I've always been a big guy. Even when I was a boy I was the "fat boy." I was taught to use food as a coping mechanism, and not howdy did I have some stuff to cope for. I was sexually abused by an older boy as well as my father, my younger brother died, my house burned down, and I was put into a mental hospital after a suicide attempt. All before 18.
After each trauma my weight would balloon. I knew I was killing myself, but I was so depressed that I welcomed death. Four years ago my mother died, and I gained the most I ever had. Ballooning up to 642 pounds. I went to the hospital thinking I was having a heart attack, and remember being so unbelievably shocked at that number. That's a fucking walrus, not a man. How did it get like this? I moped, whined, felt sorry for myself, and kept eating.
Then at the beginning of February something clicked on my brain. I'm only 30. I want to live to see my baby niece grow up. I want to travel, to fall in love, to see what the world has to offer outside of value meals and family packs. I started counting calories. Around 1500-1800 daily. I ONLY drink water with the extremely rare exception of hot tea. I avoid that as well because of the caffeine. I eat a ton of vegetables, salads, carrot sticks, yogurt with active cultures, and lean chicken meat. I have some sauces I use to mix things up, but my meals tend to be very basic and heavy on the vegetables.
I also knew that I had to start moving. I've been making sloths look like Usain Bolt for the past few years. Thing is, at my size it's really hard to move. That's an excuse. I'm not doing those any more. I bought a floor cycle, and am slowly building up time I spend on it daily. I use it with my arms for the same length of time as well. My goal is to have half an hour of cardio a day. I'm currently at 14 minutes.
It's only been about a month or so since I began my weight loss journey in earnest, but I have gone from 642 pounds to 605 pounds. I have an enormous stretch of road before me, and I know that I will make mistakes. But for the first time in forever, I have hope. I believe in myself, and I'm damn proud of the little progress I've already made. I see a weight loss specialist this coming Thursday who has had remarkable success with patients, and so I hope that together we can get me where I want to be.
This subreddit is so incredibly inspiring, and I hope you don't mind me popping in with updates, frustrations, and commiseration from time to time. Thank you for reading my wall of text. It means a lot to me.
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