Rachel Reports Life

(Left: Senior prom, April 2009. Right: 20th birthday, April 2011)

For most people, trying to lose weight falls into three categories.

1. There are those of the “Oh my God, I NEED to lose three pounds because I look SO FAT in these pants” persuasion.
2. There are those who say “I’m sorry, I can’t eat ______, I’m on a diet now,” before they decide they don’t actually care a month later.
3. And there are those for whom weight has been a lifelong struggle, something to be forever battled and constantly aware of, but rarely spoken about. For them, obesity is an issue to fix quietly - with a first failed attempt, then a second, often a third, and so on.

I am one of those people, who, by virtue of genetics and lifestyle, lived my first 19 years in a constant love-hate relationship with food and body image. What I ate always overpowered the amount of exercise I got (and let’s be honest, playing softball isn’t exactly rock climbing). Although I never really ate emotionally, food was always something to be celebrated and eaten in large amounts, something that’s especially prevalent in Jewish culture. So I ate, and it was all delicious. I got fatter. And I acted like I didn’t care, because my life was good despite being obese and all its social stigmas.

Nonetheless, I loved who I was as a person - a reliable, hardworking, trustworthy, fun, mostly good human being, successful in school and in journalism, with big goals and an insatiable need for accomplishment, etc. But no matter how pleased I was in every other area of my life, there was always the one facet I could never fix.

It’s not to say I didn’t try. My first round of Weight Watchers started in middle school. I lost 20 pounds, got busy or stopped caring or whatever else always happened, and gained it back. I got older and my body got bigger, and that’s just how it went throughout high school, despite other attempts to reverse the cycle.

I never cared enough. It never meant enough. And I never said anything, because everyone passes judgment on the fat girl who tries to be skinny. Sad reality, but true.

Then, in January of last year, at 18 years old and 210 pounds, I looked at myself in the mirror and knew it was time to get my life together. I was in college and more than capable of taking control of my habits and my body. My first trip to Israel was five months away, I would be studying abroad in a year, and honestly, I just wanted to experience things and take pictures in a body I truly liked.

It was also then that I learned a friend was being sent to rehab for bulimia. She’s a beautiful girl whose body image had been destroyed by skewed perception, and it made me realize how important it was to respect one’s body. Because of her, I chose to become healthy not just for myself, but to show that losing weight should be done as an act of love for your life and for your body, not out of self-hatred.

So began my weight loss journey to 125. That was almost a year and a half ago, and since then, I’ve lost 68 pounds, finished a 5K in 30 minutes and discovered what it means to love ALL of life, not just most of it. I’ve done a lot of cool things in my 20 years on earth, but nothing - NOTHING - has been as fulfilling as creating a lifestyle that continues to amaze me every single day. It’s a beautiful feeling. I can’t wait to see this through to the end, to run more races, to do anything I want with a new body and a new outlook on life.

Along the way, I found Ben Davis, a guy I talk a lot about on here but really is one of the coolest, most inspirational people in the “fitblr” world. He’s lost 120 pounds, run marathons, and finished an Ironman. Check him out for fun sometime. Whenever I forget what it means to “do life,” I just go back to him, and I remember why this means so much not to be fat anymore.

Less than 20 pounds stand between me and my goal of 125 now - a healthy weight at which I can decide to drop or gain five pounds, wherever I think I’ll feel most comfortable. It’s not about getting thighs that don’t touch, or a stomach without an ounce of fat. It’s about nourishment rather than starvation. It’s about knowing that measuring portions and eating enough fruit and not having a whole pizza and simply listening to yourself DOES work in the long run. Most of all, it’s about love.

So why am I proclaiming this via Tumblr? To be honest, I don’t want to, but maybe the fact that I’m finally doing it is a sign of newfound confidence. Accountability is hard - I’ve never been good at taking people’s compliments on my weight loss, and I still don’t know how to respond to people telling me I’m an inspiration. It’s part of the adjustment process, though, and the more people that know about it, the more motivation I’ll have to finish strong. Plus, if something I’ve said or done makes something click for you, makes you wonder what it could be like to amaze yourself every day, and you start your own journey of doing life - that’s even better.

(And if people still want to make fun of the formerly fat girl? Whatever. Let me go run six miles for fun. Then we’ll talk.)

Now I’ve said it. Now you know. Now we keep doing life. And I’m incredibly excited to make up for nearly 19 years of lost time. It has been, is, and will be worth it. :)

(I used to hate being picked up. My friends decided to take the matter into their own hands… literally.)