When my Doctor first referred to me as being morbidly obese I was confused.
I actually looked around the room, half expecting to find some random fat lady hiding behind the door.
I knew I was a “little overweight” but morbidly obese? There is no way I had let things get that out of control.
I was pushing 300 lbs.
He suggested gastric bypass surgery. I was offended. I told him I would do it on my own. He started rattling off statistics about exactly how difficult that was to do, but whole heartily agreed he would rather have a patient lose weight independently. He made me a 6 month appointment so we could check in and see how I was progressing solo. Something about the look on his face and the tone of his voice told me that he was expecting me to come crawling back in six months admitting defeat. Begging for a better way.
So I decided to prove him wrong.
Many have been asking me how I did it.
That is how it began.
Out of complete spite. I knew I could do it if I tried and I wanted to prove I could. To that Doctor and to myself. So I did.
Here is the most important thing though. The thing nobody wants to talk about.
It didn’t matter.
My weight wasn’t what was really making me sick. I was using food as a way to keep from focusing on other things. Hiding behind it. Using it just like so many abuse drugs or alcohol. Addiction is addiction. Until we are ready to deal with the actual problem, it will keep demanding that we feed it. Whatever our personal “it” may be.
Was I healthier? Size wise I suppose I was.
The screaming little girl locked up deep inside of me wasn’t though.
Far from it.
If I wasn’t going to shut her up with food I had better give her something.
I am happily willing to share all of the physical and mental tools I used to shed the weight, but I’m still trying to figure the most important things out.
What I most want all of you to know is that the more you confront the demons, the louder they demand to be fed. Losing all the weight wasn’t the most difficult part.
Confronting why I gained it in the first place was.
The pictures above are me at my highest and lowest weights. I was equally miserable in both photos.
Emotional distress cannot be weighed or measured. Losing weight is not going to miraculously make it all better. Physically I was 150 lbs thinner in the second photograph. Mentally, the worst was yet to come.
The last picture is a pretty fair representation of where I am at right now.
I’m not the thinnest I have ever been. I’m not running 10 miles a day or even a week for that matter. I have gained back 30 lbs. I have great days and seriously terrible ones.
It has been almost 4 years that I have been able to keep 120 lbs off.
I don’t know all of the answers, I can only share with you what worked for me. The most pivotal thing was realizing that it was more than just my weight holding me back.
The rest of it anyone can do.