A new blog; a new opportunity. As I sit at my computer and look at the blinking cursor on the empty screen, I can't help but think of what might come of this feeble attempt to make the world a better place. Whose outlooks may be changed? Who might finally get the encouragement and motivation they need to experience the fullness of life that has been available to them all along? I must admit, the prospect both exhilirates and terrifies me. I know as well as anybody that change is never easy; but I also know -- from experience -- that true transformation is undeniably worth the effort.
But before I officially launch into my little corner of cyberspace, I should properly introduce myself. And in order to do that, I need to give at least the skeleton of my own story. I was born at the twilight of the 1970s as the only child to two very loving parents. From the outset, I was a very bright and inquisitive child; I loved learning how the world worked, and took naturally to interacting with people. I should have been quite popular with my peers, but one thing held me back: my weight. I had always been large for my age -- I was over 10 pounds when I was born, and I continued that trend through my school years. My adolescence took place before the era of the childhood obesity epic, so many of my fellow students simply didn't know how to approach someone who looked so differently than they did. Thus, self-consciousness and self-doubt became my constant bedfellows. I found that I could gain affirmation by achievement -- both scholastic and extra-curricular -- so I threw myself into being the best at whatever I attempted. I developed a fierce competitive streak, and when I didn't live up to my own outrageously high standards, I found comfort in food.
By the time I reached high school, I was morbidly obese. I had tried joining the shot put and discus team in middle school, but only met with limited success. Frankly, I was terrified (and ashamed) of the warmups at the beginning of every practice: we had to jog a lap around the track before we did our opening stretches, and I could never make it around without stopping to walk. I found success in other, non-athletic areas; thus, I pursued those avenues. Socially, my high school experience was usually awkward at best -- even among close friends, I always felt like there was some sort of invisible barrier between the "regular" people and me. This mindset continued on into college and early adulthood, as well. I wistfully imagined what life would be like for me if I could just look like everybody else; I figured that if I could just be "normal," the portals of heaven would open up and I would live the golden life that I had always dreamed of. Okay, maybe not. But at least I wouldn't have to constantly second guess the motives of everyone around me.
My breaking point seemed to come in the summer of 2008, when I worked as a graphic design intern in India for two and a half months. I had been warned before I went that people from other countries -- especially Asians -- were not as guarded in their estimations of others as were Americans. However, the reality of that statement smacked me in the face mere moments after I stepped off the plane, and continued to do so throughout my time there. From being called "huge" to my face to being denied transport by taxi drivers because of my size, I was quickly made aware that the blinders that I had put on myself did not make the problem any less real. This, however, as provocative an experience as it ended up being, was not enough to get me to make a change. That came when I came back to the United States and realized that I would love to go back and work full-time there for a few years. My only problem was that the agency that accepted me as an unpaid intern would only grant me paid employment if I met a certain BMI requirement. That realization was compounded by the fact that I was quickly approaching my 30th birthday, and knew that there had to be more to life than what I was experiencing. So, on February 10, 2009, I set foot for the first time into a Weight Watchers meeting.
Two years of life change have taken place since that day. Over the course of this blog, I hope to share with you the lessons I've learned and the battles I've fought during that time. But as an incentive to stay tracking with me, let me tell you the happy (almost) ending of my story. (I say almost because I'm not quite to my goal yet, but hope to be there soon!) In total, I have lost over 200 pounds, have dropped 18 dress sizes, and can now run a 5k straight. And now, I feel a passion for "paying it forward." I know that the blessings that I have been given have not merely been for my own personal benefit; I can use them to help my friends and loved ones make the most of their lives, as well. I've also learned that transformation is not an event: it's a process. It takes dedication and perseverance -- hence, I've decided to name my blog "Staying the Course." True life change, be it physical, emotional, financial, or spiritual, is not a sprint; it's a marathon. It takes motivation and endurance to maintain and finish well -- and that is what I hope I can instill within my little niche of the web. God Bless, my friends! Let's do this together!
