If I continued my current course of self-destruction, I was going to die by the time I was 40. This wasn’t so much a hypothesis. Both my uncle and my father died of massive heart attacks in their 40’s (my father was later literally brought back to life, my uncle wasn’t so lucky.) So you see, it runs in the family. If I wanted to do better by said family, something had to give.
I joined a free program for recording every bite I eat as well as my exercise. I made it a goal to exercise five days a week, if not more. I picked up running again. There were mostly good days, and some bad days. Heck, there were bad weeks. But I’ve always managed to get back on track, even though I may have had to lose the same two pounds five or six times.
Since that faithful day of December 24, 2012, I have lost 45 pounds and about 16 inches off of my waist. My cholesterol, which was so dangerously high my doctor thought I might have a stroke (at 28 years old!) is now well within normal range. I can wear clothes off of the rack. I can run up to six miles a day, and I run four days a week while walking the other three. A few months ago I could do only three or four modified pushups, and now I can do over 40 “real” pushups without stopping.
My first goal weight of 160 pounds is right around the corner. From there, I’ll see where I want to go. I am not at my goal yet and I’m not perfect (nor do I strive to be.) I know there are always going to be days or weeks when I won’t stay on track. I have an impulse control disorder, and that effects my eating (and drinking). But I’m a far better me than I ever used to be, and my daughter couldn’t be more proud.
Am I still a glutton? Some days and weeks, yes I am. But those moments are more few and far between than ever before, and for now, I’m content with that.