Fit2Fat2Fit (7 page)

Top Three Guilty Pleasures

Waking up in the middle of the night starving and eating a bowl of cereal or a whole can of Pringles

Stopping by the gas station to pick up Zingers and an energy drink on my way to work

Quitting manscaping, leaving me more time to do other things, like eat

Even personal trainers were weighing in on the matter, startled that I would take the steps I had to understand my clientele, but appreciative of their own changing understanding of what it meant to have so much weight to lose.

In my fit days, the routine had been control and order. Then, as my journey evolved, I became uncontrolled and reckless. These days, I needed to understand the true dangers and consequences of an unhealthy lifestyle, while supporting a growing network of followers who were looking for a path to their own health.

While I may have been unprepared in many ways for my experience with becoming overweight, I had an almost endless list of expectations going into it. But here's the thing about expectations and plans: they don't account for life. Nothing ever happens as you expect it to. There are challenges that you aren't sure you're equipped to deal with, that you're not ready for. And your life becomes so much more complicated than it used to be.

As I mentioned earlier, I always thought that people chose to be healthy or not. But I learned that it's not as simple as “deciding” to be healthy on any particular day, especially when you haven't been before. You need good reasons, strong will, internal motivation, and community support to change your life for the better.

The irony is that I had to do the opposite of my followers to change my own life around. I needed good reasons, strong will, internal motivation, and above all community support during the months of weight gain. But the result was the same—as my body changed on the outside and within, my life changed for the better.

Yes, I now know what it's like to be physically overweight. I learned how to deal with snoring, chafing, and extreme exhaustion. I ripped a few scrubs in the process. But as I noted earlier, being overweight is so much more than a physical experience. There is an emotional toll.

The enormity of self-doubt you inherit isn't something that can be described. The fear of life-threatening effects on your health becomes all too real. And the sense of isolation—from your community, as well as society as a whole—never leaves you. But I finally knew what it felt like, and that is the wisdom I had sought.

Amidst the turmoil of my life, though, and amidst my feelings of isolation, was a greater realization that people are never as alone as they think they are. My followers, especially Megan, had made me realize that every “Like” on Facebook or comment on a blog post was coming from someone who could be struggling with weight, looking for guidance and inspiration, or longing to connect.

But with thousands of e-mails pouring in daily, the responsibility had started to sink in. I hoped my weekly updates, posts, and tweets would reach people in a way that truly helped them. The irony wasn't lost on my wife, nor on me. Months back, alone in my kitchen, reflecting on the failed personal training experience with James, I had been frustrated by the lack of impact I was making. Success wasn't a guarantee—either before my journey or now.

As I reached six months, the fear for my health and the unknowns about whether I would take the weight off still occupied my thoughts daily. The goal, after all, was to help people reach their goals with me. But it was no longer about me. Fit2Fat2Fit had become about a group of individuals deciding that we were going to transform our lives. My idea for the journey may have been the catalyst, but now every one of us was in this together.

Putting health first was a community effort, and I knew that we all needed each other to succeed.

W
hen I was younger, dating a host of eligible bachelors, I'd always see if each new person could pass my simple first-date test—you know, the one where you see if you can make it through a meal with enough to talk about before you turn to engaging conversation subjects like, “Wow, this water seems fresh!”

And while it may be true that no first date leads to a second date without “common interests,” that need for commonality seems to become less important the longer a relationship lasts. By the time you're staring at the possibility of marriage, the joining of your differences is what starts to create a lifelong bond.

At least that's what I tell myself when I look at the vast differences between my husband and me. If it's not painfully obvious by now, my husband loves being fit. It actually defines him. From the moment we started dating, I was introduced to a world of maximum exercise, minimal unhealthy food, and clear rules around anything considered a treat.

I, on the other hand, am a foodie. I live to eat. You can toss away fancy jewelry, flowers, and a carriage ride in the snow. Give me a four-course meal at my favorite restaurant, and the deal is sealed.

I'm not a natural exerciser. I've dabbled in running, but physical activity has never been at the top of my to-do list. Exercising has always been a fun diversion, nothing less and nothing more.

And my biggest weakness is dessert. Cookies, cakes, and pies were welcome guests in my home in the pre-Drew days—not as the occasional treat, but every day.

