243 is a number I will never forget.
243 was the number I saw flash and groan across the LED monitor on my scale my first time stepping on it in years .
“I do not care how much I let myself go, I'll never let myself get over 200 pounds!”
I said that to myself when the weight first started piling on when I was about 28 years old. At 42, something went horribly wrong about 43 times. Obese, big-boned, thick, overweight, pleasantly plump, heavy on the bass, BBW, all euphemisms that still amount to the one word everyone wanted to avoid, either on their bodies or coming out of their mouths – fat. No matter how I cut it, no matter how artfully friends and family danced around the sensitive words that might make me feel bad, no matter how less-artful folks brave zero fat-fux about propriety and let insults fly out as they will, I was a biggun!
I tried learning to love the skin I was in and spent years foregoing any exercise program, practicing a serious See-Food Diet lest I like those afflicted with low self-esteem. There are a lot of happy, heavy people. They're all over World Star . No matter what though, I was never happy in the fleshier skin I was in. Weighing all those extra pounds made my body feel like a prison. Energy, spirit, movement, all on lock down underneath loads of stubborn and lazy adipose.
It was not all about vanity or outward appearance either. I used to play Hide 'n Seek , as an adult. I'd be the only person over the age of six roller-skating in her neighborhood. I'd set up and perform in badminton competitions at the park and beach. I did these activities and more before the weight piled on, before eating food became the only competitive activity I engaged in, rivaling only with myself.
Last year, after some wake-up calls, I decided to listen to my own heart and do whatever was necessary to reclaim the old, used-to-be-happy me.
That meant I had to make a move.
I had to pack my saddle bags and spare tire, grab my love handles by the roll and say good-bye to ObeCity . All those other attempts never really counted. The one time I became obsessed with fasting for weight loss and consumed nothing but H2O for twenty-seven days straight. I lost thirty-two pounds and for a brief second it was adios to obesity. One plate of nachos as my break fast later, and two days of swelling, bloating, and vomiting … it was like I never left. Oh Phen-Fen and other pharmaceuticals . False hope in a bottle for as soon as you stop taking these man-made gold-mines, not only is your wallet drained, but the weight piles back on with vengeance. There had been earnest attempts at losing weight, but life just always seemed to get in the way, or if I did not lose thirty pounds in seven days I'd get the good foot and make up for lost calories. This time around I decided would be my last but serious attempt at chasing the numbers on the scale backward. I'm getting no younger, but a lot wiser. I can not blame an unfulfilled life on anyone but myself. If I want to live the life of my dreams, I'd better start doing what other successes practiced daily. Work my ass off!
Seventy pounds down and every desire to dig deeper to lose the thirty more I dream of, my move out of ObeCity feels real now. My figure is changing. My wardrobe is changing. I'm playing Hide 'n Seek again. People are taking notice.
“Kim! What are you doing? How are you getting the pounds off?”
Invariably, I fumble and hesitate before responding. I'm not really doing anything except what we've been advised to do since the population started expanding decades ago – taking less food in and more energy out. I follow no plans, restrict no food groups, or drown myself in water. I've become really good at both listening to my tummy now and trying my darndest to eat only when hunger dictates. I go ' runalking' five days a week for 35 minutes. I can not run for the full 35 minutes and this 'runner's high ' thing I hear mention of still eludes me, but I'm running way more than I am walking. After years of succumbing to gimmicks for my weight loss claims, old-fashioned eat less, exercise more seems to be the perfect trick. No magic pills, persnickety menu plans, or insane workout schedules this time around. Thank the stars!
A better question than how do you stick it? There really are no secrets to weight loss. It's just boring and no one wants to take the scenic route. When you have lots of poundage to lose, like me, the desire would often poop out long before weight loss goals were reached. How to keep up healthy eating and exercise habits as close to 365 days a year as possible is the million dollar question. Food will always be my weakness. I know that. I will never be able to look at a buffet without jolts of electric joy and satisfaction sparking through my entire being. Luckily in my quest to find happiness by way of weight loss, I found something even greater. A passion for writing.
While greed is the best explanation for my years of fatness (nothing was ever wrong with my glands), I was also quite unhappy with other aspects in my life. I hated my job. Food was my only ray of sunshine after a terrible day at work, and since most days were terrible, eating was a way of coping. I quit my job and floundered about a bit washing what to do next. Pounds threatening to pile back on with the extra time on my hand and world in flux, writing helped facilitate my permanent move out of ObeCity .
Writing is all I've ever wanted to do, but I never believed I could. Now that I'm into living the life of my dreams and no one else's, I'm following my passion and writing full-time. Writing is about the only activity I've ever engaged in that makes the time fly by and I think nothing about food. My mind, heart, and soul are united in pleasure when I'm writing. Food, no longer needed.
Tapping into my passion is helping me make the journey from ObeCity to HealthyTown . I would not consider myself a weight loss success story yet, but this is the first time I've ever felt it possible. When the latest diet craze has done nothing but drive you crazy with hunger, and losing weight is the only thing that'll make you a happier camper (you should know you better than anyone else, right?) Try taking some time to forget a hidden passion, one that could possibly replace a false dependency on food. When you're happy and feeling worthy and fulfilled, nothing is sweeter. Not that slice of chocolate cake or even that bag of Lay's Limon Chips. Finding your Happy will be your ticket out of obesity if that is your wish.
Happiness: The best diet drug!