I saw a baby in church who was so fat, it looked painful. I looked at her fat parents and wanted to slap them both silly -- Three Stooges style -- but we were in church. The preacher was talking about forgiveness, and as bad as I needed to hear what the good Rev. Dr. was saying, all I could do was stare at the Klumps seated in front of me. I immediately wondered what these people were feeding this child. It's no secret that down South we give our babies cereal very early on, as in weeks vs. the months most doctors recommend. Hence, I've seen a chubby baby or two in my day. However, this baby was ready for the Maury show. In all fairness, I know nothing of the child's medical and genetic histories, so this is based solely on what I saw. If her parents were any indication, this child was being fed far more than she could possibly need. I don't understand how two people living a life that could potentially mirror my past morbidly-obese pain would allow the curse to continue.

When I went home, I started poking around the Internet, only to discover that the problem of obesity among children is officially an epidemic. Several studies talked about how rapid weight gain during the first six months could place a child at risk of obesity by age 3. An article for the HarvardScience Publication found, "As childhood obesity continues its 30-year advance from occasional curiosity to cultural epidemic, health care providers are struggling to find out why - and the reasons are many," David Cameron writes. "Increasingly sedentary environments for both adults and children, as well as cheap and ubiquitous processed foods no doubt play a role, but researchers are finding more evidence that the first clues for childhood obesity may begin as far back as early infancy."

January 30, 2006. That date may not ring any bells for you, however, among the gastric bypass circle, it is commonly known as my re-born date. This was the date of my surgery and certainly the beginning of a new life for me. It really was, in essence, like being born again into a better life.

Nearly four years later, I am wondering if I still have to disclose that I am a gastric bypass patient. In the early days, it was necessary for various reasons. Small portions from expensive restaurants made more than a few dates inquire why I'd eat so little of what most would consider a great meal. At some point, when comfortable, I would tell folks about the surgery and my limitations. For the most part, the reactions were ones that I could live with. However, on more than one occasion, the response was less than flattering.

I also shared the news with friends and family for various reasons. Again, this news was met with an array of responses ranging from, 'you go girl' to 'you took the easy way out'. Some, I told for accountability. Others, I told because, in an instance where I'd be sick, get food stuck or suffer from dumping syndrome, they needed to know how to help. Well, those things are no longer of grave concern.

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Have you ever been embarrassed? Maybe a slight trip and fall caused your cheeks to flush red. Or perhaps you flashed that cute guy your brightest smile only to later discover that you had a huge piece of spinach in your teeth. Sure these things might bring a little shame. But what if they happened on national TV?

Of course I couldn't have had a little slip and fall or spinach in my teeth. Oh no! That's not grand enough for me. Even though I'm not from Texas, I like to do it big. Why would my most embarrassing moment prove to be anything less than my preferred method -- big.

My BFF Taia and I agreed to do a fitness challenge last summer for the "The Early Show" on CBS. The challenge was set to begin on Memorial Day and end on Labor Day. We had eight weeks to meet weight-loss goals we'd set for various reasons. She was planning a wedding, I wanted to shed 20 or so for general purposes, and another lovely lady we didn't know wanted to shed her Freshman 15.

Karla Carrington Photo: Kim Keaton

We broke up. No, silly. Not me and P90X, me and the guy. I am still completely enamored with Tony Horton's P90X. But the guy, not so much.

First, the good. I am entering phase two, week four of P90X and in a word, I'm not ready for it. These first three weeks have punished me physically in ways I didn't know were possible. But I like it. Stuff is hurting that I didn't know could hurt. And I like that, too. When I was obese, stuff hurt even worse. And I hated it. Whatever aches I experience with P90X can be stretched away. Morbid obesity pain required pills.

Look, I'm no pitch man and I get no kickbacks from these folks. I say this of my own free will, P90X has changed my life. I feel stronger, I look fitter and I have more stamina. I am running longer and feeling less winded. In a nutshell, pound the gavel, the decree has been made: Tony Horton's baby daddyship privileges are hereby restored.

Photo: sxc.hu

I met a guy! Not just any guy, but a guy who could eventually "be" something. From one professional to another, he has real potential. As most women do, I had to compare him to my "He Must Have" check list. I'm happy to say that he stacks up pretty well.

He's self employed, very attractive and although a bit rough around the edges, he is a gentleman. He makes me laugh and can even laugh at himself. Oddly enough, he is not bothered by my quiet moods and that is huge for me. There are times when I don't want to hear a sound, nor do I make one, and that can be a bit unnerving when you're accustomed to me being Chatty Cathy, but he doesn't mind one bit.

It's still very early on, so I'm not making any bets. Quite simply, I like him (sigh). But wait just one minute before you ask about the registry. Although I like him and enjoy his company, I hate his diet. Shortly after we met, we were on the phone and he asked me to hold briefly. As I am holding, I heard him order a double cheeseburger with extra bacon. I almost gagged thinking how many calories that was. Hoping that first incident was a fluke, I promised to keep a gentle watch to see if his poor eating was habit. Well, hell yeah, it is, and I am completely disgusted! This guy eats whatever, whenever, and however -- and he's not even fat! I have on more than one occasion looked at his plate only to wonder where he puts it all. Is he still just a growing boy?

