It happened. I thought I was beyond it, but there I was in my Exercise Technique class having flashbacks. Flashbacks of being the slowest, last, and fattest girl in PE class.

Flashback #1 Unable to easily sit on the ground, which as an morbidly obese person I couldn’t do either. So I had to grab a stability ball to sit on while the rest of the class sat comfortably on the ground in criss-cross applesauce position.

Flashback #2 As we are doing dynamic warm-ups across the length of the room I’m always one of the last to finish.

Flashback #3 When in small groups I tend to be the one in the group that others coddle.

My fitness level is the best it’s ever been — remember, I’m the girl who graduated high school at 300 lbs.? So where I am today is really good from where I came from. But since I’m rehabbing a fractured Tibia it makes for a difficult time with some exercises. As much as my heart and my mind say go, go, go. My body after seven months is just not quite ready. I’m sure it’s the reason I’m not able to perform at a higher level because I tell you — I so badly want to. Walking around campus and doing normal activities I manage to do just fine, but some exercises I’m still not able to give my all. It’s frustrating. I try not to allow demons in my head, but every once and a while they show up. Yesterday, they showed up and got the best of me. I only write about what I truly feel and yesterday I felt like the slowest, last, and fattest girl in PE class.

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!

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