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Truly, Madly, Deeply

My first week of classes in the fitness trainer program are off to a good start. I’m looking forward to learning lots and making tons of new connections. Speaking of… Monday in class, I met a tall, dark, New Yorker. We chatted a little. He was friendly, and from our brief encounter it seemed we had at least a few things in common. He asked for my phone number. We exchanged a few text messages that day, no biggie. Then, yesterday, after class he asked if we could meet and chat. We agreed on a time and place. Well, today, I was at the place, at the time, but he wasn’t. I gave him the benefit of doubt and waited for ten minutes. Once the clock struck 25 after I was gone.

The old me would have waited at least a half hour and I probably would have texted or called him to find out his whereabouts. I also would have questioned myself. Why did he stand me up? What’s wrong with me? Oh, the thoughts that would have filled my insecure, unsure mind. But, I’m so happy and proud to say those types of behaviors are long behind me. There is nothing wrong with me. The issue here is that he didn’t have the decency to text me to say he was unable to make it. I should mention I have no idea if he was trying to hit on me. Perhaps he was just wanting to meet as classmates, however the old me would’ve automatically assumed he wanted more. And whether he was hopeful to date me or not, the fact still remains he did not show up and that’s plain rude.

Is it that big of a deal? Should I really take the time to blog about it? Yes, because this ladies and gentleman is about me and my behavior. Not his. It’s about the way that I reacted to the situation and how I’ve grown as a person. The old me would have placed all the value in some guy I barely knew. Seeking, searching, approval and attention from any outside source to validate me. No longer. I value my time. I value myself. It’s been a long time coming — the process of self-love and worth. It’s not just tied to any one incident, certainly not this incident, but instead a multitude of instances, situations, and lots of lots self-reflection. I truly, madly, deeply love myself. I’m the girl who shops at Neiman Marcus.

Chrisetta Mosley

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!