Photo: float, sxc.hu

Four weeks into Weight Watchers and everything is perfect -- my journaling is exact, I'm making all the right eating choices, I've never gone over my points limit and I've reached my goal already. So take that last 20 pounds! OK, so all those things really do apply, in a perfect world.

Here's what's going on in my real world: Four weeks into Weight Watchers, and I've attended three out of four meetings, still eating right up to the points limit and borrowing as needed from other days. I journal on occasion and have gained as much as I've lost. I was down 2.2 pounds and back up 1.1 pounds.

No doubt, I am only enjoying half of the benefits of the program because I'm only halfway trying. I can't lie ya'll, I like to eat. And for as many posts that I write with tricks, tips, pointers and expert advice, I don't always do the things that I should. I can hear experts, trainers and nutritionists in my head saying, "Karla, you don't have to deprive yourself, you can enjoy -- in moderation." A single Nutter Butter cookie never brought me no joy. I need at least two to crack a smile and at least three to show some teeth -- four and I'm bordering on elation. Some days, I just can't talk myself down. I try to gauge when I'm weakest and when I'm strongest, but then I get nervous because I can't identify and well, I need a snack to think it over.

I'm only human. I make no excuses, and I take full responsibility for all the wrong I've eaten. On a much lighter note, my exercise routine has not waned. I've continued faithfully with my trainer and am working hard. I've graduated to male push ups and various other exercises that months ago were only a dream. All of this is in preparation for the big day, August 1st.

Photo: Getty Images I AOL

What my sexy neighbor Andre' says to do, Karla does. We've worked out together, and he is intense. He pushes me hard, but I don't mind. He refuses to let me give up, so I don't. The time between our sessions may be days or weeks, but I always walk away feeling proud and accomplished.

One day Andre' mentioned Tony Horton's P90X DVD fitness series. He said he'd been using it and then pulled up his shirt to show off his results. I visually saw the difference between cut and ripped. After wiping the drool from my lip, I said, "wow!" He gave me his version of Tony Horton's muscle confusion concept and how the program had worked for him. I listened intently and decided to find out more.

The following day, I was fortunate enough to catch the infomercial. I saw Tony Horton talking about P90X, and I immediately thought, "That's my baby daddy right there." Oh, but that's probably not the thought you guys care about. My second and more weighty thought was, "Dang, could I do this? Could I have six packs that I don't drink? Could I take my fitness level to the extreme?" Listening to the conviction in Tony's voice about the program made a hint of belief creep in.

See the photo to the right? That's me! Well, I mean, that's my head. I have no idea whose abs those are, but thanks to PhotoShop and my girl Waj, I could be looking at the future me. According to Tony Horton, I can have those abs, and he's much too hot to ever lie.

Karla Carrington

Two weeks in with Weight Watchers, and I've been more off the wagon than on. I realize I am too smart for my own good. I'm so smart, in fact, I'm dumb. Here's an example of how my mind works: Vanilla wafers. Innocent enough, right? They are a better choice than my favorite Nutter Butter cookies, so I buy them instead. But that doesn't mean eat the whole box, fool!

Yes, over the span of two days, I ate an entire box of vanilla wafers. They weren't even the good Nilla brand wafers, but a bootleg store brand.

Some foods I just need to be brought into a courtroom before a judge, with my hand and lips on a six pack of bibles and sworn to a death oath not to buy. Ever. An entire box later, Nilla brand and all its bootleg vanilla wafer cousins are banned from my house.

Karla Carrington (right) and sister, Dr. Janice Chambers (left)

I take comments left on my posts very seriously. Often, I read people's comments and laugh out loud or end up clapping aloud in celebration of their victories. Some comments leave me with tear-stained eyes as I relive the pain of my past through the words of another. I've also had a few comments that haven't thrilled me, but I always respect that people feel strongly enough to write.

A few weeks ago, a reader expressed her excitement over the wonderful content offered here at That's Fit, but she felt that we hadn't stressed enough the significance of family support in the struggle to lose weight. Well, as luck would have it, I have a little story about that. Like to hear it? Here goes:

My older sister Janice is my best friend. I have a younger sister, Willette, and we're very close, but she is not my best friend because I have to pay her back money that I borrow. Janice's loans do not require payback. If Willette reconsiders the whole re-payment thing, her status might be upgraded, but until then, Janice is my best friend. Janice and I vacation together, we talk almost every day, and we even beat up old ladies together for Black Friday discounts. Janice is a woman of few words, and if she says it, she does it. She's one of the few people I look up to and even listen to.

Photo: mason bryant/Flickr

I promised myself that there are some numbers on the scale I will see never again. When I got down to 300 pounds, I said bye-bye forever. Again at 200 pounds, I vowed the needle would never reach two anything -- ever again. Having consistently teetered between 183 and 191, my two-hundred-phobia has resolved. However, still looming in the back of my mind is the fact that by medical standards, I am still considered 'overweight.'

