Someone recently asked me, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for love?” I hadn’t thought about it before, but I was almost instantly brought back to early 2016 when a 20-year-old me lost 50lbs for a crush.
It started off the way it normally did for me: girl meets boy, girl befriends boy, girl falls for boy, boy has no idea. Now, for his privacy and my pride, let’s just refer to said crush as The Boy. In The Boy’s defense, I was always finding myself in these situations being the hopeless romantic type. Anybody who was even remotely attractive, funny, or showed me attention, I was immediately infatuated with. But given my 200 plus pound body and having been raised on “Family Guy” I had mad “one of the boys” vibes. Not something most boys would jump at the chance to be with apparently.
The Boy was different. I’d never connected to someone as fast and although my imagination had been known to run off and do its own thing, I was convinced he felt the same way. He confided in me, wanted to spend all his time with me, and I made him laugh. The only problem was that I most definitely wasn’t going to confess my feelings for him. He was a thin, blonde haired, blue eyed guy who already got a lot of attention from other girls. Meanwhile, I was at my heaviest at a whopping 203 pounds and only 5 feet and 2 inches to my name. Not to mention, I was a virgin who had no idea how to talk to boys in that way.
So, when New Year’s came, I set myself a new goal. I was going to keep being friends with The Boy all the while losing weight and charming him. This plan started off great. I was losing weight slowly but surely and healthily and we were creating the college bonds they write movies about.
Flash forward to 2017. I was down to my skinniest in ten years, 153lbs. I was getting compliments left and right and I felt so good about my body, I was ready to have it explored like freakin’ Mars. Me and The Boy’s friendship was strong after having co-habituated with our other close friends and squabbles were had but squabbles were quickly squashed. The only thing left to do was to lay all my cards on the table and fall deeply in love as if we were in a Taylor Swift song.
Then, without warning, without incident, the ship sailed. Suddenly, The Boy was always busy with school or work or throwing parties he couldn’t be bothered to invite me to. I confronted him, even asked if everything was okay. After a quick fight through text and two weeks of not talking, he finally apologized and promised to do better. But The Boy did not do better. I was left confused and emptier than I’d ever felt and I went on a crash diet. (By the way, don’t try crash dieting! It only leaves you hangry and heavier because all the deprivation makes you binge!)
I’ll probably never know why The Boy and mine’s relationship faltered the way it did. I do know, however, that it had to happen because nothing is chance in this life. Maybe clarity will come with more time, I’m not sure. But I did learn something: Becoming thinner won’t make a boy like you. If it does, he’s not worth it. And sometimes they were never worth it to begin with.
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