Fresh air, perspective
A few days ago, I went on one of my tirades about losing my zest for working out. Those who have been following my blog, know that I always turn my rants into actions.
Hopeful to reboot, resurge I decided to lace up my tennis shoes and go outside and take a walk. After all, that’s how this self-transformation / weight loss journey began. I figured since I’m struggling with how to get to the next round of this heavyweight bout…I’d return to my starting point.
As I walked the park, taking in the fresh air, sun beaming down on me I was reminded of the simple pleasures of daily life: I encountered a middle-aged fella walking his adorable little Karin dog, two young girls playing with a soccer ball, and an innocent teenaged couple walking hand-in-hand. I know, I keep saying this, but mostly this is a battle of the mind. The inner self. Walking was not really about the physical exercise, but more about the mental stimulation. I feel somewhat better and encouraged after yesterday’s walk, but I am still not ready to make my way back to the gym quite yet. It’s going to take a few more walks to gain clarity about the direction I want to head for this final push to the finish line. Stay tuned…
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!