The essay entry.

Here it is!

I never thought I’d get to this point. I’d had a vague idea in the back of my head, that eventually, someday, I’d need to lose weight. There was always something more pressing, something more important that took my attention. I was terrified of simple things. I constantly lived in fear that someone, somewhere would see me not fit into something that skinny people take for granted. An office chair, an airplane seat, a bench, the space between tables that you’re winding your way through, a bathroom stall…

I had a whole host of excuses. My bad knee, my weak ankle, my chronic fatigue. It was always something. But most of all, it was never me. It was always something beyond my control. Some type of physical limitation, some restriction imposed on me. It was never my fault.

But it was. I chose not to do anything about my weight. I kept waiting for the magical weight loss fairy to come and grant me my skinny wish. I was at my heaviest when I got the most exciting news, I was expecting. We hadn’t planned on it, my husband and I, but we were happy that there’d be a little one in our family. Those first few months were a whirlwind and I never once thought about being heavy. My first visit with my OB doctor changed all that. Suddenly, I was lost in a statistic. It was assumed that I was a bad and lazy person. No one believed that I could be overweight by a significant amount and have a healthy pregnancy or baby. I was lucky. Under all that fat, I was still healthy and the baby was, too. I’d dodged another bullet. So back under the rug it went and I busied myself with taking care of my son.

Then, it came. That one pivotal moment that changes you. My son was 18 months old and I was at a playground with him after day care. There were a few other children out, but none his age. I stayed close and watched him play with one or two of the older kids. From behind me I hear, “That lady is fat.” I whipped around and said, “And you’re rude.” The kid ran off and I thought it was the end of it. I was playing with my son on the swing and I hear two children start to chant, “fat lady, fat lady” over and over again. I turned my back to them, but it got louder as more children joined in. I was thoroughly humiliated. It was only after I started asking mothers who the children were, did the chanting stop. I had never felt so low in my life. As the children were trotted up to me to apologize, I realized that this is it. This is what has to change my life. I’m never going to get a wish from the weight loss fairy. I had to do it myself.

So I did. I started that night. I tracked every calorie. I was astounded at what I had been eating. Suddenly, having everything in front of me made me accountable for what went into my mouth. With little busts of exercise, like yoga and a recumbent bike, the weight started to come off. Little by little I saw the graph on my chart go down. And before I knew it, 6 months later, I weighed 50 pounds less. But I still have so much more to go. I want to be healthy. I want to be happy. I want to see my son grow up. I want my husband to pick me up and twirl me around. I want to race my husband, and win! I want to challenge myself. I promised myself I would never give up.