My Story – Part One

A lot of people say they were ‘fat’ or a bit ‘chubby’ growing up. But there’s a huge difference in carrying around a little excess pudge and being both the shortest and the fattest kid in your middle school classroom. Having a forty-two inch waist by age thirteen is something a touch difficult to relate to unless you live it, especially if you’re only five feet tall. Like I was.

I started getting fat around age seven mostly because of genetics. I was raised in a family of skinny people, genetic ectomorphs if you will, so there was always junk food around. And when I began my transformation I found myself working twice as hard as everyone else to maintain what amounted to an unimpressive, decidedly normal physique. The disparity between the efforts I put into exercise and the results that came out led to a great deal of frustration. This frustration ended up inspiring my interest in the science of body recomposition, and in turn this site. My war against poor genetics. So this is my story for everyone else dissatisfied with their body: from excess corpulence to a GQ-worthy physique. Hell, if I can do it, you can too.

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During the golden years of my youth a day began with coffee and an added three tablespoons of sugar. This mega-dosing of sucrose, you’ll find, is a necessity if you’re addicted to extra tasty, extra carbonated, extra pretty much everything real Coke. None of that diet crap touched my lips.

A stop off at Starbucks would follow, a croissant, maybe two, and a grande full fat mocha would top off my morning. A solid six to eight hours would pass and then I’d come home where I’d eat non-stop until I fell asleep. Sounds awesome huh? Cookies, chips, pasta, it didn’t matter.  My ass was parked firmly in front of the family computer, gaming amidst pizza, cheesy sticks, and ice cream. It was fun it a very hedonistic sense, but never filling.

Now let’s back up for a moment. Is this that different from any other teen? All of the guys (yes guys, because no girl would come near me) I spent my time with ate like this yet stayed lean. This was pre-metrosexual revolution of 2003, when suddenly every bro in America read Men’s Health. Too many fitness authors rail on the dietary habits of the public which, in large, are learned habits bred from a lack of information. The RDA is ambiguous enough to allow for serious transgression – pizza has starch, dairy, and fruit by means of tomato sauce – that’s, like three food groups!

I remember playing basketball, taking Taekwondo classes (imagine the hilarity of a sweating mound of flush leaping in the air doing spin kicks), throwing Frisbees, and even (egads) running to stay in shape.

But the food was always faster it seemed.

By age 19 I was sick and tired of people throwing rocks at me because they could. I was too small in stature, too fat, and carried not one ounce of social credibility. When you finally get lean and people can’t use you as their emotional piñata you start ditching the assholes in your life and instead make people prove their worth to you. That was  a huge revelation for me.

I remember not enjoying food even if I ate tons. It was always there but I never tasted nor cared about what I put into my mouth. Was it an emotional escape? Maybe. I grew up in an environment of constant anxiety, enduring the agony of adolescence and in consequence used food to compensate.

Imagine being awarded a black belt in Taekwondo and your school not having a belt large enough to fit you. My size felt like a cancer, or maybe a really bad case of publicized herpes.

That was me until a chance discussion with my band, the end of a relationship, and a friend’s painfully accurate caricature destroyed all I believed about myself.

Check back soon for Part Two. And if you haven’t subscribed for updates, you should, by clicking the link at the top of this page!

Tagged as: diet, fat loss, lifestyle, weight loss