“DIE FAT, DIE!!” A Moment Of Truth.

 In Black girls work out too, health, Meal prep, Self esteem, Self love, transformation, weight loss, weight loss journey



It’s just one of those days. Maybe it’s because I’m PMS’ing. Maybe it’s because I’m physically and mentally exhausted. Could also be because I have yet to give birth to this food baby conceived during Memorial Day Weekend. Who knows? All I know is this: I’m tired of the fight against fat. 

This may sound odd coming from me; being as though I’ve dedicated the last couple of years of my life to my weight loss journey, not only for myself, but to help other women who share the same struggle as me. It’s so easy for me to encourage and motivate  others, but sometimes your girl needs it as well. 
Little known fact: I’ve been secretly praying every day that I will once again regain the razor sharp focus that I had during the beginning of my journey, but unfortunately, it seems as if it has left the building. Although the the fight is still there, it’s just not the same. I used to get up faithfully every morning at 6:00 am to exercise, I even slept in my gym clothes to remove any excuses from my thought process. If I fell asleep prior to my second workout of the day, I would jump out of my bed at 3 am and head to my home gym (aka living room floor) to sweat it out. I was able to ignore the free pastries at work. I would even order from the “500 calories or less” part of the menu every time I went out to eat. The weight was falling off so easily. Those were the days.
Let’s fast forward 2 years. Despite the fact that I am at my lowest weight thus far, I am nowhere near as driven as I once was. Working out twice in one day has become almost non-existent; the only form of exercise that I get at the crack of dawn is when I reach for the snooze button to silence my AM alarm. I am not as reluctant to resist the goodies that are constantly in arms reach. When I go out to eat, I GO IN. I will devour anything that’s not nailed down, more so out of sheer joy that I’m not reheating anything in Tupperware as I do every single day than out of actual hunger. It’s just not the same.
I am not writing this for sympathy or looking for a pity party, I’m simply baring my soul and sharing the same thoughts and feelings that so many in this struggle have; trying to regain what once was. Sure, I still have my moments where traces of the old me resubmerge, and I become fully dedicated to the lifestyle that has become a huge part of me, but there are also moments where I don’t give a fuck, honestly. This conflicted way of thinking has both its pros and cons; it allows me to indulge and enjoy things that were once forbidden, all while snapping out of my temporary food trance and vividly reminding myself as to why I have to control my cravings and the comfort of mediocrity.
This shit never gets easy for me on any level: physically, mentally, or emotionally. Some days and weeks are better than others. Sometimes I am delighted by my reflection in the mirror. There are also days where I look at myself and say, “Girl, you are approximately one donut away from your before picture. Get it together!” It honestly has very little to do with poor views of myself, I love me some me. What can I say, I’m just an emotional ass female fighting one of the longest and hardest battles of my life. For my life. 
Self-doubt, fear of failure, and complacency are all challenges that anyone in this lifestyle for the long haul will have to endure. This journey is not for the weak. I know that in order for any of us to be great, myself included, we must embrace the challenges and be stronger than how we feel in that moment. Once again, please do not offer any pity this way. I am blessed beyond measure to be able to never let my temporary moments of frustration define my outcome. Just having a moment and figured I would share. 
P.S.: I hope my trainer isn’t reading this, she is going to kill my ass in the gym tomorrow:)
Mell B
Instagram: Mellbfit
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