I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come to the conclusion, I don’t mind being told no. When someone tells me no it just adds fuel to my already ignited fire. Telling me no just means I dig deeper. I’d prefer to be told no ten times rather than told yes just once. I know, preposterous. Just think though if you were told yes all the time you would never find  the other gear.

When someone tells me no, I always think of the now, famous author J.K. Rowling. Her Harry Potter manuscript was rejected on numerous occasions. She was told no multiple times. If she’s anything like me, every time she was told no, she went back to the drawing board and came up with another plan. She never gave up on herself. She believed in herself and Harry Potter. Look at her now, a successful author, film writer, and multi-millionaire probably close to a billionaire. So here I am working really hard to get the one yes that is going to make the difference. In the meanwhile, tell me no again. I double dare you.

This was originally posted on September 28, 2011.

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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