You are a goddamn warrior. Don’t you fucking forget it.
Write THAT down.
There has been so much going on lately that I don’t know what to update you on first. But I think we all need a little ‘Keep Moving Forward’ so here it goes:
I’ve decided diets can kiss my big fat butt. They can lovingly say goodbye to my Mighty Oak thighs. They can tell my stomach ‘Aahh buh-bye’.
All of this came in a revelation of guilt and sadness as I finished a bowl of candy cane ice cream. You know the kind with chunks of candy cane and chocolate crackle that you can only get this time of year? The ice cream that we buy in threes because we eat it every night because it’s frickin’ awesome?
Yeah. That ice cream gave me a revelation about myself.
Fuck dieting. It only makes me feel sad and terrible and I beat myself up when I go off it.
So I’m done.
Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean that I’m literally going to go eat a tub of this ice cream. Or start eating fast food again, or pop, or anything that actually makes me feel like garbage and have gut rot. But I would rather have my holiday treat in a little ramekin and be a happy little duck that such a treat exists and I have the money to afford it. I would rather be “fat” and happy than “thin” and live in a world without super delicious foods.
I put those in quotations because I don’t actually believe I am fat. I HAVE fat, but I am not 100% made up of fat. So even if I weeble and wobble in places, that doesn’t mean I don’t have bones, muscles, or functioning organs roaming around in my body making up other parts of myself right alongside all my thoughts and tiny little heart and brain things that make me uniquely ‘Alli’.
Fat is a tissue not a mental issue.
This is not a ‘Giving Up’, this is a mental health thing. I’ve been beating myself up for being something I’m not and treating myself like something that should be super-human instead of what I really am.
A girl who enjoys food. Sorry I’m not sorry. I’ll try anything once and even sometimes give it a round two just to be sure.
I refuse to let myself be a person who will talk to herself like she’s trash just because she has some pudge. I’m more than the fat on my body and the food I put into my mouth.
I feel ridiculously free and relaxed by letting go this constant hamster-wheel of self-loathing. It’s quite empowering to look at my body and think ‘You are hot, not “even with” but BECAUSE OF your powerful thighs, your big round butt, and the softness of your stomach. They are just body parts girl, and they are working in your favour.”
No matter what shape or size I am, I will ALWAYS be pretty as long as I have a smile on my face and friendship in my heart. So suck it society.
I know that I can change my diet and work out if I want to be smaller. I don’t WANT to be smaller. I just want to be physically fit even if that means I stay the same weight or gain weight from muscle. For that, I can just work out more and be more mindful that while I’m not on a diet I’m still going to eat all my greens because I like them and not mentally kick my own ass when I eat something on the “NO NO NO” list. I would much rather work out than stop eating fun food.
The last five years has been a journey to this point. Hell, I’m sure the last 28 years have been a journey to this point.
I’ve done everything to lose weight and while I have successfully lost 20-50 pounds off and on from random diets and magical “cures”, I would much rather just look in the mirror and go “Hey Beautiful, someone will love your wobbly bits. And from now on that someone is you. Work it sister.”
That’s legitimately how I talk to myself. I’m my own sassy best friend.
Candy cane ice cream has saved my self-esteem. Who knew?
Keep moving forward, quit fat shaming yourself, and eat that fucking ice cream. THE CANDY CANE QUEEN HAS SPOKEN!
I’ll start by stating the obvious: I’m a huge Elvis fan. I dig his music, I watch his movies, and I even have a cookbook of his favourite foods.
Which is why when my friend gave me this book for my birthday that I decided to give it its fair shake even though I’ve already read the one written by Sonny West. (Elvis’s former body guard/security team member/Memphis Mafia member who was fired unfairly by Elvis’s dad and manager for no apparent reason. Then decided to write a book at the time with his cousin and friend about what happened inside the circle so that people could see what Elvis’s drug use had been like and so that they could open Elvis’s eyes to the situation he was sinking in. Needless to say, they weren’t invited back to the Mafia but probably would’ve been forgiven eventually if Elvis hadn’t died. They wouldn’t have even been fired if Elvis hadn’t been out of town when it all happened. …for the record I read the more recent book the Sonny wrote by himself, I didn’t read the other one…yet.)
Anyway, so when I read this I thought awesome, this guy is in with Priscilla and the rest of the gang, he was super close to Elvis and he’ll have some real great stories.
When I first started reading this I thought this man had his head so far up Elvis’ butt that he was halfway in a grave. It seems like even though Elvis died from drugs and the affects of that, that George Klein was still making excuses for him. But as I read on I noticed that he was probably just trying to let us all see the man that he saw. Elvis always treated him right, they rarely fought, and he was an excellent performer to the billionth degree.
In a way I can see the love, but I can also see the fact that he leaves Sonny West practically completely out of this even though he was there at the time. He says that he can never forgive what they did, but I think Elvis would’ve wanted him to.
The only thing that felt really real about the book was Elvis himself. It kind of felt like he was writing with someone breathing over his neck and he was trying to placate them.
I can understand trying not to hurt peoples feelings and showing the good instead of the bad, but at a certain point it’s just brushing it under the rug and ignoring the facts.
He does say that Elvis tried to hide his drug use from him, so he was obviously not seeing anything that Elvis didn’t want him to see. And who wants their oldest friends to see you at your worst when they only expect the best?
He did everyone justice and was very good at telling the right stories. But on the whole it all felt a little fake to me. I’m not choosing sides because quite frankly, I don’t know these people, I wasn’t there, but looking at it from a writing stand point Sonny’s version sat better with me because he was being real. This just seemed like an old friend trying to protect his friends image and make us all see the good in everyone…which in a way was refreshing and nice.
But like Elvis, I want you to come to me with the facts and say it to my face. No beating around the bush, and the whole book felt like it was beating around the bush.