Every journey must have a beginning. I guess this is when I'm supposed to lie on the therapist's couch and recall, "It all started when..."
I was a normal-sized as a child until I hit my early teens, and then the weight started accumulating gradually. I wasn't an avid participant in sports, and I wasn't interested in putting much effort into gym class through my junior year in high school. I was told, especially by my paternal grandfather, how cute it was that I took seconds or thirds at the table and how welcome I was to extra dessert. My close family gave me the nickname of "Garbage Can" as my food habits got worse and the pounds started accumulating. I didn't become morbidly obese during high school, but I did reach 155 pounds.
I slimmed down during my junior and senior years due to an increase in the amount of exercise I was getting from riding my bicycle long distance and dancing in the spring musicals. I wasn't home for meals and late evening snacking, so my calorie intake decreased as well. I liked the changes in my body and the compliments I received, so I started putting more effort into gym class and exercise. I ultimately decided on a career in the Air Force and dipped under their weight limit of 134 on the day I enlisted. I weighed in at 133.
After basic training I, unfortunately, never saw that weight again. The freedom of being a young adult without supervision meant worsening eating habits and the addition of adult activities like drinking alcohol. I ordered Dominoes pizza a couple of times per week. Nobody was around and watching, so I ate the entire pizza myself. I became a frequent customer of all of the fast food places near the base where I was stationed in San Antonio, TX. My friends and I added an entire meal to our daily routine when we discovered that these places were open 24 hours, and after a night of beer and snacks, we could then have a burger and fries before bed. I had a little money in my pocket now, and I used most of it for food and alcohol. A boyfriend remarked one day that I "was losing my waist." The insult stung, but I laughed it off. When I was transferred to Germany and discovered great-tasting local treats such as fried schnitzel sandwiches and dark German beer, my daily intake of calories increased even more. Other than some ice skating at the outdoor rink, dancing and walking to and from the bus and train I got little exercise. When I left the Air Force and returned to the states I was up to 165 pounds at age 23.
My bad habits and weight gain would not stop for the next 29 years. I didn't choose healthy food. I ate way too much processed and fast food. The portions I ate grew to insane amounts. I didn't exercise regularly. I joined gyms but didn't return after the first week or two. I tried diet fads and stuck to them for only a couple of days. I began to use excuses for the scale. Either it was because I had gone through a bad break up or I was going through a rough time for one reason or another.
My mother died suddenly of a heart attack when I was 28. On the morning of her funeral, the same grandfather who thought it was cute to encourage me to eat seconds turned to me in front of everyone in the room and said, "Well, Judy, it looks like you're the fattest one in the family now!" Besides being the rudest, most cruel thing he could have said to me at that moment, he was right. I had nearly passed the 200-pound mark.
In the coming years I reached 220, 230, 240, 250... The specific excuses and dates don't matter, and imparting decades worth of stories about my pain and suffering, divorce, illness, injuries, surgeries, car accidents, death of loved ones, mental abuse imposed on me and every other excuse I could come up with is unnecessary. What matters is that I continued to abuse my body with food for way too long and was heading down a short road to major weight-related medical issues. I cannot blame anyone else or what they did to me or what they said to me. All along, I was in control of what I put into my mouth.
My cholesterol sky rocketed. My blood pressure was elevated. My ankles and feet were constantly swollen. I couldn't move without pain. I have suffered with some medical issues over the years that are not related to my weight and have allowed myself to use them as extra excuses for gaining even more. The comments and insults about my appearance increased and made me feel worse about myself. I fell into deep depressions more than once. What did I do to make myself feel better? I ate, of course! Somewhere along the way I stopped drinking alcohol except for special occasions, but my caloric intake didn't decrease because I constantly added more food until the amount of food I was ingesting was beyond insane.
Until my birthday in 2011.
A friend took some photos of me after we had enjoyed a large meal and ice cream cake for my 52nd birthday in July. I could not bear to even look at the photos when she posted them on Facebook the following week. I was a blimp. I asked her to remove the photos, and she did, but I knew that removing those photos didn't change my physical state. I prayed to God for strength. I promised Him I would change.
Soon thereafter I visited my doctor. When I stepped on the scale I almost passed out. The number that was recorded in my chart that day was too much for me to bear. I requested blood work primarily to check my cholesterol, but I also suspected I might be entering the early stages of diabetes. I was extremely happy to learn that I was wrong. Other than my high cholesterol my blood values were normal, and I was cleared to begin a healthy lifestyle of proper diet and exercise.
I've been using the Richard Simmons FoodMover program since Oct 20, 2011. The improvement in my overall appearance and health is incredible. I know I can and will continue this program for the long haul. I look forward to a much healthier 2012 and beyond!
