Hi. My name is April. I'm a fatso.
Here is a picture of me in Italy 1998. Not at my fattest, but close.
This picture is also in Italy 1998. I had begun walking three times a week with a friend. We did a mile or so. It felt good, but it was hard. Once we left Italy I got even heavier.
There are no pictures of me from California (our next duty station) to hand.
Mostly because I could not stand to be photographed.
On the day of my gastric bypass surgery I weighed in at 377 pounds.
The surgery was successful from day one.
I lost 100 pounds in six months.
In this photograph I weigh 270 pounds... that was June, 2001
I was incredibly proud.
I felt good.
I could walk.
I could sleep through the night.
I was happy and sure of my continued success.
At my 2 year anniversary I had lost a total of 170 pounds.
I looked fantastic.
I felt fantastic.
Then I got a tummy tuck and had 8 pounds of skin removed from my stomach.
(notice no under arm boob roll, and no ass lump)
I was very happy for several, several years.
Here I am riding again.
Something I had thought I would never be able to do again.
I think I am the happiest I have been in years in this photo.
A few years have passed.
I am older.
I have gained weight.
It kinda just snuck up on me.
One minute I'm buying larger jeans, and the next minute I'm back to shopping for plus size shirts and can't believe all my favorites either don't fit or look like crap.
Here I am on my birthday last year.
Weighing in at 230
Today I weigh 270.
It has dawned on me today that I am back to that 6 month photo.
I look at that photo and it no longer makes me happy.
In fact, it makes me incredibly sad.
This is me today. 270 pounds. Yuck.
Today I started marathon training.
I walked the first 3 of many miles ahead of me this summer.
Tomorrow I go to the dietitian for help with my food.
I also will be broaching the subject of a gastric band.
But I have the power to make things better.
I've done it before.
I will do it again.