Little Actions Yield Big Results

“I think you have an eating disorder,” Chrissy said. I was in college and desperate to lose weight. I had invited several friends over for lunch. Chrissy and I were standing in my kitchen by my fridge. I had carefully taped swimsuit models from a J Crew catalogue on my refrigerator door. I had put them there to remind myself why I was dieting. It was a motivational strategy. I figured if I saw the beautiful women every time I went to the fridge, I’d eat less. I wanted to be skinny so I could have women like that. 

“Nah, it’s just motivational,” I said. Besides, guys can’t have eating disorders.

I was wrong, very wrong. Guys can have eating disorders, and in hindsight I definitely had one. 

I assumed the only way a beautiful woman would be interested in me was if I was thin, and the only way I would be thin was if I starved myself. I skipped meals, I drank SlimFast, I ate nothing but raw vegetables, and I hated it. I hated my body, and myself.

I think we’ve all been there. Trying to change ourselves, because we think we have to, so that other people will love, or approve of us.

The only person’s approval you need is your own. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. The only reason to lose weight is because you want to. 

Are you reading this because you want to change? Or are you reading this because you think other people want you to change? 

Think about these questions for a minute. It’s as important to know why you are trying to lose weight, as how to do it. In my experience, it makes all the difference between success and failure.

One of my favorite lines from Shakespeare is this: Above all: to thine own self be true. I thought I understood this when I read Hamlet in high school, but like how I thought I understood eating disorders, I was wrong.

Know thyself isn’t just a Shakespearian idea, it may be a universal truth. It was written above the entrance to the oracle of Delphi. It’s the key to any change you hope to make. 

So, how did you answer the questions. Are you wanting to change because you want to change? If you know the answer is yes, then you are ready.

You need to understand change happens slowly. If you are extremely over weight, morbidly obese like I was, there isn’t a quick fix. You didn’t become morbidly obese over night. It took a long time, maybe months or maybe years. You can’t undo it quickly, and you don’t want to. 

Quick fixes may seem great at the time. Using just about any fad diet you can lose weight. Pushing yourself on crazy workouts you can lose weight. But in both those cases most people can’t keep the weight off. Most people eventually gain all the quick-weight-loss weight back and more. Why?

It’s simple: if you restrict yourself, cut calories, or push your body in extreme ways, eventually you quit. If all you do is look at your body as a machine and do simple calorie in and calorie out math you will lose weight, but you miss the biggest part of the equation. That part is you. 

Your body isn’t simply a machine that you can tune up by cutting calories or massively working out. Your body is part of you. There is a connection between your body and your mind. Your thoughts, and what you focus on, shape your body as much as any diet or workout ever has.

Don’t misunderstand me: what you eat and how you exercise affect your body, but what you think affects it even more. You need to believe a few things about yourself to be successful in changing your body. You won’t believe them at first. If you believed them already, you wouldn’t be reading this. With a little bit of effort, you will believe them.

You can change your habits.

You can change your body.

Eating healthy is easy.

Exercise is easy.

You can do this.

I know they seem simple, but you’ll surprise yourself at how powerful they are. I know I did.

Stepping on The Scale

Eventually these health post will go in the health section, but for right now they’re here. Why is a writer starting their writer’s site with health post? Its easy, until I figured out the relationship between my mind and body I couldn’t figure out how to write, or fully live for that matter. Here goes the first post:

I stepped on the scale. It had been nine months since I started my journey, and I was in uncharted territory. The scale read two hundred thirty nine pounds. I almost cried. I texted my best friend. For most people, two hundred thirty nine pounds would make them cry tears of desperation. For me, it was sheer joy. It gave me a level of confidence I hadn’t experienced since I was a kid.


A few years earlier, I stepped on the scale at my doctor’s office: three sixty five. I quit stepping on the scale after than, even refusing at the doctor’s office. I was in bad shape; my heart would periodically race. I wound up in the emergency room to stop it. Every time I checked my blood pressure it was high. I was always tired. I was depressed.


