What Separates Us

It’s no secret that I was off my workout game for a while, about six months. And it had been even longer since I worked out at 24 Hour Fitness. But, now that I’m back at it, at 24 Hour Fitness. I’ve noticed something.

I see the same familiar faces. The tiny, fierce lady who is always going hard on The StairMaster, the buffed guy, Marcus, who is always lifting, and the older couple who always team up side-by-side on the elliptical machines.

Working out had become a very big part of my life (it is a big part of my life) and I logged a lot of hours at the gym. I met a lot of people there. Recently, I ran into, Allen, a young energetic fella I used to joke around with. We chatted a little. I told him I was just now getting back at it, after a hiatus. Very nonchalantly, he said, “It makes no difference. You’re here. We’re here. That’s what separates us.”

Allen’s right. It’s a choice. It’s a commitment. It’s a lifestyle. It’s not about once or twice. It’s not about one day, one week, or one month. It’s about doing it again and again and again. And If there’s a bump in the road, which there will be. Adjust to the bump and continue down the road.

I’m far from being an athlete. Nor, am I the strongest gal in the gym. But,what I am is, committed. I realize that this get fit thing is a lifestyle. I also realize that I can’t lose the weight or become fit if I quit. So, I continue on. I don’t have to, but I choose to. It’s not that I’m better or stronger. It’s not that Allen is better or stronger. Okay, maybe he is. But, what separates us is our willingness, our commitment.

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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