Repost: I am fat, I am not fat – Thank you
I’ve said this many times before I can not lose this weight in silence. Losing 170 + lbs. is no small feat. I’ve been told by two personal trainers that most people won’t start what I finish. I finish because of a great desire, a crazy amount of will that propels me to keep going, but I can’t do this without writing. As a child, I always liked to craft stories. I use to read books endlessly as a result I had a wild imagination so I would write wild stories. I LOVE words. I love manipulating them. I love the English language and all of the nuances. So as an adult, I went to college in my late twenties and received a degree in journalism. I found though that I really didn’t like journalism writing much there’s no room for my voice or creativity.
Anyway, I started writing this blog because I wanted to publicly document my journey, share my story. I never imagined that sharing my story would actually be cathartic for me. In retrospect, perhaps I really started writing because I don’t know any other way. Those wild stories I use to write as a child where my brief escape from my childhood and penning my lifetime battle with obesity is my escape now.
I’ve been obese since I can remember and so losing this weight is not about just losing the weight. I have layers, upon layers of emotional, spiritual damage to repair. I’m learning how to love myself. Truly, love myself. There are no quick fixes for this. This is my life. I’m trying to figure out new ways to handle things without turning to food. I’m trying to create a healthy relationship with food and exercise. When I write to y’all it is raw. I mean what I say, these are my true feelings. So sometimes I may seem a little contradictory, unbalanced — I am. I am fat. I am not fat. I am thin. I don’t want to be thin. I am everything in between. Bear with me, I am trying to finding myself and this is the only way that I know how.
Thank you all for allowing me to document my journey, share my story. I can not do this alone nor do I want to. True, I’ve never met most of you, but knowing that you’re out there encouraging me, offering your kind words and advice gives me the strength to go on. “You’re my hero. You inspire me. …When you share with the rest of us, we all gain a little something too.” Your words keep me going on days when I can’t find it internally. I’m telling y’all what I’m about to do is big. I am going to turn childhood obesity statistics upside down. Not many people beat childhood obesity once they become adults. It’s usually just too late. All of you get to say you helped me. Thank you for helping me. The day we reach the finish line is going to be sweet victory. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!
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!