Farewell Fatso!

The Staircase

Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that I had a big meeting a couple of weeks ago. I was really excited about the opportunity. When I found out I had been selected to present my ideas to the committee I went to work putting together my presentation.  As always, I poured my heart and soul into creating the best presentation.

Of course, my loved ones knew of the opportunity and they were rooting and praying for me. Some of them had even claimed it for me. It seemed to all of us that it was the perfect fit. For goodness sakes the deal was with Clark College. Hello! I already have a huge in there.  C’mon. My cookbook is used in the curriculum and I guest lecture there too.

During the much anticipated meeting, I didn’t get that warm feeling I typically feel. The committee didn’t seemed to be moved much by me or my ideas. I had so many ideas I wanted to share, but didn’t get the green light to share them. It was more of a Q & A session. I was able to share a little of my enthusiasm, but by the end our meeting I felt that I fell flat. I figured if I was chosen they had the best poker faces — ever.

Two days later, I received a phone call from the head of the committee. She said they were  impressed with my ideas, loved my enthusiasm, and noted my professionalism, but…they chose someone else.

At the time, I was very disappointed. Truthfully, I still am a little bit. But, instead, of hanging my head, I’ve chosen to highlight the positives:

- She took the time to personally call me
- She was personally inspired by me and my story
- I was a strong candidate: one of three finalists of six interviewed; out of a pool of 36 applicants

I’m constantly putting myself and my ideas out there. Being told no or not now is a part of that process. I can’t see the entire staircase and that’s frustrating, but I’ll keep climbing  knowing that when I get to the top it will be worth the effort.

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!

Comments


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox

Join other followers: