Determined To Succeed

Day ninety-three.

I can’t begin to tell you all the times Bill Ivory Larson wakes up on a given morning NOT feeling like doing something that particular day. Going to the store. Cleaning the house. Making a phone call to a creditor or business. Putting my nice warm and toasty feet on the cold, hard floor. It doesn’t matter. From time to time all of us face that point where we have to do something that we don’t want to do but have to do anyway.

Take for example working out, which for me has been more mental than anything lately. It’s not that I hate going to the gym. In fact, I love going and love sweating my ass off when I’m there. Sometimes, though, it’s purely because I HAVE TO GO that makes me not WANT to go. Know what I mean? It’s that I wish I didn’t HAVE to do it all the time. I wish I was one of those people who could (seemingly) eat whatever they want and not gain an ounce AND look like they just stepped out of a fashion magazine ad. But noooooooooo! I HAVE to go workout if I am going to merely keep my weight down. Bah! Bah, I say! The same goes for eating more nutritious foods, eating right and exercising portion control.

I know I should have a better mental attitude sometimes about weight loss. I absolutely do but I am human. But the thing that makes me know this is a story my sensei, Doug Shaffer, told me last week.

Doug told me the story of a kid he knew (you know a story will never end well when the words “kid” and “knew” crop up. Very foreboding, indeed) who was onloy twenty-one years old and died from an asthma attack. Poor guy. Went to a party, got plastered, went back to his place and zonked out. Somehow, he started having an attack and couldn’t get to his medicine (or was passed out while it was happening) and he died. he was found the next day by his girlfriend.

Just twenty-one, and with so much life ahead of him.

The reason I tell you that story today (and tell myself that story) is that we cannot sit on our butts and wait to feel like we WANT to do something. If there is something we have to do we should just go do it, for the love of God, and get it out of the way. I know I have never in my life been good at doing that because I was afraid of hurting someone’s feelings (that they wouldn’t like me anymore), or that there would be repercussions (like at my former job where you would just not want to open your mouth out of dread and a constant fear of being fired for daring to speak out). If we wait, if I wait, to do do something for when I WANT to do it I might be waiting a long time. Worse, I will be wasting time in the process, and I have wasted too much time on addictions to waste anymore of it on silly things that are only in my head.

Next month, I am going to celebrate being 40 years old and in the coming weeks I will tell you how I plan to celebrate my birthday all year long. But in the meantime I’m just going to think about how I lived almost 19 years longer than a kid who died simply because he couldn’t take a breath. I know exactly how that feels. I, too, had asthma so bad I couldn’t breathe at times. Hell, it even made me pass out once. I’ve lived 19 years longer and that means I SHOULD do something with that and because of that. That is purpose. That is drive. That is will.

I will because I must make the most of each and every day. No. Matter. What.

My friends, if there is something you don’t want to do today but know that you have to keep two things in mind. One, that you are not alone. There are so many others facing similar feelings about their own situations. Two, once you get it over with you will feel so much better and can move on to the things you WANT to do (and yes, that does include eating what you should and exercising to keep weight in check). That is what I will do today. Do the things I need to do to make the time to do what I want to do.

In honor of that kid who didn’t make it to see 22.

In honor of my mom, JoAnn Larson, so I do not disappoint her.

Most of all, for myself so I can be the man I’ve always wanted to be and now strive for every day. One of which my mom can be proud and I can say did the hard things even if he didn’t want to so that he, and those closest to him, could be happy in the long run.

Day seventy-five.

Today is Friday and I am juiced about having a healthy weekend. I know I am usually in a twist because it is the weekend and I typically fall off the wagon a bit but this weekend is a bit unique for two reasons: one, I have begun helping motivate two close friends in their own weight loss and two, because of a photo I found of me from 11 years ago.

Let’s start with the photo.

11 years ago (1999) I had the wonderful opportunity to tour some of Europe. I visited (and please excuse the spellings) Interlacken, Switzerland, Oberammagau, Germany, Salzburg, Germany, Vienna, Austria…some pretty nifty places. I remember being so enthralled with being where I was – so far from home but loving every minute – I never once thought about what I ate or how much I ate (especially wiener schnitzel – I think that’s how you spell it). Anyway, I was going through those old photos yesterday when I came across some of me, one in particular, that made me go “wow.”

