I weighed 325lbs and never once thought I was unattractive. In fact, I thought I was hot. Smoking hot. Curvy, thick, and juicy. If you tried to tell me otherwise I would have laughed in your face. My confidence attracted people. I had boyfriends and heart breaks. People either hated me or loved me, but either way I still always had plans to go out. I was sociable, outgoing, and outrageously funny. I loved my body. I was beyond flirtatious, confident, sexy and well spoken. I didn’t care what anyone thought. (Perhaps a little too much.) I was in plays, musical theatre, opera. I had no fears or limits. I never thought about food. I had played soccer for 12 years and never really paid attention. I was chubbier than the other girls, but by no stretch was it worrisome. All the activity burned off what I ate. Well, I quit playing soccer and kept eating what I wanted, when I wanted. I was slowly killing herself. I met a boy and fell madly in love with him and married him. I wanted a family. I wanted to be healthy for my future. So, I decided to change. I distanced the space and became a different person. I turned into a bully. I said mean, nasty things to the fat girl. I called her names and starved her. I forced her to spend countless hours in the gym doing insane things. I hated the fat girl. I went from 325lbs to 202lbs over the course of several failed, fad diets. Over the course of countless hours in the gym, many skipped events so I could control my food, and too many fights over my obsession with food and exercise between me and all of my loved ones. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I can remember taking these pictures and being totally grossed out with myself. Thinking these would be my new “before” pictures. That I’d never show anyone because they are so disgusting. The top left is at 208lbs – I took this pic and sent it to my husband and best friend to ask them if it was too short for me…wtf? The bottom left is at about 215’ish and the right is at 202lbs. It’s funny. While I knew I was an athlete, I thought I was unhealthy. I thought I would never be healthy until I hit my goal weight. I thought a number defined my health, defined my joy, defined my life. Well…then life happened. Shit happens. Really fucked up shit happens. And you have zero control over it. How you handle it is what truly matters. What you learn and take away from it. Unfortunately, I spiraled out of control. I ate everything I forbade myself from for all that time and dried my tears with bourbon. I had a bully on one shoulder and a victim on the other. I lost my “survivor” mentality and just told myself to just keep swimming. I never realized how intertwined my weight loss and miscarriage have been until last weekend while Kevin and I were talking. The whole reason I started this journey was so I could have kids. I guess the miscarriage made it all feel so pointless, when in reality, I’ve learned so much about myself from my loss and regain. I know I haven’t been me since the miscarriage and everyone in my life can tell. Everyone has commented on it. I’ve been told that I’ve been living in a “pre miscarriage” and “post miscarriage” world since it happened. It’s was the truth. Everything is in terms of that. “Before the miscarriage I had lost 125lbs.” “Before the miscarriage I was faster; I was a better athlete.” “Before the miscarriage I had control over my eating.” I refuse to live like that anymore. It’s destroying my world and my relationships. It’s impossible to move on with it constantly looming in my head. Hell, I’m certain all of you are like, “Shut the fuck up about it already, woman.” But here’s the thing, in this horrible, fucked up turn of events I’m finding the space between us. Between the 325lb, 202lb and 245lb version of me. I’d gotten up to 245lbs again. This time last year I weighed 205lbs. An extremely tough pill to swallow. I have committed to truly healthy lifestyle choices that I can keep forever this time. I have been going to the gym 5-6 days a week for 2 weeks now. I have not been solely a cardio queen this time and I have placed equal emphasis on heavy lifting. I am making healthy, non restricted 80/20 food choices. I’m trying to keep my drinking to the weekends. I’ve lost 5 pounds in two weeks. I am trying to remember slow and steady. I am trying to find beauty in my curves and a new-found appreciation for the body I currently have, not the body I once had, or the body I want. Though looking back at the 202lb picture while in a 239lb body, DAMN! I looked good. I’m so sad I never had the confidence to back it up. I never realized how close I was to my goal. Perhaps now, as I take this weight off for the final time, I will appreciate the journey and not the destination.