Intermittent Fasting Day 2 – A Fat Girl’s Weight Loss Journey

It’s 9:33 pm. I’m sleepy and hungry, but I’m pretty sure I’m only hungry because I know I can’t eat right now.

Okay, I could eat, but I’m serious about trying intermittent fasting. My mind wants to convince me that I’m hungry and that I need to eat when I know good and well that I was full an hour ago.

*of course you’ll be reading this after I break my fast*

I need to be getting to sleep – I’ve been staying up later and later thanks to the Chicago Med/P.D./ Fire shows, but the allergy medicine I took earlier has had just enough time to make me feel that delirious version of sleepy.


Fyi – I stayed up to watch Chicago Fire 😍

Okay, so it’s 12 hours later – 9:34 to be exact – and I’m feeling a lot better this morning than I was yesterday. I slept a bit later, so that might have something to do with it, but that theory will be tested tomorrow because I will have to be at work at 7am. I’ve also got a lot going on, so that should keep my mind busy.

*I work as a Human Relations Coordinator and it’s open enrollment for healthcare 😱*

Honestly, intermittent fasting is easier than my actual diet, because I know that I can eat, I just have to wait until a certain time. With my diet I know that once I hit my calories I’m done – at least, I should be.

If you want to follow my journey via my Instagram then click here! I’ve been posting different foods that I’m trying and progress pictures – when there are progress pictures! 😂

Until next time! Thanks for reading!


Dear Girl Who Only Posts Pictures of Her Face 

Dear Girl, 

I get you. For years I didn’t post or even take full body pics. I felt like my face was way better than the rest of me and if I showed the world what I looked like no one would want to pay attention to me. 

I see people who have so many pictures from high school and how they lovingly look back on them. I, however, have very few pictures from that period of my life. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have a few, but I spent that time avoiding the camera from the chest down. 

Why do we do it?

We are trained to think that unless you look a certain way, you aren’t attractive. We see pictures like this splashed all over the internet and magazines and we think this is the norm. 

Or maybe we feel that our chest is too big. Maybe it’s too small. Maybe we think we look too thin and are afraid people will make fun of us. Maybe we hate our stomach. 

There’s a million reasons we don’t like our body and I couldn’t even begin to name them all. We also forget that it’s not just curvy girls that feel self conscious. 

All women feel that way; big or small, tall or short. 

But that’s the thing – if we all feel that way at some point, then why can’t we just be accepting of each other? 

Your body does not define you. Your skin color does not define you. Your clothes do not define you. Your hair does not define you. 

You define who you are. 

Take control of who you are and go on a journey of learning to love yourself. Take those pictures. Post those pictures. Life does not wait for you to decide you’re good enough, so live each day. Enjoy your friends and family. Wear that bathing suit to the beach. Wear the leggings. 

Don’t hide everything but your face. Be proud and unapologetically so. 

Eating Disorders, Anxiety, and Depression. My story of overcoming mental illness and gaining true happiness. 

This is my life journey. I haven’t sugarcoated my story. As the title states, this deals with mental illness. Please read with caution. 

Weight has been something I’ve struggled with my entire life. 

I can remember being in the fourth grade and comparing weight with my friends and realizing that I weight at least ten more pounds than they did. 

I remember my mom calling the plus sized clothing I wore in the kids section “half” sizes so I wouldn’t feel bad. I remember being made fun of because I “was too fat” to wear l.e.i. And mudd (the cool brands of 2000). I remember not trying out for cheerleading because I thought I was too big. 

I remember being in high school and being disgusted with myself because my arms would rub against my stomach when I sat down in my desk. I remember being called fat behind my back by people in my band class. 

These moments all formulated in my head to convince myself that I wasn’t worth love or acceptance until I lost weight. 

The summer before my senior year in high school I lost some weight. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough for it to unconsciously click in my head how to lose weight. See, I had gotten super busy over the summer and as a result I didn’t snack early as much. I lost weight and I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating normal. 

The way to lose weight was to not eat. At least, in my head it was. 

It didn’t trigger right away, but in February of 2007 my nanny passed away from a heart attack. My life was thrown into chaos over night and I found myself feeling completely out of control. I couldn’t control when someone died. I couldn’t control my emotions. I could control my life. 

But I could control what I put in my mouth. 

From that moment on I ate just enough to get by. I would go to the gym to work off what I had eaten because I wanted to consume as few calories as possible. 

I remember having to hang on to my desk when I got up because I felt so faint from lack of food. I remember keeping otc migraine pills in my car because I always had a headache at the end of the school day. 

Oh, but I was losing weight. People noticed. I noticed. Who cared if I felt like death? I was losing weight. 

Winter 2006 or early 2007 above and spring 2007 below 

The hardest part, looking back, was that I felt so huge to begin with that no matter how little I ate, I still felt like I was failing. I wasn’t losing weight fast enough and it ripped me apart. 