You’ve heard me talk many, many times about the photo of me in the shark tunnel at the aquarium. Well, the photos I found of me were from 1999 and I was huge! It made me remember the reason I originally grew my beard – to try to hid my growing double chin and face flab. I saw what I was wearing and remembered how excited I was to find clothes in a size 4XL at the time (which within another 5 years would be a 5XL). I instantly remembered what I ate and drank and did and how it led me to that point (even lower). I shook my head slowly and slowly placed the photo on the counter.

That photo reminded me to think about how far I’ve come. Yes, I do need to re-lose some weight but I am well-within parameters of my goal weight, can still fit in my smaller clothes and have way more energy than I ever did. I am even going to my mixed martial arts class today to kick ass, something back then I never thought I could do.

As for the two friends, all I can say is how honored I am that they’ve asked me to help motivate them to get up and be moving. I have known one for over 22 years and the other I’ve known for about three but never really hung out before recently. In my separate discussions with them both we’ve discussed how human I can be, that I have ups and downs, etc. but that I will do my best to encourage and be supportive (and that good kick in the pants they need). As the long-time friend said, “I need a way to hold myself accountable and have someone help get me up off my couch.” Hell, ain’t that the truth?! I need that, too, and both will be that for me.

That is why I am so jazzed to start this weekend. I know I am going to start it right. For breakfast I had my reduced fat blueberry muffin and coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts and for a snack I had a yogurt. Tasty. I know I am also going to be active this weekend because I do martial arts tomorrow, too. Bring it on, I say. Bring it on! Because if a picture is worth a thousand words I seriously want those words to be of the successes in my life, not the failures. I want them to be of the future, not the past…

…and I want them to reflect the new, healthier and better Bill Ivory Larson. Not the sick, confused one. That is the guy in the photo and that is the person I never want to see again except in photos. To remind me of where I’ve been so that I am on track to get where I’m going.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

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I’ve loved (LOVED) the movies ever since I was a kid. But this is old news to you guys. Regular readers to my blog KNOW how much I love, quote and sometimes breathe movies. And with it being summertime I am in my element – lots of shoot-em-up, blow-em-up and fight-em-up action in theaters to keep me (hopefully) entertained for the two-hour stretches I invest (as well as the $10-plus dollars I spend).

In 1984 the original “The Karate Kid” came out and every kid on my block was hooked, including yours truly. That, plus reruns of movies like “Enter The Dragon” and other then-current movies like “The Last Dragon,” “Bloodsport” and “Cyborg” had us all doing the “hey-ya” sound followed by some awkward-as-hell kick/punch move that was supposed to be lightning but instead looked like, well, a kid TRYING to do a very-uncoordinated martial arts move. The heroes of the day were Jean-Claude Van Damme (before he started taking lots of drugs), Steven Segal (before we knew how weird that guy turned out to be) and the immortal Bruce Lee. Oh yeah, and Ralph Macchio.  Yes, Ralph Macchio, who will forever be doing that goofy crane move to win the tournament, the adoration of his mentor, Mr. Miyagi (the awesome Pat Morita), the girl and the respect of his enemies at the end of “The Karate Kid.”

Why am I waxing nostalgic on “The Karate Kid?” Today, I am taking a step into a larger world and am beginning martial arts training as part of a newer overall fitness regimen. That’s right, me, Bill Ivory Larson, is heading out to Lansdale, PA to begin martial arts training under the teachings of martial arts and self-defense expert Doug Shaffer. I met Doug (excuse me, Sensei) at a Tweet-up (a social media gathering of people who frequently use Twitter) and told him about my 175-pound weight loss and my journey so far. He asked me what kind of gym training I had had and I said “none really,” and he invited me to join him at his studio to begin working out using martial arts.

Whenever you lose a ton of weight, unless you are working out like a fiend every single day, you are going to have flab and skin issues. I am no exception. I have what I call “chicken arms,” flabby thighs and my tummy longs for the day it can have abs as ripped as Ryan Reynolds or Jason Statham. So part of why I am taking martial arts training is to do what I’ve always learned – change up my workouts to trick my body into burning more fat. I am also doing it to tone up those saggy bits and hopefully improve my overall fitness and health. My training will be two times a week (Wednesdays and Fridays) and will supplement the things I already do (cardio and weight training in my gym).

