I Felt Like I Was a 1000 Pounds in Grade School

Stop thinking that purple shirt and red tie wasn't stylish. I cruised right into the disco era when it peaked in grade six.

I was at an assembly at my son's school today and could see all the kids spread out before me. My first impression was, "Boy, there sure are lots of fat kids." My second impression was, "The fat kids are really overweight."

When I was in grade school I was considered the fat kid. There might have been one or sometimes two other kids in the class that classmates referred to as overweight, but I felt really, really fat. As I got older and looked back at old photos, the images don't match my memories. Some years I could barely be considered "big boned" for crying out loud. I was certainly not obese, no one in my school was that I can remember. But there's all kinds of kids who are obese now.

Some of these kids must be approaching twice the body weight of their peers. If they're like this now, at age nine, ten and eleven, what are they going to be like when they hit adulthood and sit behind a desk all day? They need intervention at as early an age as possible. I can't help but think that it's already too late for these kids. I see misery and hardship before them.

If I had to speculate on what I saw today, I'd say the poorer kids are more likely to be the ones with weight problems. I think statistics back that up. So why is that? I know they always say fatty food is cheaper but I have to think it has more to do with the parents' education and dedication to their children's upbringing.

But what do I know? All I know is that there are a lot more kids with weight problems than there were when I was a kid and being a kid with a weight problem isn't that much fun. I can say that with great authority.

I'm Surprised I'm Fat

Although I've shed fifty pounds of fat mass, it really doesn't amount to much in the grand scheme of things. Very few people even notice my reduced size unless I bring it up, then they look me over and concede it's possible.

That fact is, I'm a very large person and fifty pounds doesn't amount to much more appearance-wise than the equivalent of me sucking in my stomach. With someone my size, fifty pounds translates into only a shirt size or two in reduction. With someone smaller it might be a pant size per ten pounds.

So I'm still a gigantic "morbidly" obese man by all accounts, but the remarkable thing is I've begun to forget this fact. I find myself surprised by my appearance when I look in the mirror. I assume I'm not morbidly obese any longer because I've stopped feeling morbidly obese. Exercise has made me feel so "normal," strong and capable that it almost doesn't matter that I'm huge.

One approach that has crossed my mind is to solely focus on exercise and not worry about diet so much. Exercise has decreased my appetite for whatever reason and I feel obliged to eat more reasonably when I'm exercising regularly.

I saw my doctor today and he didn't notice anything different about me, although he was very happy when I filled him in on my progress. The last time I saw him five months ago, I was a very different person. Then, it would have been an agonizing, slow and tedious journey from my bed to his exam room.

What he didn't see today was how I floated effortlessly into his clinic, strong, energetic, and with a very capable cardiovascular system that wasn't sucking air before I got ten feet from the car.

Introduction: My Tipping Point

Six months ago, in December 2010 when I was 44 years old, I saw my doctor for a check-up. My blood pressure was up slightly and he told me to go get in shape or go on the pills. He said he could give me six months to make some changes but most people don't so I might as well go on the meds now. I agreed. I couldn't see myself reversing my lifestyle now or ever. I had given up.

But he said there wasn't much he could "give me shit for." My cholesterol was perfect, and so was my blood sugar. A few years ago he suggested that when I came to see him in ten years I'd be testing positive for diabetes. Yet he had little to shock me with to make me change my ways. He couldn't say, "If you don't do this, you'll be dead in two years."

During my forty year physical my doctor actually brought up gastric bypass surgery. I was dead against making any unnatural changes to my body. Ten years earlier I had lost 125 pounds and became quite fit. Armed with this knowledge of how to go from obese to fit (that it was possible and I knew exactly how to do it) I hated the idea of gastric bypass surgery.

Four years later I was asking for it. I had given up. I didn't think myself capable as a middle aged man to be able to make any significant changes. Six months earlier I had tried my treadmill every other day but lost no weight or inches. I stopped exercising and decided I had to get a grip on my eating problem first. It never happened.

I found myself feeling helpless, spiralling into ever-worsening problems with my weight. I laid in bed most of the day because I was too tired or sore to spend much time up and about. I ate supper on a recliner in front of the TV, and because I burned little or no calories from moving, my weight continued to increase even though I thought I was making small improvements to my over-eating. I lost confidence that I could ever change on my own.

The fact was, I reached a point where I couldn't move much and did less and less every day. Doing less caused me to gain more body fat, which in turn caused me to move even less. I felt like I was on a slippery slope. Things were out of my control and I was helpless. This scared me. I foresaw a continuation of weight gain and a ever-increasing sedentary lifestyle. I felt at risk of dying at any moment. At best, there were only years left in my life instead of decades.

I have young children. They're only three and seven. They need their daddy. I lost mine when I was 20 and it was hard even at that age. I knew that me dying in their childhood would cause them pain and maybe even some dysfunction throughout their lives. I started writing notes to my children in case I died, telling them that I loved them and that I was sorry. I made sure there were pictures of me with them. I smiled with my most loving expression in the event that that photograph was all they had to remember me by.

I couldn't participate in all things my family did. I couldn't play with my kids. The best I could muster was reading them stories while I lay in bed. And I couldn't work, even acting jobs were becoming increasingly difficult and humiliating when I tried to perform the most basic tasks.

At my December check-up my doctor told me he was now against gastric bypass/lap band surgery. He had patients get it done and then revert back to their old eating habits. My last hope, most desperate option wasn't even there for me any longer.

My doctor suggested I sign up for a class that my progressive medical clinic offered twice per year. I had heard of the class when I was treated for an anxiety disorder three years ago by a free counsellor available to me through my remarkable clinic but I didn't pursue it. THIS was my new last chance. I said yes.

Two months later I met with my nutritionist in advance of the six week, once per week class beginning. I was to meet with her on a regular basis and she would offer me advice, help me create doable eating goals and be someone for me to be accountable to as I progressed. I see her once per month.

She encouraged me to start exercising as well--anything to get started. I began walking my daughter to her preschool twice per week at the beginning of March. It required four 8-minute walks through the icy streets in  late winter and they exhausted me.

But soon I was walking 20 minutes a night in a loop around my neighbourhood and things started to change rapidly.

Four months into my work, I'm a new person. I feel like I've shed a major disability and am a fully functioning person again, doing things I never thought I would do again in this life. And it's really not that hard. This blog will document my personal journey so that I can inspire and educate others who are in the position I was only 12 weeks ago.