Lydene Robertson Photography
Blessed to have seen another year and it has been a wonderful one.
I vowed to be “Fit By Forty” and haven’t quite hit that goal physically. Not from lack of trying or wanting to but it’s hard. Very hard. Oh well, let’s save all the heavy stuff for another post. It’s my 41st birthday and I feel great.
I really like the way 40 feels. I’m closer to God and working on becoming more at peace. I’m happy. Healthy. I know my self-worth. I’m confident.
I don’t dwell on things or try to hold on to them. I know when to let go and move on.
I laugh often. I love with all of my heart.
I’m a work in progress but I like where I’m headed. The best is yet to come.
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!