I’d love to say that I woke up one morning and opened my eyes to what I was doing to myself, but I didn’t. I settled into a toxic relationship with food for the next five or so years. I’d feel better and eat, only to be followed by weeks of eating every little. Sometimes I’d be so filled with anxiety that I would binge and eat whatever I could, followed by extreme guilt. I never felt like I could talk about it because the perception of someone with an eating disorder is skeletal and sickly. I still could have been considered “fat” for lack of a better word. 

My first year of work led me to passing out at work twice and my mom used to sit and watch me eat breakfast. Honestly, I don’t know if she actually knew, or what, but I remember being practically forced to eat toast. 

April 2008

I had several bad relationships because I never felt like I deserved better, or could even get better. I’ve had ex’s that I told some things to call me fat behind my back after we broke up. I’ve been told that there are people starving and I’m so selfish that I’m upset because I did eat. 


I never felt good enough, thin enough, pretty enough. I struggled with anxiety, depression, and excessive OCD. I’ve coped with alcohol and self harm. I stayed with a man who lied to me bacause I thought he was the best I would ever have. 



Jamaica 2013




Then I woke the eff up. 
I began to live my life and gained the best friend I could ever imagine. Concerts, music, shopping, and fun became my life. Little by little I began to start loving myself. 

I still had feelings of not being good enough, until August 2014. 

My. Life. Changed. 

I know not everyone is religious, but I tell you, the day I left my last ex I felt God. I felt him with me, guiding me. I felt him show me how special I am to Him. I’ve been moved to sobbing tears because of His presence. 
Since 2014 I’ve been on a path of self discovery. I’ve been broken down and lifted up. I’ve learned to see that I am good enough. 

Because isn’t that the root of my problems? I never thought I was goood enough. 

I can’t say I don’t struggle with anxiety or sometimes have a bad self image. I’m human and you are too. Sometimes life with be a daily struggle. Sometimes you may feel you’ll never be good enough. 

You are good enough. 

Mental illness, to be honest, is a lifetime struggle. What helps me may not help you and vice versa. We need to take charge of our lives and find what helps us. It is possible to be happy. It is possible to look in the mirror and see someone you love. It is possible to wake up and be so thankful that you’re alive. 

I’m rooting for you. I’m rooting for us all. 

I don’t know if this made sense, or if it will help anyone, but I feel called to share my story. My past may help someone change their future, and if that’s the case then it’s all worth it. ❤️

October 2016

Why Hate on Girls Who Wear Makeup?

While I’m all for women feeling confident in their own raw skin, things like this irk me. Yes, it is powerful for a women in the media to bare her naked face. Yes, I wish more women could get to a place where they could look in the mirror and love the face that they were born with – sans makeup. But all that aside, just because you love and wear makeup doesn’t mean you’re trying to fit in with what society dictates. 

If you know me, you know 95% of the time I don’t wear makeup and usually have my hair up in a bun. The other 5% of the time? I’m rocking as much makeup as I want. I don’t put it on for anyone else. I don’t do it to be more appealing to guys. (You think a guy is gonna care that the shadow on my lids cost me $80? Or that it’s blended to perfection? Get real.) I don’t do it because society tells me that’s what makes me beautiful. I put it on because I LOVE it. I love the creativity. I love putting colors together and manipulating highlights and shadows on my face. I love doing makeup on others and seeing them love the results. I love seeing how much confidence it can give someone in an uncomfortable situation (wedding party *cough cough*). How about we just decide we’re going to do what makes us happy with our face. Does full makeup every day make you happy? Go for it. Does never touching foundation make you happy? Go for it! Be your beautiful self! Don’t live for any one else. Don’t let anyone tell you to not wear makeup. Don’t let anyone tell you to wear makeup. 

Just be and do you.

My Anxiety Post

My plan for today’s blog post was a fall plus size look book. I had picked out the clothes, put some makeup on, straightened my hair, and even took the pictures. 

I had wanted to take them outside, but it’s almost 90 degrees and I would have melted if I tried to go outside in fall clothing. 

Anyways, I took the pictures and had sat down to slightly crop and edit them – until I saw myself. 

Normally I’m a very positive person. I love myself and who I have become and I’m happy with the way I look 99.9% of the time. I also love all the clothes that I had put on and normally I think I look great in them. 

But today is a different story. 

As I looked over the pictures I found myself getting upset and discouraged. 

Why would anyone want to look at pictures of me looking fat in fall clothes?

The pictures look too grainy to post on a blog that you want to be as professional as possible. 

Your cheeks are too red. 

Why in the world did you pick that lipstick?

Those are all the thoughts that ran through my mind. Loud enough for me to say no to a look book post. 

Instead, I want to talk about how even the happiest, most positive person has their bad days. 

I don’t care who you are, every single person has bad days. 

No one is exempt. 

And I’ll admit it – I deal with anxiety. 

Sometimes I don’t even want to go places because of it and apparently  that flows over to the internet as well.  

It’s not limited to plus size women, either. 

Feeling unhappy with your body can happen to anyone – plus size, petite, thin, tall, black, white, Asian, Hispanic. 

