Thought Catalog
March 6, 2017

I Lost A Ton Of Weight To Become ‘The Hot Girl’ And Guess What? I’m Still Single As Hell

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Bluegenes Photography
Bluegenes Photography

As a thirty year old woman, I have spent the past several years placing blame on so many different things for the reason I haven’t met the one. I’m not successful enough. My teeth aren’t white enough. I haven’t prayed enough. The list goes on. But I’ve always felt the easiest thing to blame is that I’m not skinny enough. 

I live in a city full of beautiful, successful, creative women, many of which I consider my friends. I see so many people around me falling in love and getting married and I have spent far too much time wondering why I am not one of them. I have a great job that I’m obsessed with, a list of goals that I’m working toward, I find myself pretty dang funny, and I was raised by two amazing parents.

There really is no reason why I haven’t met someone I love who also loves me back.

So last year I decided that once I felt I was “skinny enough” to obtain an attractive male’s attention, surely I would meet a guy who just couldn’t live without me. Maybe he would approach me at Starbucks, maybe we would meet at church, or maybe updated photos of my skinnier physique on my Tinder profile would intrigue him enough and result in a new match.

I was sure that one of these three scenarios was bound to happen when I shed the unnecessary weight I was holding onto from eating and drinking whatever I wanted and choosing sleeping an extra hour over going to the gym.

I made a goal in 2016 to get my body where it needed to be in order to post bikini pictures while on vacation, rock a crop top at the bar, and purchase new clothing three sizes smaller. I’m the kind of person who becomes obsessed with reaching a goal once I’ve set my mind to it, so I did just that.

Suddenly I wasn’t going out very often because alcohol was just unnecessary calories. Instead of ordering Chipotle for lunch, I came to work with a 4 ounce turkey burger patty, a handful of almonds and a protein shake.

If I was meeting friends for dinner, I always ordered a kale salad. At least five out of seven days of the week I made the gym a priority. Although my social life greatly suffered, I found myself looking forward to my once a week weigh-ins because the number on the scale was dropping weekly.

I am five foot five and I started 2016 at 148 pounds, which I am fully aware is not an extremely unhealthy amount to weigh. But it was enough to make me feel like it was the reason I was rarely approached in a bar and never changed my Facebook status to “in a relationship”. Six months later, I stepped on the scale and it read 119. At that moment, I almost fainted. I didn’t remember the last time I was in “the teens”. I felt as though I was an entirely new person with a whole new life now that those 29 extra pounds were gone. Well, I was mostly wrong.

As it turns out, yes, I am a true believer in “look good, feel good” because when you feel good about yourself, your general attitude about life is much more positive. You smile more. You don’t avoid looking in the mirror. You love shopping because there are so many more items of clothing that look great on you.

But I’ve learned that the number on the scale won’t be the deciding factor when it comes to God’s plan for my love life. If that were the case, I would have a diamond ring on my finger right now.

I’ve stopped obsessing so much over becoming the skinniest girl in the room and have focused more on spending every single day doing what makes me happy, surrounded by people who love me. I can promise you I’ll never be 148 pounds again but I’ll also probably never be 119 either.

It kept me from experiencing some of life’s greatest moments, which are always experienced over a glass (or three) of wine. (And a cheese plate never hurts!) I can’t control the outcome of my relationship status, so until I stumble upon that one person that I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with, I’m going to love who I am at this very moment and focus on who I’m becoming.

 I’ll probably always hate my love handles, but who the hell cares?! TC mark

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