Two Years Down, Forever to Go

On May 19, 2024, I started a journey that would change the trajectory of my life. It wasn't just another attempt to right the ship.

Two years later, I'm still here.

Thanks to the absence of the feeling as though I'm in Food Jail, I've been able to stay consistent without constant feelings of psychological torture. And now, with two years down, I have more confidence in the belief that I've truly changed my lifestyle. While I will stay on a GLP-1 medication until my health insurance tells me I can't be on one anymore, my body has taken on an entirely different composition -- one that, I hope, will understand hunger and fullness cues forever.

But that's not what Year Two was truly about. Of course, I'm still a Food Noise Fighter. And there are moments when I genuinely find myself scared of hunger because I want to make extra sure that it's not food noise. But I've evolved. And my focus this year evolved too -- into a focus on fitness.

Without weight loss, fitness would not have been possible for me. At close to 320 pounds, I could barely move my body. That said, I don't have to be stick-skinny to be healthy. What I want is to be fit. Yes, I do have a goal weight range in mind, but it's definitely not a weight that society at large would classify me as skinny when I reach it.

Weight loss has been much slower over Year Two. I've lost just shy of 30 pounds compared to the 68 that I lost in Year One. But, from the research I've done and based on what I've heard from those who have been where I am, that's not unusual. The commercials for Wegovy and Zepbound tout 30-lb weight loss. 45 pounds if you're lucky. I've lost a combined 93-96 pounds (giving a range because your girl is big-time fluctuating right now) over two years and using two different GLP-1 medications!

I'll be vulnerable for a second -- I thought I'd be further along by now. However, I've exceeded what the commercials say I would do. Plus, I'm building muscle -- and constant exercise leads to lost inches that may not necessarily show up on the scale. I haven't lost weight in a few months, but my clothes are looser. It feels like a consolation prize, but it still feels good. Intellectually I know that the numbers on the scale aren't the true test, lab results are. NSVs are. Increased quality of life is. Longevity is.

The question I am most often asked is, "What's different?" followed by, "What feels easier now?" The most obvious answer is how much of a role exercise now plays in my daily life, and the fact that I look forward to it now as opposed to the absolute dread I felt around it before. Of course I felt dread; "eat less and move more" is not so simple when carrying more than 300 pounds on a five-foot-four frame. Now, I run 5K and four-mile races. I love personal training sessions. I take HIIT and Step Aerobics classes. I have fitness mentors in our community whom I am forever grateful for.

I've made this statement before and I'll make it again: movement is needed for weight loss, but when you're severely obese, intense exercise cannot happen without weight loss. That said, one does not have to possess society's idea of a skinny ideal body in order to be fit. This conversation is highly nuanced, and "the goal of losing enough weight to make sure that you're not in debilitating pain from exercise" and "the goal of being societal ideal skinny" are not the same thing.

But exercise is the answer that everyone sees. What the world doesn't see is the fact that I no longer have to sit on the floor to reach the bottom shelf of the dishwasher, or to reach the bottom of the filing cabinet at work. The bathtub that no longer overflows when I sit in it. The reminder I still give myself when the only parking spots that are available are far away from the entrance ("You've run much further than the distance to the entrance, this is easy."). The songs at church that I can sing now without all of those extra breaths. How I can pick myself up off the floor after sitting on it, and how Anthony no longer has to, quite literally, pull me up. The steering wheel in my car that no longer touches my stomach, and how the long car rides that used to lead to debilitating pain are now easy. The 53,000 steps over three days at Disney that I walked without any Advil reinforcements. I could go on. Weight loss AND fitness brought me all of those victories.

And then there's the mental piece of it all. While I am intent on continuing to lose more weight, I know that if I didn't lose another pound, my mental state is all the better for this experience. I wouldn't change a thing for the sole reason that I had no idea what food noise even was until I was living without it. Two years later, leaving a piece of bread on the basket and not having that bread become emotionally charged is still revolutionary to me. Not to mention, eliminating the mental load of "Will I be able to walk from the parking lot to the entrance?" And it's true what my parents have always said about exercise helping mental health... while it can't be the sole component of a path to mental wellness, it certainly is a big one for me.

As always, I don't want to lie down any kind of edict that one has to lose weight to be happy, or to thrive. But I'm thriving more now than I ever have. Opportunities are coming in droves, and there are many that I'm so excited about.

To everyone who has been along for the ride over these past two years: thank you. It's still hard for me to take a compliment, but I promise you, I hear it, and I appreciate you more than you know.

And to 13, 18, 22, and 34-year-old Gracie: You're going to be alright. It was never, ever your fault.