The Roots of the Problem

It's time to shed some light on how I got to the place I was just before my transformation began. In order to do that, a summary of my life from the beginning bears telling. As this story unfolds, I'd like to unfold the weight-loss story concurrently. As this continues, I'll consider if this approach is viable or if I should concentrate on one story at a time. Your comments will help with this decision.

I was born at a weight of 10 lbs. 13 oz. From the womb, it seemed like I hit the ground running to obesity. Being the last of 6 children and following the 5th by 8 years, attention was heaped upon me especially in the food department. Mom was one of those old-fashioned mothers who believed that a fat baby was a healthy baby. My siblings told me many times that in my infancy, she would consistently feed me until I spit-up. Bless her heart, I never blamed her, but this was the beginning of my programming toward overeating.

At 7 months old I contracted spinal meningitis and was hospitalized for 2 weeks. I came very close to dying. After this harrowing ordeal for me and my family, life pushed on. But after nearly losing her baby, mom's attention to me increased dramatically. Unfortunately, I had a sister who died 4 years before I was born at age 13 from pneumonia. It was more than enough going through the pain of losing 1 child; the thought of losing a second put my parents in "lock-down" mode as far as raising me was concerned.

So some years passed and I grew into an over-sheltered, over-fed toddler. I became aware that something was wrong at about the age of 6. Something just didn't seem "right" or "normal" about me. One day at school when I ran out for recess, it dawned on me that I couldn't keep up with the other kids. Also, I was much larger than all the other kids and not in a good way. Just running out to the playground winded me and worse yet, I saw myself on film of all this going on. I was constantly reminded that at age 6 my weight was 106 lbs. It was a source of pride to my mother. My siblings found it to be a source of alarm. I believe this was the foreshadowing of feelings of unworthiness and low to no self-esteem.

On and on it went, the sheltering from the outside world, the enabling of having junk food meals, candy, chips, etc. almost at whim. I was a very fat kid growing up in a very bad neighborhood. Needless to say, I was tormented, made fun of, and bullied at every turn. The sheltering continued. The only time I ever went anywhere besides school was in the company of family members on rare occasions.

This covers pretty well my life to the age of about 10. At this point, my non-active, massive junk food eating lifestyle was hard-wired into me. This was also the time when my sister gave birth to her son. What developed from this would make my already unhappy childhood a truly hellish experience. I'd like to put a bookmark here and start from this point in my next blog.

Whatever kind of ordeals you or a loved one may have suffered, just know that things can absolutely change! A push in the right direction from someone who cares can work wonders. You just have to work that wonder...and you CAN!!

The first day of training involved a fitness evaluation. This was uncomfortable, to say the least, but necessary. The first step toward fixing a problem is knowing how bad the problem is. I weighed in at 532 lbs. Ouch! My waist measurement was a staggering 74 inches. OUCH!! I'm 6 ft., 2 in. tall. That adds up to 74 inches. I was as big around as I was tall! Unacceptable. My body fat percentage was 50.2%. Just over half my body consisted of fat. This was the wake up call of all time, and I damn well woke up!

The next day, the exercise began in earnest. Many people don't go to the gym because they worry about how they look as they struggle through their workouts. It was an incredibly easy excuse for me to make from the condition I was in. Fortunately, I never even thought about it. I couldn't care less what anybody thought, I had my opportunity and I poured body and soul 100% into it. 5 days a week, 30 minutes per session, I learned to do step-ups, wall push-ups, and many, many beginner's exercises as the sweat poured out and the fat dripped off.

I can still remember the phone conversation as I reported my first weigh-in result (I had to use a special scale away from the gym). I told my trainer I had lost 15 lbs. and suddenly there was applause in the background. This was my first realization that I had a community behind me in supporting my cause.

I never, EVER missed a training session. I kept a fanatically accurate food journal. It was time to prove to myself and the rest of the world that this time, my commitment was cast in stone. I was absolutely going to make it, come hell or high water. There had never been a time in my life when I was even close to physically fit. I was more than curious to find out what it would finally feel like, I was DRIVEN toward it!

Now I knew that it would take about 2 years to reach my weight-loss goal, but I figured the time was going to pass whether I did something or not. When the time came, I could be fit and strong for the rest of my life, or I could just be 2 years older and even worse off than I already was. Looks like the right choice was made, eh?

Stay tuned for the next blog and more details and encouragement as the stories progress. Keep up the journals and the active lifestyle. I'm right there in your corner!