*Rocky theme plays in the background*
I've been fat pretty much all my life.
When I was about 8, I was the "cute chubby kid" because I had "baby fat"
Now it's 36 year old fat, and about to turn 37.
For the last 12 years, I've "experimented" with various weight loss plans, diets, exercise regimens, etc... My weight has fluctuated nearly 100 pounds in that time period.
The day I got on a scale (sometime in 1996) and saw that I was about 3 Twinkies from 400 (yes, FOUR HUNDRED) pounds, I knew ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH.
With the help of a nutritionist, I went from 395 to about 300 in just a few short months.
Job stress, my girlfriend's miscarriage, and other issues contributed to putting the weight back on.
About 6 years ago, I flirted with the idea of weight-loss surgery, but abandoned it for personal reasons (a story for another day)
3 years ago, on a whim, I joined a gym. For the first 2-3 months, I worked with a personal trainer, and even though I didn't go too much on my own when it wasn't time for my PT sessions, I did lose some weight, but did gain a lot of muscle. (My arms are fairly solid, considering my weight)....
Then.... I met "The Teacher". Somehow, she "fell in love" (note the quotes...we know the real deal) with the person I was inside, so of course, I pretty much stopped working out and taking care of myself.
Over the course of our relationship/engagement, I started overeating again. Being the vindictive and abusive woman she was, she used my weight as something to always attack me with.
I know in a relationship, it's normal for one partner to make comments like that about another in order to motivate them to improve, but she did nothing of the sort. All she did was hurt me. It was bad enough to feel awful about being overweight, but she made me feel like I was less than human. In one breathe, I was some fat a-hole, and in the next, I was her personal sex toy. It was a mixed message which didn't make sense, yet was very unhealthy for me emotionally.
Right after we broke up, I weighed myself. I was actually down a few pounds from my previous weighing (probably a year prior), but I fell into a deep depression and put the weight back on, once again.
That's about the time I found LoveShack.
2 weeks ago, I was joking around with a couple of my female co-workers who said they were going to help "Sexify" me.

They told me that I'm cute, but with some weight loss, I'd be hot.
When 2 twenty-something chicks tell you that, it makes you really want to at least give it a try.
Fortunately, I've never missed a payment on my gym membership, so after using Mapquest to figure out where it is again (haha), I started working out again. I can honestly say I've missed working out on a regular basis.
Prior to last week, I've been to the gym only a handful of times in the last year, but I've gone 3 times in the last week. I really did miss it!
One thing I have going for me is that despite the stereotype, I'm not a couch potato. Sure, I have my moments when a game is on, or if a cool new video game comes out, but I live a VERY active lifestyle, especially when it comes to my job.
Where I work, I'm on my feet anywhere from 6-12 hours at a time, pretty much running around the whole time, and mid-week, I do a LOT of heavy lifting (beer kegs, cases of wine, etc...). I do not sit around! I like to think of myself as an "athletic fat guy".
My main problem is that I eat the wrong foods. It's not even a matter of eating too much, I'm just weak when it comes to good food.

I'm spoiled. I work in a restaurant that has gotten 3 and 4 star reviews, and I eat for free. I even "pick" in the kitchen during the slow times.
I'm also quite a good cook in my own right, so I know how to make some awesome, though unhealthy dishes.
In my weight-loss pursuits, I've learned a little about healthy cooking, so I've always tried to substitute healthier ingredients whenever possible.. I don't use much oil any more (PAM cooking spray, etc...), a rarely add salt, if ever, and I eat a lot of "good carbs" (whole wheat breads, rice, etc...)
Now that I am in my late 30's, it's time to really get serious.....
.....(long pause while I contemplate writing what I'm thinking).....
When I was planning on having weight-loss surgery 5 years ago, I went through a lot of the required preliminary examinations. One of the specialists I visited, a pulmonary doctor (lungs/breathing/etc.) told me that one of my tests came back with a "slight problem".
Whether it was related to my weight or not he wasn't 100% (but he actually thought I may have had this problem since childhood), he did find that I have what appears to be a slightly defective lung. When I was about 10, a doctor told my family that I had a slight heart murmur, and being so young, it just sounded really scary, until they explained it's not a major deal.
