Five years ago I came into FA, desperate to lose weight. I weighed 330 pounds and was ravaged by medical complications. I had sleep apnea, hypertension, fibromyalgia, renal failure, incipient heart failure, premature osteoarthritis, and pre-diabetes. At the age of 55, and after decades of obesity, my body had lost its ability to buffer any further insults. It had lost its functional reserve to the point where organs were starting to fail and show the clinical effects of longstanding food abuse. The only option open was bariatric surgery. Nothing else had worked and I thought nothing else was available or would work. I had reached rock bottom. Some would say that it was serendipity that I heard about FA while driving home. For me it was nothing less than a miracle, because the week before I found FA, I was on my knees crying and praying to God to give... Continue Reading
I went to high school in the early 70s, when beauty was defined by how blonde and long your hair was, how deep your tan was, and how thin you were in your little bikini. It was a time when the dieting industry had not taken off yet, so there were not too many options for diets. I just remember being on a diet of a boiled white oval protein and large yellow fruit. I remember those little white pills that were really “speed,” that were all over campus. So I did what was, to me, the most successful diet: “The Don’t Eat Diet.” I felt really successful when I could go for long periods without eating. My best effort was five days with no food! I was so proud of myself for having all that control. In those early years, I didn’t see the harm I was doing to... Continue Reading
I was always the big girl with a pretty face. When I was eight years old, I knew I was a freak. One day the whole student body had to go out to the schoolyard to be weighed. As the children were weighed, the teacher called out their numbers. When my turn came, I weighed 124 pounds; the other kids in my class weighed about 70 pounds. I was so hurt by the remarks I heard. I knew that if only I could be smaller, everyone (including me) would be happy. From that day on, I was on and off some diet. No matter what I did, it never lasted. I was next to the youngest of four kids. I had two older brothers and one younger brother. I tried to be just one of the boys. My mom always tried to get me to be a little lady. My... Continue Reading
I always resented being fat. I never fully accepted responsibility for what I put in my mouth and how it showed up on my body. All my life I had been told that I was “statuesque,” “big-boned,” and had “child-bearing hips.” My mother was overweight, and so was her mother, and I was told that heavy women run in our family. It really didn’t seem to me as though I could do anything about my weight. So I ate to numb the pain of the rough hand life had dealt me. At age 55, standing 5’7” tall and weighing around 270 pounds, I really resented the doctor telling me I was morbidly obese, that the knee replacement surgery I had hoped for to cure my arthritis could not be done unless I lost some weight, that I was pre-diabetic, and probably had sleep apnea. I also suffered from a litany... Continue Reading
Ten years ago, I reached a point where I almost gave up ever being able to control my weight. I had struggled with various diets for more than 50 years. I was about ready to say to hell with it and eat what I wanted, when I wanted it. If it killed me, so be it. (My doctor had assured me that it would kill me if I continued on the path I was on.) I had become so nasty, mean, and ugly that I couldn’t stand myself. I was continually angry with myself for failing the diet plans that I had started almost every Monday morning of my life. I was on many prescriptions, which only exacerbated my “don’t give a damn” outlook on life. I had dieted and exercised my way up to 452 pounds. My nephew, who was a surgeon in the Air Force, came home from Germany, took one look at me, and suggested that... Continue Reading
