After being fat most of my life and slowly but steadily increasing, I woke up one day back in the fall of 2014 and decided enough was enough. I’ve posted about the journey here before, but it was such a huge lifestyle switch. It started with the basics; tracking calories and then getting into the routine of working out. I was too fat to really run but joined my local YMCA and started going every night. I lost the bulk of the weight between the fall of 2014 and early spring of 2015.
At that point, I had started to make friends through a Reddit fitness group and they encouraged me and held me accountable. One of them lived near me and we started doing races together and I caught the running bug. And now here we are. I’ve done 7 marathons, 1 ultra, and just qualified for the 2021 Boston Marathon.
The journey hasn’t always been smooth, but as you know, that’s how it goes. I wish someone told me at the beginning of this that weight loss is a choice EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. And that never goes away. Even now, I track every day and make stupid choices like bike commuting in the Chicago winter as a way to maintain. Most of those in my life never knew me when I was fat and make snide comments about my body and lifestyle and I’m always quick to point out that I earned this.
Don’t lecture me about being a size 0, I have worked VERY hard to be here and I have every right to feel bad about how I look.
Which brings me to why I’m posting this. I wish someone had told me at the start that I would not have a chance of looking like how I wanted without surgical intervention. Weight loss takes a toll on the body. Size 16 to a size 0. Not only is there extra skin, but my abdomen has stretched out. I have a pooch. A pooch of my sagging muscles that gets bigger the stronger my abs get. Yes, I know I look better, but I am deeply unhappy with how I look. Despite all the working out and calorie counting that I will always do, I have done all that I can. I still look in the mirror every day, or just look down at my abdomen, and see fat me starring back. I hate fat me. I’ve done so much to move on and evolve. Even those who knew me back then barely remember because I am such a different person. But I carry her still.
I started to think about plastic surgery a few years ago, before I was at a “goal weight” and decided that if I could hold steady for at least a year, I would pursue. Well, it’s been over 2 years. So I started to go on consultations. It was a relief in many ways because they confirmed that I had done all I could have. The only way to get rid of the pooch was to repair the muscle and remove the extra skin. And that’s happening tomorrow.
Tomorrow we send off fat me. I am not her and I am elated to finally move on.