Here’s a typical exchange when I meet people and the subject of weight comes up:

Me: I used to be fat.

Them: Yeah, right.

Me: No. Really. I was huge.

Them: Oh, whatever. You’re not fat.

Me: *takes out iPhone and shows them a picture*

Them: Oh. Yeah, you were.

Me: See? I told you.

Then they start with the slew of questions. How did you do it? How long did it take? Did you ever try South Beach? Did you swallow a tape worm? But the answer is never simple, and I usually leave out some parts for brevity’s sake. So, I thought I’d give everyone the whole story here on this nifty little soap box I’ve built for myself. How convenient. So, how did I get from there to here?

The build up:

It all starts with a boy. Naturally. My senior year of high school, I had this boyfriend. I, of course, wanted to spend every waking moment with him, so I quit all my extra curriculars and spent all my time with him. Of course, there’s more to the story than that…mostly it was that whole senioritis thing. I had it bad. I sustained myself on pizza and Cheetos just like I’d been doing before that. I was never a thin girl, and had a natural tendency to put on weight, so by quitting everything that was keeping me active (I was an athletic trainer and I rode horses) I started gaining weight pretty quickly. By prom, I had gained about twenty pounds. This amazing boyfriend turned out to be my amazing husband, so of course, it was all worth it. The same life-style continued through college and dining halls and pizza at 1 a.m. and half a case of beer per night (What? You never did that?). I was blissfully unaware that I was gaining about thirty pounds a semester. Yes, I said semester. I got fatter and fatter until I walked down the aisle in a size 24 wedding dress.

In August of 2005, my friend Elizabeth asked me to be her bridesmaid. I was thrilled to do it for her, as she was one of my best friends (and still is to this day. Shout out to Liz!) The wedding was a blast, and my friends, being as wonderful as they are, told me I looked beautiful in my dress. I didn’t exactly feel beautiful, but I was good at faking it. A few weeks later, we were sitting around in her parent’s living room, watching the video of the ceremony. I leaned in closer to the TV, trying to figure out, Who is that fat girl waddling down the aisle? Yes, waddling. I didn’t even recognize myself. The next day I called 24 hour fitness and got myself a personal trainer. A big dude named Todd who used to be a football player. He was nice and helpful, and I lost a few pounds, but with over 100 to lose, I was feeling discouraged. Then I hurt my knee and gained it all back. A few try/fail attempts at other diets were made…nothing stuck.

The start of something new:

After a three-hour long breakdown on the bathroom floor (which may or may not have involved me being slightly intoxicated), I decided to call and get more information on weight loss surgery. I went to a seminar and met the doctor and left feeling empowered. I decided that I wanted to get the Lap-Band. My insurance didn’t cover it, so we took out a loan, and made a very expensive investment into my future. I told my close friends and family about it, but it’s not the kind of thing you go around advertising. I also think I was ashamed that I had let myself get big enough to need the surgery in the first place. It’s still not information I give out upon first meeting someone (Hi, I‘m Sharon. I have a Lap-Band – not exactly small talk), but I figured if I was going to write about my journey, I needed to get over that trepidation. Also, things like that tend to define you, and I didn’t want to be known as The Lap-Band Girl.

At first, the Lap-band was like a miracle. I lost about 50 pounds over the next six months. I wasn’t really watching what I was eating, except for sticking to the teeny portions that my stomach could handle (not the case anymore, six years later), and I was not exercising at all. I thought it was a dream come true. Finally, an easy way to lose weight…right? *Just a disclaimer about the Lap-Band: I don’t want to seem like I’m endorsing or promoting. It was a decision that took me a long time to make, and sometimes, even though it helped me, I’m still not sure if it was the right one. It’s only a tool for you to use, not a cure. More on that later.*

Hiccup:

Then we decided to have a baby. My pregnancy with my first child was fine for the most part, other than being sick all the time, but that’s normal. Right? I gained the usual twenty-five pounds, gave birth, and then promptly lost that twenty-five pounds. I went back to the clinic to have my band re-tightened and expected the rest of the weight to come pouring off. I waited, and waited. I waited for seven months, and lost no weight. What happened to my miracle cure? That’s when I decided to take it into my own hands.

A new era:

I got my fat ass up and went to Jazzercise. It was actually fun. Before I knew it, I was hooked. I, the girl who used to eat everything in sight, was now a fitness junkie. I practically lived there. Then I started working there. That place changed my life. I can’t say enough about it, so to make myself shut-up, I’ll just say this: If you’re still looking for a fitness program, give it a try.

The next thing I did was take control of my eating habits. I read this book and followed its teachings like a bible, and I used Weight Watchers online to meticulously track all of the food I ate. I lost 85 pounds over a year doing this.

Another Hiccup:

What better time to have another baby than when I’m finally at my goal weight? This pregnancy went a millions times better than the first. I felt good this time (you know, besides that whole constant aches and pains thing). I felt good enough to eat my weight in food everyday. I gained a bunch of weight with that little booger (70 pounds!! But, who’s counting?) and had to do it all over again.

It took me a good year to lose my weight from #2, but I did it! And check out this amazing man standing by my side the entire time! I couldn’t have done it without him! (Shout out to my hubby! Love you!)

See, not such a simple story, is it? But, then again, whose is? I wish this was the part where I could say THE END, but, alas, it is not. Keeping weight off is almost as much of a struggle as losing it in the first place, and it turns out that I wasn’t so awesome at it. Now, I’m busy trying to lose the 20 pounds I’ve put back on since that beautiful picture was taken. More on that here.

This experience has shaped me so much, that when I sat down to write a novel, it all came pouring out of me. No end to this story…just a guarantee that I’ll still be writing it for the rest of my life, while I try to make the healthiest choices I can. Within limits, of course. You can pry the ice cream out of my cold, dead hands bitches!