You know I have to say I am truly looking forward to this. I’ve never been afraid of a challenge – hell, I took scuba diving training and I was afraid of drowning – and this will certainly be one. One of the things I promised myself I’d do when I lost all that weight is do things I wasn’t ever able to do before. Being physical is one of them, whether it’s sports or activities. It doesn’t matter that I have less than half-a-year until I turn 40. Because I lost weight I feel like a new person who, knock on wood, has a new lease on life and will (hopefully) live a much longer and healthier one. And don’t worry, I will keep you all posted on how things go during my martial arts training. It will be interesting, to say the least, to see a guy whose greatest activity used to be sitting in a darkened movie theater watching movies like “The Karate Kid” actually learn to do this stuff.

It’s funny how life sometimes comes back around. We can see it every day with styles the kids are wearing (I can’t believe the long-haired look is back for boys), by the fact that 80s music is back and being embraced (only this time it’s retro) and by seeing old TV shows or movies like “The A-Team” or “The Karate Kid” remade into this summer’s blockbuster movies.  Well, while Jaden Smith learns Kung-Fu from Jackie Chan in this year’s remake (yes, it’s Kung-Fu not Karate but you don’t mess with cool movie name and franchise recognition) I will finally be living out a childhood movie fantasy of mine, too, while getting healthier and hopefully leaner in the process.

I just hope I don’t look as silly doing the crane move thing or learning “wax on, wax off.”

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Today is Sunday, May 9, 2010. It’s Mother’s Day and, as expected, I feel the emptiness and pain from missing my mom inside my gut, like the sickly dull pain aftershock of being kicked in the stomach. And while the pain has dulled since her passing on June 9, 2009 it has by no means, and will never, completely go away. And, quite frankly, I don’t want it to.

There are so many memories of my mother, JoAnn Larson, that I want to share with you guys but I feel weird being so morose and somber on a day when others are out and about celebrating their moms or celebrating being moms (like my best friend, Mike’s, wife Ewa who recently gave birth to their beautiful son, Thomas Michael). Happy Mother’s Day, guys.

So today should be filled with happy memories, or at least memories that make us laugh a little. It should celebrate life as my mom was so full of life. She was goofy, warm, personable (she never met a stranger – ever) and disarmed you instantly. And even when I thought she didn’t understand something she came out with such insight, knowledge and advice I was amazed – no, humbled – by her for she was also very, very wise.

When I was 16 years old I attended Kenwood Academy High School on Chicago’s South Side neighborhood of Hyde Park (go Broncos). My sophomore year was an unusual one because I, as we all are when we’re 16, felt a bit adrift and therefore floated between different circles of friends that year. On one particular Friday I was invited to a party thrown by the “cool” kids. Yes, me, Bill Ivory Larson, partying with the cool kids. I couldn’t believe it. Me, at a party with liquor, music and girls. A real party. I was so excited.

Now, before I continue I will go all tangential and admit I had a fake I.D. yes, yours truly had a fake I.D. that made me 22-years-old (I thought being slightly older than the bare-minimum 21 would be less conspicuous). I got it after seeing the fake I.D. of a school mate of mine, who told me exactly where to get this masterpiece of subterfuge, this ticket to pre-mature adult hood (O.K. basically to drinking). It cost all of $8 and about two hours of my time one day after school. But I was in, baby, or so I thought. This comes into play a bit later…

Back to the story. So Friday night rolled around and my mom, who was awesomely cool, let me go to this party because I was a fairly responsible kid. Admittedly it is different for boys than girls and yes, it was a different, seemingly less dangerous time where kids could run around a bit more in an age of no cell phones, etc. No matter what, though, she trusted me to be good and not get into any trouble, at least any of the “call the police” variety.

The party was jumpin’. The House Music (slightly different than the House Music played in clubs today) was being spun by my friend, Dave, whose house we were using. His trusting but gullible parents let him “have a few friends over,” although that quickly turned into 20 or so people, all of whom were underage, and all of whom were drinking heavily…including yours truly.

As the night wore on we ran out of booze. So we all looked at each other to see who had the best shot of “scoring,” and that turned out to be me. I was pumped. Not only was I with the cool kids but I was now looked at as the savior of the party. The guy with the plan and the I.D. So a couple of people drove me to the liquor store (not the one my mom and I went to all the time for candy bars and Pepsi, but a different one) and I could feel my heart beat in my chest. “What if I get caught? Oh my God!” I was so scared but I screwed up my courage and walked into the liquor store on 51^st Street to peruse the aisles for enough hooch to keep us going all night.