That's how I decided that opposites attract, at least for us. How else could you explain a fitness freak marrying a food lover? In many ways Drew was there to improve my health, filling our house with the right foods and encouraging me to exercise.

As for my part, I got Drew out of the house for romantic dates and dinners with friends, teaching him that it was all right to take the day off once in a while, and even more okay to order a dessert … or two. That was the balance we found in our life and our marriage.

Drew's worldview dominated the weekdays, as we made daily spinach shakes and prepared meals for the week as if we were preparing for a natural disaster. The weekends lent themselves to my exploits as we relaxed our supernatural standards.

Needless to say, I lived for date nights. I loved the whole process—dressing up just a bit more, eating better food, and getting out of the house for an evening. Once we had children, it became even more important to act like adults and enjoy our time together.

To say that Fit2Fat2Fit changed the balance in our marriage would be the understatement of the century. Although I was completely supportive as the journey got under way, our marriage evolved greatly as Drew added pounds, and by the end of the Fit2Fat stage, we were the perfect image of imbalance.

Nothing illustrates the change more than date night. The transition was subtle at first. We'd go out, and instead of Drew scouring the menu to find the healthiest thing he could, he'd let flavor dictate his choice. I noticed a pleasant change of pace: for the first time during our marriage, we were allowed to order like foodies.

That enjoyable phase didn't last long. With two children, our jobs, and Drew's journey eating up more and more of our time, date night took on a different role. Drew was now totally invested in his weekly food challenges, trying to prove just how much his tastes and appetite had evolved. As a result, our alone time was replaced by a quick meal for me so that I could hold the video camera while he tried to really pig out (or eat a real pig).

Soon enough, however, date night didn't even get us out of the house. There was no more need to dress up; my inner foodie remained where she was—inside. Drew's new eating habits had changed something in me. I suddenly took on the role of the healthy eater, because I was tired of seeing his typical American cuisine on our kitchen counter every single night.

The tipping point came one evening after the kids had gone to bed. I was looking forward to some quiet time and relaxation. But Drew had other ideas. I found him sitting on the couch, complaining about his stomach and how full he was from the week's food challenge. And then I noticed the bottle in his hands.

Sheepishly, he asked for my help. Would I mind rubbing some stretch-mark lotion on his belly? He was just too tired to do it himself, he said. In that moment, the thought,
How much do I love him?
flashed through my mind.

I grabbed the bottle and started rubbing lotion over his big, hairy belly.

It was in that moment that I saw the real changes in Drew … and the changes in us.

As Drew was gaining weight, another voluntary physical change took place: he stopped shaving his chest and arms. Body hair had always been something Drew abhorred. There seemed to be a correlation between his gym obsessions and what he called “manscaping.” The more fit he was, the more razors there were in our bathroom.

Sixty pounds later, in a conversation I had with one of my closest friends, I was able to put into words the difficulties that this journey had brought—physically, at least.

A true foodie compares the world and life experiences to food. So when my friend asked me what it was like to have an overweight husband, when I had been accustomed to his flat stomach, food, of all things, came to mind.

I've dated men of all shapes and sizes. Some were skinny, some heavy. And others were fit. I didn't care. Body weight is a little like salmon. No matter whether it's smoked, raw, or grilled, salmon is delightful. More often than not, I've enjoyed a little “salmon” in my life.

I've also dated men of various “manscapes.” Drew represented one end of the spectrum; his body was a well-manicured wonderland. But since I didn't mind body hair, I certainly never demanded that Drew shave. Body hair is a little like peanut butter. It's great in the right place and quantity.

The problem, then, wasn't the weight or the hair; it was the combination. Drew gained an immense amount of weight and let an extraordinary amount of body hair grow. While each of these “additions” was individually palatable, together they resulted in … peanut butter–smeared salmon. And trust me: salmon never goes well with peanut butter.

This unusual and off-putting combination caused some awkward moments in our marriage, and specifically in our sex life.

Fitting sex into a marriage with a two-year-old and a newborn is hard in itself. You need to choose your “moments” wisely, because they're vital to staying sane through the rigors of work, kids, and life in general. Given that peanut butter–coated salmon was our plat du jour—it was that or nothing—I started compensating in the bedroom. First, it was a simple adjustment. Our bedroom light had a dimmer that I started to use. To this day, I'm unsure whether Drew noticed any difference back then (he is a man, after all), but it helped me.