The Good, the Fat and the Hungry - Weighty rejection

Welcome to the Good, the Fat and the Hungry. I'm Karla and I have been -- or am -- all those things. Here, I will share with you my lifelong struggle with my weight and I hope you'll follow along on with my determined attempt to lose nearly 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every win and setback along the way every Tuesday and Friday.

Rejection made me fat.

I was accused of cheating and having an adult help me write an essay in a contest to be MC at the 2nd and 3rd grade talent show. The essay in the words of my principal was, "too good to come from the mind of a seven-year-old." But I did write it. On all I love, I promise I wrote it with no help at all. My parents fought tooth and nail but to no avail. My essay was disqualified.

This was my first taste of rejection. It is also the first binge incited by pain that I can recall. It was the opening of the hole in me that would get deeper, blacker and wider. My attempts to eat the pain away and fill this hole with food added stress, pounds and an insecurity that would keep me from loving anyone, including me.

Thirty years later and down in the hole along with the essay pain were failed relationships, credit denials, car repossessions, promotions I didn't get, a stillborn and a thousand other pieces of rejection. The hole had become me. I got fatter, the hole got bigger and I ate more. As I got fatter, the hole got deeper, and I ate even more.

(Enter gastric bypass from stage left.)

I almost blush when I say the words, but my life has changed in so many unforeseen ways since I had the surgery. Gastric bypass is frowned upon in many circles, but what people overlook is that it is a tool, not a cure. I am the first to agree that it is not for everyone. But after years of 360-degree rejection, this tool has helped me see me. It has afforded me the chance to get to a size that I like enough to fight to maintain.

Are there other ways of doing this? Absolutely. I can only speak to my journey. Here's my take on it: If you were in hell would you wait for first class seats out? I think not. If you can hitch a ride out of hell, be it by bus, plane, camel or train, get out! My way out was by knife. Nevertheless, I'm out, to stay.

I still get rejected or what I feel is rejected. My neighbor broke a date to work out with me a few weeks ago. I was disappointed. Not only is he fine but he is buff! Hence my reason for accepting his invite to teach me strength training. Between me and you, I really just wanted to see the sweat glisten on his bald head. Plus, I had a new outfit ready and everything. I was more than disappointed, I was pissed. And I felt rejected. I looked at my fridge to the left. I looked at my sneakers to the right. In between the two is a mirror. (It's New York, my apartment is small!!) I looked in the mirror again and I saw me. I grabbed my sneaks and headed for the door. I figured I'd binge on fresh air and burn some calories instead of consuming some. I saw myself in the mirror and I accepted the truth that I deserve to be in this place of wellness and self love. Rather than fill the hole, I'll fight the hole. I'll shrug off rejection whether real or fake and press to get to where I want to be. It took some time to detach food from my emotions, but I'm getting there.

I'm down to 194.8 pounds and staring my goal right in the eye. I'm gunning for you 160!