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Naturally, I feel like this should be kept real, and that the above picture that you see isn't actually me. It's my younger and at the time 17-year-old sister. Now I'm not going to degrade her, but the most recent pictures that I downloaded onto my computer from the past couple years are all of her or plants. Not a single one of me. Now, whenever I see pictures of myself, all I can see are the things that I don't have or what I don't like. For example, a budding double chin. Constantly I look at myself and I ask this singular question: "Why do I never turn out the way that I had planned?" It's a very hard question with two decades worth of complex layers, yet I always seem to bounce back to these reasons. One, there's always next year. Two, I can always start tomorrow, and three, I just never have enough time.
What do they all have in common? Excuses. The reason why they're excuses? I keep saying I never have enough time, yet I only work a part time job that's ten hours a week max. I've always thought that I hated excuses and that I'll be done with them. That this year is going to be different and yet it never is. I always disappoint myself. Even now I'm texting my boyfriend about what we're going to be eating out at and what I'm going to be eating. In case you were wondering, it's not a salad.
For years, I've been seeing all these pictures of what I want to look like. I've been trying to set them as goals. Nothing ever works. I say, "Maybe I'll try again tomorrow." Why is trying to better myself and my new year always so difficult? Why can I never love myself and my body? Why is it that over the span of these past two years I've been making excuses over and over again?
It's hard to tell, if I'm being honest. I've never even seen myself go down this self-destructive path that I've been walking on. It wasn't until I participated in the Me Strong 5k this past weekend and almost let myself quit that I realized, why would I quit? The reason I joined the 5k was to celebrate the life of my Tetta who had passed away this past December to cancer.
Honestly if she knew what I was thinking she'd be throwing her chanclas left and right at me. She'd be able to hit me most of the time.
And that's when I noticed exactly what I was doing—I was using my self-hate as an excuse as to why I couldn't make myself better. I've been doing that for years. Resulting in years' worth of heavy shoulders and a slimy feeling, one that's never gone away until that moment.
So yeah, it's a little late, but I'm ringing in a little past the New Year. One that I'll make better for myself. Who knows? Maybe this time next year, I'll be seeing more pictures of myself on my camera.