Farewell Fatso!

Better for it

It’s a love/hate relationship. Despite not really like working out. I like working out. Yeah, I know that’s a contradictory statement. Allow me to try and explain.

The physical act of working out I don’t necessarily like so much. I mean huffing, puffing, sweating. Eeew. And for me cardio is the worse. Sure, there may be break through moments when I feel invigorated as I ride up a steep hill. Or when I’m on the treadmill and I get the runner’s high. But mostly working out for me is no fun. I can think of many other things I’d rather do, for starters — sleep in. I faithfully wake up at 4:15 a.m. at least three times a week to go to the gym. Why? Oh, why?

See the thing is I lived most of my life overweight and sedentary. It wasn’t until 2009 I started a bid to lose weight and take control of my health. Over the course of the last four years I strung together about three and a half solid years of working out consistently. After stumbling and falling off the workout wagon, read a previous post here I now realize how important working out is to me. I never want to return to that sedentary lifestyle ever, ever again.

Despite the huffing, puffing, sweating, and overall discomfort — working out makes me feel better. My outlook, my perspective is more positive when I exercise. I’m more upbeat, energetic. I move better. I sleep better. I’m more focused. I think better.  I am better. So, today I realize that I don’t particularly like working out and it probably won’t get easier, read a previous post here, but I workout it because overall I’m better for it — mentally, physically, emotionally.

 

Chrisetta Mosley

I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!

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