Even though I refused to step on the scale my pants kept getting tighter. Everything kept getting worse. I decided to change. I had to change.


I’ve been overweight since I was five years old. My parents stocked up on Ding Dongs and I found them in the freezer. In a matter of one winter, I went from being the skinny kid in kindergarten to being the fat kid. My parents did what they could. Tried to restrict my food. Tried to get rid of junk food. Tried to tell me about diets. They tried to help, to tell me to lose weight.
I was overweight, but I was healthy. I was an active kid: swam, played soccer, hiked. I was always active. I just ate too much, and as I gained weight, I ate more.


Growing up fat meant I was the butt of almost every joke. I had man boobs before the girls in my grade got theirs. Although I didn’t realize it until recently, I learned to be ashamed of my body. Between the kids’ jokes, and well-meaning parents talking about dieting, I became ashamed of my body.


When I stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office I was in my late thirties. I had spent over thirty years being ashamed of my body, being ashamed of who I was. When I stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office, I almost gave up. As my pants started getting tighter and I realized I wasn’t going to see my kids grow up — I changed.


I started walking, only a few blocks at first, but I started walking every day. I got up, fed my kids breakfast, took them to school, and then went for a walk. We were living in the Rockies and it was November. It was cold, but I walked. It snowed, and I walked. The schools closed because of the snow and ice, and I walked.
Eventually, I worked up to three miles a day every day. It took several months, but I got there. My weight went from what I suspect was three eighty to two ninety five.


Then we moved and I started a new job, and the walking stopped. Some of the weight returned. I kept my weight between three hundred and three hundred twenty for several years. I felt good, but I still wasn’t there yet. I tried dieting, I tried different workout programs, but nothing stuck until this year. It’s been nine months since my change. The last time I weighed in, I weighed two hundred thirty seven pounds. I’ve lost sixty three pounds in nine months and I’ve learned to accept my body. I’ve learned to not let other people judge me. I’ve learned to wear tank tops in public.
As silly as that sounds, wearing tank tops in public has been a revolutionary act for me. It’s hot where I live and tank tops are very comfortable. I’d wear them while working around the house or doing yard work, but every time I left the house, I’d change into a regular shirt. I thought I did this because of some fashion sense, or class.
After that weigh-in I remembered why I wore jackets, even in the summer in high school. I wore them to hide my man boobs. My T-shirts were always too tight and showed my body. I was terrified of what other people would think of my body. I knew what I thought.


At two thirty seven I am still overweight, but I am proud of my body. It’s mine and I refuse to let anyone fat shame, or to let me fat shame myself. I decided that day I would wear tank tops in public when it’s hot. The first time I felt like I was in a naked dream, you know the one where you’re giving a speech or something and you realize you don’t have any clothes on. As I walked through the store I felt nude, vulnerable. I wasn’t hiding my body. Everyone could see my body. At first I feared what the other shoppers would think. Then I started to remember all of the times someone made me feel bad about my body, then I didn’t care. I was comfortable and I looked good. Sure, I’m technically overweight, but so are most people. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I feel good and I understand myself. That’s worth more than anyone else’s opinion.


After a lifetime of struggling with my weight and self image, I was finally free.


If you’re reading this, I assume you can relate. Maybe you haven’t been overweight most of your life, like me, or maybe you have. It doesn’t matter. We are taught, from a young age, what beauty is, and almost none of us live up to that image. You don’t have to, but you do want to be healthy, both mentally and physically. You do want to get control of yourself and your body. You wouldn’t be reading this if you weren’t ready for change.


If you want to change, this might will help you. I will share my experiences with you and help you find your own path. Despite what I thought I knew, weight loss and getting healthy isn’t hard, and it isn’t expensive. It’s about you deciding to change. It’s about you understanding that real change happens slowly. It’s about you learning about yourself, and your body