1/4 cup oatmeal
1/2 grapefruit
1 walnut

Bianca: Wait, is that a typo? She can’t possibly mean one walnut! I’m sure she meant to type one handful or one palm of walnuts, right?
Matt: No, I’m pretty sure she meant one.  [snickers to himself]

Having Brianna Marie Glenn as a friend means that at any time or season of weight crisis, you have an insta-athlete at your beck and call. I’ve asked my professional athlete and friend a million times to train me or give me weight tips and she’s always helpful with her suggestions.

But after watching the Olympics every night and noticing the genetically engineered butts of the the gymnastics team and the 8-pack abs of the sprinters, I’m as serious as a heart-attack when I say I want to change my lifestyle.

Here’s a not-so-secret secret: I struggle with my weight. The horrible thing about weight problems versus porn problems or drinking problems is that you can’t hide your sin. It’s visible. To everyone. Even my Spanx. I’ve remained quiet about the recent battle of the bulge because honestly, how many times am I going to cry about my love/hate relationship with my scale? Honestly, I feel like Oprah or Kristie Alley and at any moment I might rip open a bag of Doritos and a tub of vanilla ice cream just to console myself while crying about my weight. Then go on television confessing to the world that I’ve changed my evil ways and I’m a new [skinny] person.

This episode of My Fight Against Cellulite is attributed to a number of medical—as well as personal—issues. I don’t want to get into it excuses or reasons, I just want to be healthy. Bri has asked me to throw away my scale for 30 days [WHY?! Why do you hate the scale, Bri?] and not look at models or athletes as inspirations but pictures of myself [considering I haven’t weighed my 125* since I was seven years old, we might have a problem]. I’ve reconciled with the fact that I will never look like Gabby DouglasHey GabbyBoo, I love you!-–but at least I will have realistic goal for myself.

So here I am again, Internet. I’m telling the world that I’m not healthy and I don’t know what to do. Doctors have run tests, blood work, and hormone calibration. I have done Paleo, SkinnyGirl, Weight Watchers, and hot yoga. I have prayed, pleaded, and begged for a physical healing. But now I am going to train like an athlete and ask God to do a miracle in my body through this step of Olympic faith.

What if I fail and you all know about it? What if I’m never healed and I continually live in my fluffy state of health for the rest of my life? What if eating 1/4 cup oatmeal with ONE walnut is the bane of my existence?

Or what if, maybe just maybe, I can prove to myself that the lack that I feel internally causes a yearning for something spiritually? What if—if nothing else—I prove to myself that God truly is my sustenance and provider for everything I need to feel full? Better yet, instead of gorging or living in second servings or opulence, what would my life look like if I lived simply so others could simply live?

So cyberFriends, for the next 30 days I will try to live like an Olympian. I’ve told you about it so now I have to complete. Pray that in the process of this journey my body is healed and pray that I develop a butt like Gabby Douglas. Ok, ok, I’ll just ask for the first request and if the latter prayer request is answered, I’ll let you know! 😉

*125 pounds is the height and weight ratio as determined by medical BMI [body mass index] standards. I personally think I’ll look like a Q-tip if I ever weighed 125.

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