As I stood at the front of the room looking at the crowd, I realized my toes really hurt. If you caught a glimpse of my three-inch heels, you might surmise they had caused the pain--but you'd be wrong.
Five hours earlier, I'd been running through the streets of Indianapolis in running shoes, wearing 13.1 miles worth of rubber off their soles as I completed a half-marathon. Five years earlier I'd weighed twice what I did now, 372 pounds, so heavy that I'd injured my knee while walking up the stairs.
And five minutes ago, I'd gotten up in front of a crowd of people who'd just bought my book. I read one of the chapters of the story that told how I got from here to there. I certainly had come a long way, and not just on the race course I'd traveled this morning.
If you'd asked me half a decade ago where I thought I would be in five years, I would never have guessed that I'd have finally lost the weight that had dogged me for most of my life. Nor would I have guessed that a room full of people would turn out to hear me read words I'd written on a page.
Was this really my life? Or was I dreaming after falling into a diabetic coma caused by eating too much frosting straight out of the can?
Frequently, writers of diet blogs refer to what they're going through as their "weight loss journey." The phrase is used so often that it's cliché. But clichés are only cliché's because they're true. As overused as the term is, I really have been on a journey these last few years, from a shy, fat girl who would have been terrified to stand in front of a room full of people, to a much thinner, still sort of shy girl, who was excited to meet new people while slurping spaghetti for lunch after a reading.
I'd crossed a finish line that morning in a victorious fashion, and my book release party seemed like a similar victory, the culmination of years of hard work. And while I do enjoy charging across the finish line, I think what I really enjoy is travelling towards that goal (at least when my lower abs aren't aching and my feet aren't sticking to the pavement after charging through a Gatorade station). It's all the obstacles I had to overcome that make crossing the finish line so special.
But it makes me want to find another finish line to run towards. Now that I've conquered the weight, I've been trying to figure out what my next journey will be. The past several years of my life have been focused on overcoming morbid obesity and adapting a healthy lifestyle so I don't gain back the weight. As I poked my meatballs, I wondered what would be next.
I don't know, just as I didn't know where I would be five years ago. I'm sure I'll be surprised, whereever I am.
You never know what shoes you'll be wearing five years from now. But in high heels or sneakers, I know I can handle it, wherever I'm traveling.
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Five hours earlier, I'd been running through the streets of Indianapolis in running shoes, wearing 13.1 miles worth of rubber off their soles as I completed a half-marathon. Five years earlier I'd weighed twice what I did now, 372 pounds, so heavy that I'd injured my knee while walking up the stairs.
And five minutes ago, I'd gotten up in front of a crowd of people who'd just bought my book. I read one of the chapters of the story that told how I got from here to there. I certainly had come a long way, and not just on the race course I'd traveled this morning.
If you'd asked me half a decade ago where I thought I would be in five years, I would never have guessed that I'd have finally lost the weight that had dogged me for most of my life. Nor would I have guessed that a room full of people would turn out to hear me read words I'd written on a page.
Was this really my life? Or was I dreaming after falling into a diabetic coma caused by eating too much frosting straight out of the can?
Frequently, writers of diet blogs refer to what they're going through as their "weight loss journey." The phrase is used so often that it's cliché. But clichés are only cliché's because they're true. As overused as the term is, I really have been on a journey these last few years, from a shy, fat girl who would have been terrified to stand in front of a room full of people, to a much thinner, still sort of shy girl, who was excited to meet new people while slurping spaghetti for lunch after a reading.
I'd crossed a finish line that morning in a victorious fashion, and my book release party seemed like a similar victory, the culmination of years of hard work. And while I do enjoy charging across the finish line, I think what I really enjoy is travelling towards that goal (at least when my lower abs aren't aching and my feet aren't sticking to the pavement after charging through a Gatorade station). It's all the obstacles I had to overcome that make crossing the finish line so special.
But it makes me want to find another finish line to run towards. Now that I've conquered the weight, I've been trying to figure out what my next journey will be. The past several years of my life have been focused on overcoming morbid obesity and adapting a healthy lifestyle so I don't gain back the weight. As I poked my meatballs, I wondered what would be next.
I don't know, just as I didn't know where I would be five years ago. I'm sure I'll be surprised, whereever I am.
You never know what shoes you'll be wearing five years from now. But in high heels or sneakers, I know I can handle it, wherever I'm traveling.
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Jennette Fulda was born weighing 8 pounds 5 ounces, but eventually tipped the scales at 372 pounds. She chronicles her journey to lose over 200 pounds without losing her sense of humor on the blog Half of Me. In February of 2007 she had a virtual party in her fat pants after losing half her weight. Her book, Half-Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir, is now available in stores everywhere!
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