Busy. Busy. Here. There. Everywhere. Book signings, speaking engagements, cooking classes, facilitating women’s groups. Then there’s all the behind-the-scene stuff, y’all never see.

So, here I am again — in a funk. Off track with my eating and workout regimen, and not getting proper rest. A recipe for a stressed out, unhappy Chrisetta. Watch out!

I love the way healthy living feels. I never thought I would enjoy working out so much. Eating vegetables. Raw carrots for snacks. So why then do I fall off track? Good question. Maybe because old habits die hard. Healthy living is a new way of life for me so I always default to what I practiced for 36 years. I’ve been blogging since 2010 and unfortunately, there’s a number of blogs on this subject so I’m not gonna spend a lot time trying to rationalize this.

The bottom line is — I know what I need to do. What makes me feel good. What makes me happy. It’s simple. It’s just a matter of staying committed to it. Not missing my workouts – scheduling them in amongst everything else. Sticking with my healthful eating. I know better than this. There are NO excuses.

I love what I do! I want to be your real example. But, if I don’t care of myself how can I help anyone else? I have to find a way to balance it all. It’s time to return to the basics. It’s time to refocus on Chrisetta.


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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