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I hate myself for getting fat

Whaa! I got fat! For the past few weeks I have been going through my clothes, selling them on Ebay, giving them away to friends and packing them to take with me to Dubai. And it has been a real wake up call. I got fat. And it breaks my heart.

Body Confidence?

I know body confidence is very popular now – it doesn’t matter that you are chubby or fat as long as you love your own body. I am not a big fan of that movement. Why? Because first of all: it only counts for women. Fat men are still fat men. Second: because I know there are people that are morbidly obese that are not doing anything about their weight because this movement gives them the excuse not to.

I never really had a lot of confidence in my body. I always felt fat. In fact, I think my earliest memory of feeling fat was when I was 6. We were all sitting in the canteen, waiting for our fries. One of my friends was lifting up her upper legs from the bench. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Because it makes my legs look thin.” BAM. I looked at mine and I could see that in fact my legs were a lot bigger than hers anyway.

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Looking back I can say with certainty that I HAVE NEVER BEEN FAT and if I could go back to 12 to 18-year-old me I just want to slap her in the face. I fluctuated between 60 and 63kg. It was actually the perfect weight for my height. But I always had big boobs and a big but. I guess at the time big butts were not really in fashion – neither were thick thighs. Especially if you were emo, or punk. Or that was what I thought…

Looking back on photographs I just cannot believe how thin and how beautiful I looked and it just breaks my heart that I did not see this myself. That I still thought I was too fat, too ugly, too plain.

Moving to the UK and putting on weight.

When I finished university I had a job selling gas and electricity contracts door to door. I was a size 10. Yes, you read that well. Size 10. I would walk all day and that would obviously help me to lose the weight I wanted. I could eat and drink what I wanted: my activity levels were so high that I just lost loads of weight. And still I did not feel thin enough – I did not feel beautiful enough.

Anyways, I decided to quit that job and started working as a call agent. I went from a very active job to a job where I sat down most of the time. Shit. The kilos just piled on. And my relationship did not help either. My ex was way too happy to tell me how fat I was, that I was a fat cow and that I was ugly. Which obviously did not help either. Anyway -I met my husband, left the dickhead and started planning my move to the United Kingdom to start my life with Josh.

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I was a size 12 to 14 now and I felt bad for gaining weight – but I guess that’s normal when you sit all day. I did go to the gym a lot. The Gym around my corner was absolutely amazing and only cost €20 (£17.50) a month. But this was obviously nothing in comparison to walking and being on your feet all day. But you know – looking back size 12 to 14 is still amazing. It is still great!

I moved to the UK. Living in London was great for my career but a curse for my weight. I started working in the marketing department of a beauty brand, but this meant I would sit all day. The company was small and ran from a home office. This meant that if I wanted to get away from the work – if I just wanted some time for myself, I needed to eat out. Especially since we actually did not have any lunch breaks… I just wanted to get away. And there were three choices to eat out: McDonalds, Subway and KFC. Hello weight!

And the problem as well was that in the UK, gyms are incredibly expensive. The one I went to every day was almost £30 a month. That is almost double of what I used to pay in Belgium. Umphf. And another problem was the I just did not have any time at all in the gym. I was there when the door opened and had 25 minutes to get the most out of my work-out. I would have 10 minutes to shower, get dressed and do my make up before my bus would pick me up 200 m from the gym. In other words: although I did go to the gym, there was no way I was getting enough out of my workout to make a real change on my weight… especially since my diet was shit.

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So I told you I was eating shit at lunch and now I am going to explain how I ate shit for dinner as well. So I normally would finish work at 6. But that is rather the exception as I would often stay until 6:30 or 7. I still had a 60 to 90 minute commute home depending on bus and tube. Some days I would arrive at 7:30- other days it would be 8 or 9 before I would turn the key into the front door. I was just too tired to cook! We used to live with a morbidly obese housemate ( and when I say morbidly I mean 400 to 450 pound man – if not more) who loved mcDonalds take out, loved takeaways and loved pizza (He just hated vegetables and potatoes). So whenever I would come home, sit down – try to relax, it would just be incredibly convenient to order take out.

Shit.

Now I am working from home which is obviously not great either – I am size 16 now.

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I am going to change.

I bloody hate the way I look. A few months ago I got married and I always feel so sorry looking at the wedding pics. How did I get so fat? Why did I do this to myself?

I now work from home and I honest to god wish I could go to the Gym, but the Gym here in Gravesend is £38 a month (EEEKKK – WTF!) while the same gym (literally the same gym – same company AND members can go to these gyms worldwide so Americans can go to the Gym in Gravesend as well) in Golden, Colorado was only $26. I mean F you. Literally.

But since I know that our apartment in Dubai has a pool and a gym, I am vowing to do something about my weight. I packed my most beautiful dresses from 2 to 4 years ago and I really want to wear them again so I better lose some weight fast!

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