I got a fifth of Old Granddad (yes, that nasty-ass Old Granddad), Jack Daniels and a few other things, including another 24-case of beer (as long as it wasn’t Coors – a house rule of Dave’s), and walked up to the counter. I felt sure the woman at the register was going to ask for my I.D., see right through it and call the long arm of the law. But she didn’t. I couldn’t believe it! She just rang me up. And even though I fully admit to looking much older than I was I was pissed because I DIDN’T get to use my shiny new fake I.D. But I don’t know what got me madder – not using the thing or being served alcohol and being a minor (something that still sort of troubles me today). Anywho, I got back to the party and drinking resumed and it carried on all night. At about 2:00 a.m. at least I think it was (I was so freaking drunk I couldn’t tell a two from a cat) I called my mom to say I was spending the night at Dave’s place. My mom was cool and thanked me for calling (I was always told to at least just check in and I did – her rules). And I crashed out by like 3:00 a.m. or so.

Saturday morning rolled around and I felt like shit. Real shit. My head was pounding so hard and I felt so sick to my stomach I wished I could have thrown up and died just to feel better. Yes, it was my first hangover and it was a doozey. Worse yet, I remembered I had to be at work in the children’s shoe store (my first job) by 9:00 a.m. that morning. There was no freaking way, I thought. As I bade my sleepy and still-drunken friends adieu I stumbled out of his place into the brisk morning air.

All the way home I was trying to puke. It would have made me feel better, as would a bullet to the head or being struck by lightning would have. I felt awful and I had no one to blame but myself. When I got home I told my mom I felt terrible (“sick” I actually think I said) and that I couldn’t go to work that day. But being the wise and wonderful mom she was she said “no, son. You are going to work today.”

And while my mom was cool, I knew she meant every word of it.

Needless to say I was a tad late getting there, which was sad given I literally lived around the corner from my job and began my day. I arrived at 10:00 a.m. and didn’t make it to noon. I was so hungover and I’m sure reeked of booze. I begged the forgiveness of my boss and went home to sleep it off.

Somehow my mom knew I wasn’t going to make it all day at work. When I got home she let me sleep, and sleep I did. I slept until like 5 or 6 that afternoon. When I woke up she looked at me not with anger but with a smile and said “betcha won’t do that again, will ya?” I smiled right back knowing instantly how much she knew I was messed up and in need of a lesson. I told her all about the party and she was so cool about it all. She looked at me after a while and asked me one simple question: “you know that’s why I made you go to work, right?” I nodded my head and laughed, and so did she. She also confessed to having a bit of a laugh at my expense over the whole thing wondering how long I was going to last at work (which, again, was not very long).

I never forgot that lesson. It was so important and special and cool and everything I needed at that time. It was a life lesson taught to me by a woman who was wise enough to know it was the only way I was going to learn the consequences of my actions, that I still had responsibilities to handle no matter how drunk I got. She taught me that people depended on me and I let them down because I was stupid. Oh, and let’s not forget she taught me I should never get that wasted the night before I have something to do the next day, a lesson I broke only one other time in my life and I was well into my 30s when I did. I’ll tell you about that sometime over a, er, drink.

When I look back at that story I smile because my mom knew going to work was all the punishment I needed to learn that life lesson. And she was right. It wasn’t the first nor the last time her pearls of wisdom were laid on me to teach me what I needed to know when I needed to know it. She was excellent that way. Excellent.

So for all you folks out there who still have your moms with you never take your mom’s words for granted. They and the lessons they teach us won’t be around forever and you’ll miss them deeply and terribly when they’re gone. And to all you moms out there, thank you. Thank you for teaching us kids what we need to know when we need to know it. It may not be what we want to know but it sure as hell is what we need to know.

On this Mother’s Day I will raise a glass (of something non-alcoholic) to my mom, JoAnn. I miss her voice, I miss her laugh, I miss her smile and I miss her words of wisdom. And even though I can’t pick up the phone and say “Happy Mother’s Day, Mama,” I hope she knows how much I love her and miss her and how much she’ll always be in my heart and always be my Mama.

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It’s sad, indeed, when you wake up in the morning and the first thing you think about is what you’re going to have for dinner. I think that way sometimes, though. It’s not that I’m purposely starving myself or anything (not that I couldn’t stand to miss a meal, as they say) it’s just that I’m trying to be good and look forward to a healthier meal instead of the prospect of eating junk or ordering out.

