I can so relate to the lyrics of Pink’s song Don’t Let Me Get Me. Lately, I’ve been struggling mightily with myself, “I’m my own worst enemy… I’m a hazard to myself.” I’m really, really disappointed in myself. I feel like I should be stronger, more toned, more fit, slimmer. Not fat anymore. I’m really struggling with how to get myself to the next level. I’ve been in this space for a long while. I really had hoped to be much closer to my “Fit by Forty” goal by now. I want to be in the best shape of my life when I turn 40 this summer. I feel like at the rate I’m going I’ll miss the mark. Or will I?

I’ve been putting together a PowerPoint presentation for my talk at the library this Saturday. Last night, mind full of negative self-talk as I was adding more content to the presentation, I just started looking at the photos of myself as a morbidly obese woman. Heavy, heavy sigh. What a reminder. Those photos were, and are a reminder of how far I’ve come. For goodness sake, I’ve lost 173 pounds! I am stronger, more toned, more fit, slimmer, and happier. Why do I continue to put so much emphasize on the negative? Why do I beat myself up so much? It’s the mental, the inner battle. It’s equally, if not as taxing as losing the weight.

I vow from this day forward to give myself a break. To silence the demons whenever they start whispering to me and serve as a reminder to myself about how far I’ve come — I’ll pull out these photos.


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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