The first time I seriously decided to lose weight was back in 2013 after my heaux ass got caught up in a situation-ship gone horribly wrong. Yup, some fuckboy (I’m clearly over it…) had a bitch all up in her feelings. The shit bothered me so much that I decided that after putting on even more weight from comfort eating (as you do when you get sad, because for some reason it seems like a good idea to eat a whole tub of Haaen Daaz Strawberry Cheesecake to yourself whilst re-watching the entire Sex & The City boxset, wondering why you can’t find a Mr Big or at last a Aiden), I wasn’t going to get bitter, I was going to get better.
And I did.
Listen, sometimes there is nothing like the cold, sweet revenge of the post-fuckboy glo-up to motivate you to get your shit together.
I cut out carbs and did Zumba almost every day, and I got myself down from a size 18 to a size 14. Bitch, I looked fan-fucking-tastic! During that time I also made great strides in my career by turning my debut novel, ‘Unfamous, Book One’, into a highly successful web series, and even started practicing spirituality -the upset was that deep.
Every day I wished that I could bump into him and show him how much better and more successful I was now that he was out of my life (sings Beyonce, ‘Best Thing I Never Had’).
Now, as much as hurt feelings were my motivation, so was my vanity. I set myself the goal of a size 14 because that meant that shopping was easier; my size wouldn’t be sold out coz all the other big bitches got to Primark before me (size 12, 14 and 6 are always the last ones left kmt). I could wear more of the shit I wanted, and losing the weight made my gorgeous mug more gorgeous.
Then one day, my anger kind of wore off. I was over the infallible dickhead (see…totally over it) and had given up on ever bumping into him, plus I’d hit my size goal, so I got kinda…really…a lot lazy.
By the start of 2015 I was right back where I started.
The fact that I like my face so much was also another setback. When I started putting the weight back on I would be like ‘Yeah, but I’m still cute though’ and use it as a crux as to why re-gaining everything I’d lost wasn’t such a big deal. I could still get man regardless (because obviously dick is a great reason to let all of my hard work go to shit -_-)
Fast-forward to 2016. I was bigger than ever, at a size 18 bordering on 20. I was unfit as fuck (I’m talking walking up the stairs in my home and being embarrassingly out of breath), I lived in my waist trainer and other various forms of shapewear (big, big Bridget Jones control panties included) in order to fit into my clothes, and I did what we all do every New Year’s Day -made the resolution to lose weight. I got a food diary, dusted off my Zumba DVD’s and stepped on the scales...to find a three digit number glaring back at me.
I almost went into cardiac arrest then and there.
100 fucking kilograms!
I’d avoided looking at the scales for ages because it meant that I didn’t have to face the results of how much my current lifestyle was affecting me hence I wouldn’t have to feel too bad about it, but I wish I had because…100 kg. Oh lort! A heaux is all of 5”3, so for me to weigh that much meant that I was looking like a chocolate dumpling (that’s low key my stripper name by the way) with extras.
I started my new diet asap, and thus #SkinnyBitch2016 began… then stopped…then began again…then stopped…and then…you get the point. Coz realistically, that’s how half-assed New Year’s resolution diets go, init? You’re on your shit for a hot minute, then you fuck around and get high and demolish that same tub of Haagen Daaz ice cream again, and tell yourself that it’s fine because you’ll start again on Monday, so while you’re at it you might as well enjoy that pizza too. Monday comes and for some reason (which you’ve found some ridiculous way to rationalise) you haven’t returned to your diet, so you change it to next Monday. That Monday turns into next Monday…and the next…and the next.
That summer I was headed for NYC, and I would be damned if I set foot in that country without being able to rock the clothes I used to be able to fit into before I fucked up, so a bitch started juicing. That lasted about month.I dunno about you bitches, but that shit is not for me. Kale is what sadness tastes like and I missed solid food.
I also started walking halfway home from my day job. I worked in Mitcham at the time, and I live in Battersea, so the halfway point for me was Earlsfield station. It was a long ass walk, around an hour, but a bitch was determined to turn some heads is the US of A goddammit! All I needed was to get down into the 80kgs by August and I would be good to slay everybody and their mum’s life.
I actually did it.
After the dead juicing method got dropped, I reverted to a no carb lifestyle change, with one ‘cheat day’ a week.
3 months later I was 11 kilos lighter. I still had to pull out my shapewear every now and then, but I was cool.
After New York, I messed up multiple times but managed to maintain the weight I went there with. After more failed attempts I finally got back on track, joined the gym and downloaded ‘Lose It!’, a free app to help me consume the correct amount of calories per day to help me achieve my goal weight (I’ll do a full post on this soon).
I’ve dropped even more kilos since then and I’m now at the lowest weight I’ve been in years. I feel so much better about myself physically and mentally, but there is still a long way to go.
At my height I’m supposed to weigh 9 stone. I’m guessing that’s around a size 10, so that’s what my new goal is. I’m taking the ‘shoot for the moon land on the stars’ approach, which means I’m gonna aim for a size 10 but if I get down to a size 12 this summer, bitch, that’s still a victory. According to the ‘Lose It’ app, I will hit my goal weight by summer 2017. We will fucking well see about that!.
This time around, my motivation for weight loss isn't validation from some tickle dick boy, it’s me. I want to be generally more of an all-round badass typa heaux in all aspect of my life, and my health (and fleekiness, coz a bitch is still vain) is a big part of that.
So, fancy faces, after that long ass intro, welcome to #SvelteHeaux2017, a blog dedicated to that long way to go.
Now let’s get one thing clear; this is not a weight loss blog. I repeat -THIS IS NOT A WEIGHT LOSS BLOG. It’s a relatable big bitch blog that documents my (suffering) weight loss journey, the tea on what it’s really like being fat, and most importantly, this blog is about self-love. I’ll be focusing on easy dieting tips and tricks, partaking in weight loss challenges, simple but delicious healthy recipes, big girl style hacks and look books (because slaying bitches in these skreetz is life), but most of all, I’ll be ranting about fat girl shit.
Maybe it’ll inspire some of you heaux’s, but if not, at least it will make you laugh, and laughter burns calories so it’s a win-win.
I hope you enjoy the laughter, rage and lavishness that will come with this journey.
Please leave a comment below, get at me on my socials (@ScottyUnfamous), and if you enjoyed this post, please share it.
Eat some bread for me. I miss it.
Love Scotty x