbs to keep myself on the right track and stay in good shape. And that good ‘ol “Height-to-Weight” chart that’s supposed to tell you how “thick” you’re supposed to be at a certain height? Take a look at this:

First off, I do not find it a mere coincidence that the female symbol looks like a martini and the male symbol looks like an ice cream cone (???).  According to this gem, I should aim for around 122….. 122 hasn’t meant anything to me since I was assigned a CIS120 classroom at UM.  Apparently, I need to drop the equivalent of an Olsen twin (if you take the time to sit there, and do the math, you were never my friend in the first place….).

Where is all this extra weight you may ask?  Friends I haven’t seen in months are always saying “Oh, you look great! Have you lost weight?”  I always shut my mouth and utter a quick nod and thank you, while I wondering if they can smell the beef tallow on my breath from smashing some McDonald’s moments before (that’s how they make their french fries so good and addictive- GOOGLE IT!).  And as much as I would like to have these individuals continue to wear beer goggles while in my presence, my body is truly a fun-house mirror: very distorted.  See, I’m built like a gymnast who hit puberty really hard.  I’m short, compact, with thighs the size of tree trunks and body parts that could end the malnourishment epidemic in Tanzania.  So while people on the outside think I look perfectly fine, only I know what goes on in these size 12 pants (and I don’t wear a 12 because I have a nice bum, I really am a 12!).

So what you are about to receive in the next coming months (hopefully!) is a brutally honest look into the mind of a hot mess looking to turn into a hot piece.  I hope to show that not every woman’s journey from fat back to sexy back is the same.  At times, the story of my journey might be offensive, and other times it may be you cry (with laughter or inspiration).  It will, however, show that my journey will definitely be a HOT MESS.

Oh, and if you try to holler at ALL THIS after I’m finished with this project and I’ve previously shown interest, you will get shot down like non-athlete at the Kardashian home.

“Keep It A Hot Mess”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s