People love to frame weight loss as a glow-up. Like it’s about becoming more attractive, more desirable, more “worthy” to look at.
I get asked all the time:
“Do you think you look better now?”
“Do you think you’re hotter?”
That question has always missed the point.
I never thought I was ugly. Not then, not now. Did I fully love my body? No. And if I’m being honest, I’m still working on that. That didn’t magically fix itself when the weight came off.
What did change is how it feels to exist in my body every single day.
I can bend down and tie my shoes without it being a whole event.
I can take stairs without planning my breathing.
I can run around and play basketball with my son and not feel like I need to sit out after two minutes.
I have energy. Real energy. The kind that carries me through a day instead of dragging myself across the finish line.
I sleep better. I wake up clearer.
And yeah—my health is better. Not in a vague, inspirational quote way. In a real, measurable, lab-results-don’t-lie kind of way. Better than it’s ever been. Even better than before kids, back when I thought I was “fine” but my habits were quietly working against me.
But no one really talks about the other side.
The loose skin. The parts of your body that don’t snap back no matter how hard you work.
The way you still catch yourself feeling “big” in rooms, even when you objectively aren’t anymore.
The mental lag—like your brain hasn’t caught up to your body yet.
The frustration of buying new clothes constantly because nothing fits for more than a few months. Spending money just to feel comfortable in your own skin.
Looking in the mirror some days and thinking, “Why do I still feel the same?”
Weight loss isn’t a clean before-and-after. It’s messy. It’s physical, but it’s also deeply mental.
Running didn’t just change my body. It changed my life.
It gave me back my health, yes—but also something harder to explain: a clearer mind, a steadier sense of self, and a kind of mental toughness I didn’t know I was missing.
So no—this was never about becoming “hotter.”
It was about becoming someone who can show up in their own life.
Stronger. Healthier. More present.
And that matters more than anything a mirror could ever show me.
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