Some people deal what those feelings all the time, while others only deal with them every now and again. Thankfully, I’m the latter. 

But today’s one of those days. 

Instead of not posting anything and staying quiet, I’m choosing to make this post – because I know I’m not the only one who struggles. I’m not alone and I don’t want anyone to ever think that they are alone. 

We all go through it. 

We all have our struggles – anxiety, depression, OCD, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, etc etc. 

And you know what? The greatest thing that hold us back from talking about it is the thought that we’re alone. 

We convince ourselves (or the media does) that everyone is happy and perfect and we, alone, are the broken ones. 

But we’re not broken. 

I’m not broken and neither are you. 

I personally take comfort in my Lord and knowing that He loves me though the anxiety and body image issues – that He has deemed me worthy of dying for – gives me the ability to step outside of myself and see things the way I should be seeing them. 

So even though today is a bad day, I still know I am worthy. I know I am loved. 

And you are too. 

So here’s me saying anxiety, you won the battle, but I’ve already won the war. 

I Used To Hide Behind My Bright Red Hair

I began dying my hair red at the age of 18. 

Now, I know that most insecure teen girls wouldn’t normally go for something so drastic, but I was looking for a change. I wanted to be different than how I was in high school. I needed to be different. 

 After the first time dying my hair red I was hooked, like a drug, and soon I became dependent on my red hair. 

It was how I felt I attracted guys. Ya know, bright red hair equals sexy vixen. Right?

I kept it up for most of the next seven years, except for a six month period where the majority of my hair was pink and a period of the same length when it was blonde. 


But I rocked the pink, let me tell ya. 

When I was saved at the age of 25 I found myself on a road of self discovery. It was brought to my attention how much I prided myself on my hair and how insecure I was without it. The thought of dying it back to brown scared me. It actually made my anxiety sky rocket because I felt that I would no longer be attractive. 

Who was I without my red hair?

I felt strongly that I needed to find out. I knew I had to find out. 

So one night I made the journey back to brown. 

And guess what?

The world didn’t end, even if I did cry after I saw it. 

I was still me. My face was the same and my personality never changed. 

My hair was….just my hair. 

It’s one part of many that makes me who I am. I can’t base my self worth on having hair that I thought would attract guys. 

I had to find out who I was in Christ, not in my hair. 

And I found myself worthy. 

Worthy of love. Worthy of friends. Worthy of existing. 

I’m worthy with red hair and without. With makeup or without. 

My hair doesn’t make me who I am. 

I make me who I am. 


And I currently have dark brown hair. 

And I love it. 

Big Butts and Khaki Pants  

Why do khaki pants even exist? 

I can remember having this pair when I was 17 and believe me, I thought I looked soooooo cute. Okay, this was 2006 and I wore them with bright Old Navy flip flops and a pink t-shirt (it always had to be pink) so please, no judgement! Anyways, they had a high rise (before high rise was “cool”) waist and I thought that they made me look like I had a flat tummy. Of course, back then I had a semi flat (while still flabby, duh) tummy so maybe it wasn’t all in my head. I tended to do that with my pants and skirts. 

Oh, remember the styles of the early 2000’s! 

Anyways, back then I never thought I’d have to stuff my jelly into them for work – with a belt and polo tucked in! The horror! 

Okay, maybe not horror, but pretty darn close! I mean, who actually thinks it looks good? Especially for a woman with some serious junk in the trunk and a tummy to match? 

I mean, I’m sure I could work it to make myself like the pasty white version (and a plus sized one!) of Beyoncé. 

Okay, who am I kidding, that is a fantasy that slipped out of la la land. I’ll never look anything close to Beyoncé. *tears of mirth* 

Anyways, putting a pair of khakis on and tucking a shirt in pretty much paints a bullseye on my butt that says, “look! I’m huge!” 

And not in a good way either. 

So what’s a girl to do? Cry? Freak because once again someone thinks something will look and it doesn’t? Be upset because once again it will be clear that I’m larger than the other women? 

Heck. No. 

I’ll keep my head up and pretend that I look like a million bucks. Confidence makes up for a lot. It may not make someone think I’m a size 5, but they’ll think I’m perfectly happy. 

And you know what? I am. 

I fought tooth and nail to get to a place where I can look in the mirror and be happy with myself. I refuse to let something like khaki pants make me upset. 

In the fight for happiness you’ll have obstacles to overcome all of the time. Honestly, it won’t ever end and that’s not just for plus size women. Everyone has their own fight. 

But I’m here to tell you that it’s worth it. Whatever fight you’re fighting, it’s worth it. Maybe your fight isn’t with khaki pants. Maybe it’s with your school, your parents, your friends, or even yourself. Whatever it is, know it’s not forever and one day you’ll look back and see that mountain you thought your were climbing was actually an ant hill. 

Or maybe it really is a mountain and you can look back and say that you kicked it’s butt. 

It’s so worth it to be happy, and you know what? I can finally say I’m happy. 

I’ll leave you with a picture of me, in my 2007 fashion, just so you can get the idea. 

Oh yeah.