THIS sounds like a major deal. My doctor sat me down and explained that my lungs don't process oxygen to the full extent they are supposed to, and that combined with being obese, I'm heading down the path to a possible stroke and/or heart attack.
He warned me that if I didn't have the surgery or at least lose a considerable amount of weight, he couldn't guarantee my continued health for more than another 5 years or so. He said that at my weight, I probably would NOT survive my first heart attack, and a stroke would almost certainly be fatal.
Somehow, I was able to let all of this go in one ear and out the other.
2 years ago (almost to the day!), when my ex left me and put me into my serious depression, it hit me that now I was alone again, and probably 2 years away from dying. And dying alone.
There aren't too many things I'm scared of in this world, but one of them is dying alone. But of course, being the eternal "child" that I am, I'm immortal, right? Nothing bad could EVER happen to me. I'm awesome and the rules of nature and medicine do NOT apply here.
Now it's 2008.
Over the last few months I've begun to feel my age and all my previous "health mistakes" are catching up to me. Part of this is from being overworked at my job... I suppose no matter how GOOD a shape you are in, working sometimes 60 hours on your feet in a week will make you feel this way, but I know it's more than that.
For the last 6 months, I've had chronic foot pain (again, attributed to being on my feet so much), but in the last few weeks, I've had constant pain in my right leg. At first I thought they were just leg cramps, but no matter how much time I spend in the hot tub at the gym, they don't go away. My left leg is perfectly fine, but I feel a heaviness in my right leg that I know is a LOT more than just a cramp.
It's a wake-up call. It's a warning.
In 2003, my lung doctor essentially gave me 5 years to clean up my act, so to speak, or face the inevitable.
Well, it's 2008, I'm still here, but now I really don't feel right, deep down inside. I don't know if it's in my head, or something more. Unfortunately, I can't attribute how I feel to "imagining things" anymore.
I really think my body is finally telling me something.
On a side note, I find it odd to post this story. In my entire time on LS, I've always been very open about my feelings, especially when I was going through some really dark times, but for some reason, I never felt it necessary to post my "medical issues". I always felt like I had enough things to deal with in my life, and this site is more about emotional support than medical. But now, my medical problems are beginning to effect me emotionally, so I decided it's time to just vent.
In fact, only ONE other person on LS knows about my "situation", and she's always been a big "cheerleader" for me, privately. I never thought this was something I wanted to post about, until recently.
So............
Last Monday, I got on the scale (for the first time in a long time), and grimaced. I'm still well below my previous high weight (working a physical job tends to keep some weight off no matter how little else you do in your life), but let's be serious here..... IT'S WAY TOO FU**ING MUCH.
I know how much I'm "supposed" to weight (according to accepted medical guidelines, I'm supposed to be 180, but that's ridiculous, as I have a large natural build)....
I'd be VERY happy at 225. In fact, I'd be ecstatic. If I were to wake up tomorrow and was 225, I'd squeeze my ass into a pair of Speedos and run through the streets, screaming.
But, the journey of a thousand miles (or pounds) begins with a single step (or a lot of them on a treadmill), so starting with my "weigh-in" last week, I'm back "in training".
I'm going to beat this. I swear.
I've put myself on a semi-strict workout plan (if I made it TOO strict, I'd never actually do it), and even though I've been a lot more careful with my diet the last couple of years, I'm going to tweak my eating habits slightly, such as giving up most sweets. I'd love to cut out all of the high-fat foods I like, but I've learned that if you try to give up EVERYTHING, you wind up giving up NOTHING, so I'll take the high-fat, high-protein foods I enjoy over the high-fat empty calories that are everyone's guilty pleasures. Besides, with a steady workout plan, you need the fat and protein intake so the body can constantly rebuild.
I can live without the chocolate and the ice cream.
Maybe.
Damn, it's been a long time since I've made one of my depressing, long winded posts on here. I thought those days were over. I figured I'd just do this in silence, and one day post a half-nude picture of my new "hot" self and everyone would go "Wow... what the hell did you do?!?!"... But nah...
I'm an attention whore, and I could use the support of my friends.
Just before I sat down to write this post, I weighed myself to see how I've done in the first full week of my new "attitude".
How did I do?
Why, I.......
-tp
...to be continued