For as long as I can remember, I was always the one who ate everything on my plate and then some. My parents made me eat, and eat… and eat some more, and it made sense because I was the pickiest eater during the first few years of my life, so a shit ton of food going down my throat at any time of the day was good for them.

Eventually, I grew out of that “picky eater” phase and they couldn’t stop me from eating, but that didn’t concern them. “You should eat, and eat!” were the only words ever preached to me by my mother. Still to this day, roughly 325 miles apart she will send a text or call asking if I have eaten.

I remember the first time I sucked in that belly of mine. I was probably seven or eight at a family friends wedding. I was running around with some other kids when a young lady stopped me. She knew who I was, apparently a friend of my mom. All that mattered at the moment was she was pretty and for the first time, a rush of insecurity came over me.

As I stood there in front of this pretty lady, I felt myself hold in my breathe, suck in my tummy, and hide my double chin. That would be the first of many days to come in which I would suck in my belly and try to look slimmer around others.

People say you have to want to be fit in order to get there. They say you have to work hard to get rid of the flab in your belly area. And I agree, but it’s certainly not easy.

Some people are gifted with a hot bod and never have to worry about gaining any weight, but I can’t take that risk.

My weight shifts from 108 to 112 pounds here and there, and for a girl that’s 5’2” it’s really not bad. So yes, I have evened out my weight to height ratio over the years and have taken care of myself, but I am not near close to where I want to be.

Those days of indulging in donuts, sugary drinks, and carb-filled foods are not over. I have gotten better at watching what I eat, but I still have my cheat days (almost every day). I give in to a slice of pizza or a cookie and I definitely fail to exercise on the regular.

Being fit for me is not easy because I fail in what people call “self-control.” And no matter how many times I hate what I see in the mirror, a slice of cake sounds so much better than a bland salad.

I sound pathetic, I know. I want to have a nice bod but I can’t resist the one thing preventing me from reaching my goal. Kill me. But! If I say so myself, I did not have a glossy, sprinkle-filled, mouth-watering, orgasmic donut today so choke on that.

This journey to reaching a flab-free belly, unfortunately, won’t be fulfilled in a few days. It takes a shit ton of time to get to where I want to be, and I am nowhere close to being where I want to be. But I want it so bad and it would make me happy if I could just eat better.

If I end the day saying I had more meat and veggies than cheese and bread, it's a win for me. If I find myself walking more than sitting, it’s one step closer to where I want to be.

In the beginning, I went head first into running a mile every other day and starving myself at the same time. I went with the “if I don’t eat, I won’t get fat” trick and it killed me.

Oh, and trust me, it works. You will definitely lose weight if you starve yourself and push your body to run crazy distances when your body isn’t used to doing such things. Believe me, it works like magic and you look amazing but you feel like a piece of shit. And when it comes down to it, when your body gives up and says no more, you gain it all back and then some. It’s a beautiful process and a full on roller coaster of emotions. In the end, you end up hating yourself more than ever.

By the end of it, I weighed 120 pounds. I gained 10 pounds rather than losing 10 pounds — awesome right?

The first time around, I failed miserably. The fourth time around, I got better but work, school, and stress got in the way. The few times after that, nothing really got done. See the thing is, if you go head on first, hardcore, "let's make a drastic change overnight" kind of attitude, you aren’t getting anywhere. Or at least I won’t be. I still struggle with realizing that it’s a process, and a long process.

Making time every day to exercise, at least for a few minutes, is better than trying to do a hardcore workout for three hours straight once. I’ve come to realize now how to get to where I want to be with my body (after the 1000th time trying).

Getting fit is not easy, and will never be easy. If you don’t sweat it, then you didn’t get anything done. I hate to say it but I’m actually going to have to try in order to get to where I want to be. (Dear God, help me.)