When I saw the personal trainer the other day he promised he’d give me a list of suggested foods and meals for me to follow, and those combined with my exercise should help me lose weight. Since I’ll try anything once I said “O.K. lay it on me.” So yesterday I opened up my e-mail and there it was – a list of days with each day broken up into meals and what to have for each meal.

As I was looking over this list there wasn’t anything particularly peculiar about it. You know what I mean. The kind of peculiar that jumps up at ya’ and sends up a red flag and make you go “oh, c’mon! I’m not blending half an orange with grass from my front lawn with a dab of crushed red pepper for a ‘meal’ that’s supposed to fill me for the week.” Ok, maybe there was one thing – something called Metrix (a protein shake kind of thing) which I am replacing with yogurt. Other than that this list contained a good blend of carbs, fats and proteins broken down into meals and snacks that seemed to make sense. So I threw on my clothes and went shopping.

Don’t get me wrong. I have always eaten what I want, do eat what I want and will always eat what I want on my weight loss journey, but if I was going to try this personal trainer exercise routine I had to try his prescribed meal plan, too. So below, here is the plan I will be following (with a grain of salt, of course, and all puns intended) today:

Meal 1 Kashi Cereal or Special K (my preference is the Kashi “Warm Cinnamon” kind – very tasty)

Meal 2 Fruit (I bought strawberries, bananas, seedless oranges and clementines)

Meal 3 Chicken 6 oz., 1 cup rice, 3 cups broccoli

Meal 4 Metrix – Protein Shake (screw that. I’m having yogurt)

Meal 5 Chicken Cesar Salad, Sugar Free Jello with Cool Whip

So there it is. What Bill Ivory Larson is going to eat today. That, combined with my workout, should make me what John Candy was in “Stripes…” a lean, mean, fighting machine.” Well, theoretically, that is. Also, last night I made my lemon chicken recipe again and it was darn tasty. I added in some green pepper and fresh garlic this time for a little different flavor and made three portions so I could have one today for lunch and have another for dinner on the salad (or by itself).

Tomorrow I see the trainer, Jorge, for a second time for what he says will be a workout designed to work different muscles than we did the other day. While I am not in too much pain I certainly still feel Tuesday in my abs and shoulders. I will get to tell him I followed his meal plan and he’s supposed to explain to me other meal/food options, too (which of course I will share with you and hopefully new visitors through Technorati – 95FDGWY5MY9P).

So, I am ready to start my day. I’ve got my cup of Kashi Cereal in hand (which really is very good. I’m not blowing smoke about that) and am ready to learn some new eating tricks today. Hopefully it will help. These last remaining twelve pounds are really starting to annoy the crap out of me.

You know something? Watching the Olympics sometimes pisses me off.

Why do you ask? Because I see them all thin and stuff, particularly Michael Phelps, and know they eat like monsters (some of them) while I eat the equivalent of a bean and I gain weight. Grrrr.

When he’s training Phelps eats a whopping 12,000 calories per day. PER DAY!!! Ok, OK. I know he wins gold medals and swims for like 12 hours but still. I eat a spoonful of mashed potatoes and it’s off to the gym for an hour to work it off.

So I think soon I’m gonna do the Rocky IV training montage so I can be in the next Winter Olympics, doing the one sport I know I can probably do…curling. Yeppers. You heard me. Bill Ivory Larson, curler. Or hurler. Or whatever you call ‘em. I’m gonna go out for it.I mean how hard could it be to basically do shuffleboard and bring home the gold?

Harder than you think.

A few years ago, when I was 400 pounds, I went to an open house at the Philadelphia Curling Club who holds open houses for people interested in being introduced to the sport of curling. It was mobbed but I finally had a chance to get my curl on and get on the ice and hurl a stone and sweep. Back then I thought it was the one sport fat people like me could do and still bring home an Olympic medal. But I was challenged, both physically and by the sport.

It ain’t easy bein’ cheesy sometimes, and it also ain’t easy having your body do the correct stance for delivering the stones. I may be nimble but it takes a lot to have the coodination necessary to accurately deliver a stone with the precision necessary to get close to the house (sorry, had to use correct curling terminology). Get the stone closed to the bullseye. It also takes tons of coordination to sweep which influences the stones direction and speed once delivered.

After that few minutes on the ice way back then I realized I needed continuing to lose weight. Not just because I had to if I ever wanted to seriously curl but for my health and longevity. And while curlers may not ever train or eat the way gold-medalist Michael Phelps does they do train hard to throw those hammers to win the gold. It ain’t as easy as it looks. If it were, fat asses like mine would do it.

