You can still call me "Buffy"...

Some people are born athletes who love to work out and go to the gym as much as possible, but I will never claim to be one of those people.

Sure, I used to ride horses every day when I was younger and was on all the sports teams in public school (basketball, volleyball, soccer, etc...), but that was the extent of my physical activity and I wasn't a star athlete by any means. Then, in my early teens, the weight started to pile on, thanks to plenty of servings of  french fries with gravy and pasta with butter. Mmmm...so good! My high school nickname was “Buffy”, which stood for “buffalo butt and hippo hips”; a wonderful nickname started by my older brother and it spread very quickly, ending up in the yearbook under my name. (If only the Vampire Slayer had existed at that time, maybe the nickname would have been more fun.)

I remember the first time I lost a ton of weight was by accident. It was during a summer at Sauble Beach, where I was visiting my grandparents, and I'd have to ride my bike a couple of miles to get to the beach, which I did several times a day (to visit cute boys of course). Upon my return home, people kept complimenting me on the weight loss and I realized I never wanted to be taunted by “Buffy”again. I almost stopped eating entirely, until my best friend eventually told me I was starting to look grey and needed to eat something, so I did and my love for food quickly returned.

Since then, my weight has fluctuated a few times over the years and when I got my first gig on TV, the fat-shaming bullies returned with a vengeance. I was hosting a soap opera segment called “Lather Up” on The New VR, which aired during All My Children, and was previously hosted by the beautiful Cheryl Hickey, who left for a job at Entertainment Tonight Canada. After replacing Cheryl, I received many nasty emails attacking my physical appearance, including one from a man who wrote, “can you not find anyone better than this fat ugly pig?” I was only 22 years old and called my mother absolutely bawling. She signed up to a gym with me right away and I lost a few pounds, but never had fun doing it and I've since discovered the chubby cheeks I was born with will always exist no matter how much weight I seem to lose.

It wasn't until 2007 when I had moved back to Toronto, after working in Kingston and Winnipeg for a few years, and discovered most of my friends had moved away and/or got married, so my mother suggested I start visiting the gym in my condo building to help ease my boredom. I responded to her suggestion by exclaiming, “I HATE going to the gym!” Despite my resistance, I started going to work out for about an hour a day, just to pass the time, and my body began to change. I researched new workouts and what to eat, while taking pictures of my progress to send to my mother, who was down in Florida for the winter. Even though I completely hated the process of working out, I became addicted to the “results" I was getting and determined to enter a fitness competition....at least until I met my husband, who said “my wife is NOT going to be in a bikini on stage”, so there went THAT idea! However, he is my ex husband now. (Insert large smile here.)

I stopped working out almost entirely and put on plenty of comfort weight before we got married, since my husband worked for Frito-Lay (potato chips) and he seemed to like me with more “junk in the trunk”, but then my health took a turn for the worse. I won't get into too many details, other than my body started rejecting food for a few months and I was vomiting non-stop every single day for no apparent reason. 

When I was barely 100 pounds and the bones were coming out of my back, I finally got enough strength to leave my husband (who shoved me in the spare room to die) and moved into my parent's home to get well again. It has been almost exactly five years since I left and I still have major internal issues I am battling, due to the damage caused by the months of excessive vomiting, and basically, food causes me pain. However, I am alive and much better off than many, so “count your blessings” as my mother always says.

I don't work out because I  like it. I don't work out to make others feel bad. I don't work out for a good profile pic. I don't work out to “get boys”, because many don't like it either and are not huge fans of girls whose biceps are bigger than theirs! (Even though that may be a sign of “other” small muscles too. Wink. Wink.)

I have realized working out is something I need to do, just like brushing my teeth. It makes me feel better. It gets my hormones balanced. It gives me more energy. It makes me feel normal and I get really sick without it, but I force myself to go and I'll never harp on others who think the gym sucks, because I agree!!!

I recently got my personal training certification to help others get healthy in my spare time, but I understand I'm selling a product people HATE and I refuse to push people to buy my services unless they want them. Period. 

I wish we were all born with perfect bodies, but we aren't and my body isn't happy unless it's pumping iron, sadly. Sucks for me, eh? We've all heard from doctors that we need to work out for our health, but we just don't BECAUSE it sucks and maybe one day you'll have to do it, like me. However, I promise to never be that girl at the gym who says “isn't this awesome?” and “isn't this fun?” No. It isn't!

Instead, I'll be the girl next to you saying “yes, this totally blows, but wait until you see what happens next!” 

I still plan to do a fitness competition in the near future, as soon as my body allows it, and I know working out will always be a huge part of my life from now on, but trust me, I hate it and misery loves company so you're always welcome to join me!

xo

Love, Buffy

(because I have no problem being one buff bitch.)