atomicnerfbat
New member
They say the first step in solving a problem is, in fact, identification/admission that you actually HAVE a problem.
After close to two decades, I finally feel as if I'm at that first step.
I have been overweight since my elementary school days. For years, my mother tried to encourage me and insist that I would “grow out of it.” So, that's the excuse I first began to make. Once it became obvious that I actually wouldn't grow out of it (and, in fact, continue to grow because of it) I began to point at “obvious” genetic factors. I used to tell people that I was “the smallest one in my family.” I convinced myself that the height and weight of my parents, my siblings, and other associated family members were to blame for my condition. It was a handy excuse, and one that I clung to for years.
Finally, about five years ago, I decided that I wanted to enlist in the Navy. This would be no easy task for a young man tipping the scales at 352lbs. I altered my diet, I began to exercise, and wonder of wonders-I began to lose the weight. I went from 352lbs to 272lbs. In ten months.
Shortly thereafter, my parents divorced and I was pretty much forced out of my home. The only friends I had in high school had gone on to college and I was feeling left behind. I moved into a dumpy little apartment and depression began to overtake me. Not-so-slowly, the weight began to come back. By the time I had left aforementioned dumpy little apartment, moved to Ohio, and got married, I was over my original weight.
Now, I sit here in the cold, Ohio winter at a keyboard. My first child is due to arrive in less than a month.
Finally, I realize that I just can't make excuses any more. I have to accept the responsibility for my actions, and I have to admit that I have a problem.
With that, comes the realization that I actually can do something about my problem.
Here's to a new me.
After close to two decades, I finally feel as if I'm at that first step.
I have been overweight since my elementary school days. For years, my mother tried to encourage me and insist that I would “grow out of it.” So, that's the excuse I first began to make. Once it became obvious that I actually wouldn't grow out of it (and, in fact, continue to grow because of it) I began to point at “obvious” genetic factors. I used to tell people that I was “the smallest one in my family.” I convinced myself that the height and weight of my parents, my siblings, and other associated family members were to blame for my condition. It was a handy excuse, and one that I clung to for years.
Finally, about five years ago, I decided that I wanted to enlist in the Navy. This would be no easy task for a young man tipping the scales at 352lbs. I altered my diet, I began to exercise, and wonder of wonders-I began to lose the weight. I went from 352lbs to 272lbs. In ten months.
Shortly thereafter, my parents divorced and I was pretty much forced out of my home. The only friends I had in high school had gone on to college and I was feeling left behind. I moved into a dumpy little apartment and depression began to overtake me. Not-so-slowly, the weight began to come back. By the time I had left aforementioned dumpy little apartment, moved to Ohio, and got married, I was over my original weight.
Now, I sit here in the cold, Ohio winter at a keyboard. My first child is due to arrive in less than a month.
Finally, I realize that I just can't make excuses any more. I have to accept the responsibility for my actions, and I have to admit that I have a problem.
With that, comes the realization that I actually can do something about my problem.
Here's to a new me.
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