But the Olympics are not about eating they are about sport. And while my dreams of eating what Michael Phelps eats and not gain weight are seriously put on hold, my dreams are not. Phelps works his ass off each and every day training and deserves each and every one of those calories. And you see my gold medal will come by achieving the one thing I have worked on for years and years with exercise, a healthier diet and determination…

…my gold medal goal weight.

Good morning my friends. Whether you’ve been along for the ride since I began this blog or have just joined in I welcome you and want you to know you now have a place to relax, vent, cry, laugh, learn from and most of all share. We are all in this weight loss journey together and I am so proud to begin knowing each and every one of you.

Being on the Dr. Oz Show was an amazing experience and he asked me personally to blog for him and become a Wellness Warrior. That makes me both happy and proud. I hope I do a good job.

And thanks to the Dr. Oz Show and a subsequent appearance on FOX 5 News out of New York yesterday I have heard from so many wonderful people about their weight loss stories and there have been a few in just the one day since that have touched my heart. None more so than my new friend, Kelle, who talked about her fiancee, Fernando, and his untimely death due to complications from gastric bypass surgery.

Kelle lost her fiancée, Fernando, in 2008 from complications due to gastric bypass surgery. He weighed 411 when they found out they were expecting their son. Growing up an obese child he decided it was time to make a lifestyle change. Fernando felt he had to do it for their son, so that he would be around for his little boy, be able to run after him in the park, and just be healthy for his son and Kelle. Fernando also decided to have the surgery because nothing had worked for him. He was diagnosed with Type-2 diabetes just 6 months prior to his death. He also went to a nutritionist, joined Weight Watchers, did sleep studies for his apnea but nothing worked. Unfortunately, the worst possible outcome happened and Fernando passed away at the age of 42.

Kelle’s son was 9-months-old when his father died and she wishes sometimes that he would have stayed the large man he was. “Although he was a big guy he had an even bigger heart,” Kelle said, “and when a life is lost and your laying there for your loved one to say your final good-byes it doesn’t matter what size you are.”

That is so true.

It is always hard for me to write about gastric bypass because, while I knew I would never have it for myself,  I know so many people who have had the surgery (or lap band surgery). I would also never be down on them for two reasons: because they are my friends and I love them and also because they made the decision to have their respective surgeries for themselves. They have gone on to lose weight and keep it off and be healthy and extend their lives because of it. For that, and their continued friendship, I am most grateful.

After reading Kelle’s letter I did some poking around this wonderful, new-fangled internet thingie and found out something very interesting. You type “gastric bypass mortality rate” into Google and you’ll get varying degrees of information and data, some of which is from the mid-2000s. I did however find one article from January 2010 which is interesting and does seem to go along with the other stats I found.

A study led by researchers at the University of Cincinnati concluded that while the benefits of gastric bypass surgery may far outweigh the health risks for most people who are morbidly obese (which is defined as having a body mass index of 40 or higher) the 30-day mortality from the surgery can range to as high as 2 percent in some studies . That means up to 1 in every 50 surgeries can result in complications and mortality.

I am so glad Kelle wrote me and told me her story. The first time I had ever heard of gastric bypass was because of my old boss’s friend. He was 400 lbs and he unfortunately died from complications of the surgery much like Fernando. That was when I decided if I was ever going to lose weight it would not be through surgery and why I absolutely believe that people can do it naturally. 42 is way too young to lose a loved one especially when he is a father. But he did what he felt he had to do for Kelle and his new son and that amounts to only one thing – love.

I struggle every day with weight loss. I really do. It’s hard to say I am going to resist the foods I love because I’m scared. I’m scared I might go back to having them in the amounts I used to and, therefore, will go back to being the weight I was. I struggle every day with portion control and saying no to a food today so I can have it as a treat later. I really do want to continue my weight loss. It is a struggle every single day. I get up. I crave certain foods. I crave the foods that I know are bad for me. And I have to resist every single day and not give into them. That is what I want this blog to do. Tell people that with a little resistance (and most of all self-love) they can achieve their goals.

Weight loss is a story we can all share and understand. In the days and months and years to come I hope you guys continue to share your stories with me. Sorry today’s blog was so long. But this journey we’re on is a long one. But it’s one that you can now do with the company of friends and loved ones by your side.