My 'normal' weight range is between 125 and 150 pounds. Did anybody else laugh reading that? Because I sure did. Those numbers are a little too low for someone stricken with bigbuttitis. In my usual fashion, I have taken the initiative to set a goal of 170 pounds. That is still 10 pounds above the recommendation of my doctor and trainer Jake, but any lower and I may have to turn in my big-butt club membership. I'm not quite ready to do that. It does have its privileges.

This goal lead me to my first Weight Watchers meeting at a local synagogue. I jumped on the scale and went through the routine hesitantly but proud of myself for making the steps and not stopping where I am because I "feel" good. Losing these 20 pounds, I expect to feel better.

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 the last 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every Wednesday about every win and setback along the way.

I've got good news! Nope, I didn't save a ton of money on my car insurance, but I did make a discovery -- I am completely normal. And that feels a whole lot better than saving a few bucks on insurance.

I just had the most special vacation I've ever had. I've been to other countries, tropical islands, whale watching, deep sea fishing and a host of other exotic locales, but this vacation tops them all. I went to Las Vegas -- as a normal person. I did not need any special accommodations, I sat in a normal plane seat, walked through normal turnstiles and sat by the pool in my swimsuit like a normal person. I took this trip to Las Vegas with a group of my girlfriends and had an absolute blast! For the first time in my adult life, I was just one of the girls on vacation, with my girls. I am no longer the fat girl of the girls, I'm simply 'one' of the girls. If I may say so myself, one of the better looking girls too.

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 the last 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every Wednesday about every win and setback along the way.

I can eat. Let me say that again. I can eat! Nearly four years after gastric bypass surgery -- and a thimbleful of food turned into a small plateful, which turned into a few extra pounds around my hips -- there's no doubt that I consider this surgery one of the best things I've ever done for myself. But I am only as successful as what I eat.

Granted, I am not able to eat anywhere near my former portions, but certainly more than I could when I first had the surgery. As the honeymoon period ended and the fat stopped melting away, the thrill was gone. I started falling back into old habits and making the rules as I go. After gaining my first four pounds, I realized I had a choice. Actually I had a lot of choices. I could do what it takes to go all the way to my goal, or I could falter and return to fat. I'm choosing to go all the way.

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 the last 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every Wednesday about every win and setback along the way.

OK, people. Here I go. My first Weight Watchers meeting is Thursday night. And I am nervous as hell. I can't say exactly why since I've successfully done Weight Watchers before. But I am. I have stepped on enough scales in my lifetime with many different emotions, but nothing beats the excitement I've felt weighing in at a meeting after a good week and seeing the minus sign in the total-loss column. I also haven't forgotten the frustration I would feel on weeks when the weight held a plus sign, meaning I'd gained. Even that was not a bad experience. It always motivated me to stay on the wagon and do all I could to see that precious minus sign again.

I'd love to say that I just took off running with it, but Weight Watchers was not unlike most projects that I start and don't finish. I start all things gung-ho because of the organization process. That is my favorite part. I begin with charts, graphs, analyses and labeled index cards in prep for the exercise itself. Putting things together excites me. But once I have completed that phase, boredom sets in. That zest for the project itself goes right out the window. I'm organized and ready now! Oh, you mean I actually have to do the project? What a novel idea.

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 the last 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every Wednesday about every win and setback along the way.


As a single person, being accountable to myself can be tricky. I can always give me an excuse to get what I want. Would I disagree with me? When it comes to accountability, it's just me and God. Since He's not going to descend from the throne and smack a slice of red velvet cake from my hands, I have to depend on me to keep things in check with my eating. Self policing doesn't always work, since my desire for something has a way of drowning out that still small voice, also known as my conscience. Who needs a conscience when you've got cake! I do.

An evening out in New York City with my friends can easily end with breakfast at our favorite 24-hour spot in Chelsea. When we go out, we go hard. Because none of them are familiar with the concept of being overweight, they have the luxury of eating whatever and whenever they like. I do not. Having shared my weight loss struggle with them, they have all been deputized to police me when we are out. They help keep me in check and I humbly allow them to.

Here are a few tips I have picked up along the way to keep eating and drinking to a minimum.

• I get a take-out box and separate half of my food before eating. That way there's less on my plate, and I don't feel wasteful because there's nothing visibly left on the plate.
• All meals start with a salad. After eating a salad, I eat less of the entree, and I don't miss the half I've already boxed.
• I have a glass of water between each drink. This is not only a good way to avoid intoxication, but it's also a great money saver.
• I skip the gravies and sauces. Ketchup, mayo and other condiments may not have many calories but at 2 a.m., everything counts. I opt for mustard where possible.
• I avoid ordering anything that says fried, au gratin, crispy or stuffed. As much as these words are music to my ears, these things tend to be high in fat and calories.

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 the last 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every Wednesday about every win and setback along the way.

I could dress it up in fancy words, but that's not my style. In a nutshell, my eating stinks. Dr. Jonny Bowden was glad to hear about my new fitness habits, but he did not delay in telling me that I could not out-train a bad diet. He stressed the importance of balanced eating and gave me great tips to help break some of the bad habits that have created this pseudo-plateau. It is actually not a plateau. I have somehow managed to balance out enough exercise to keep me from gaining. The downside is, I'm no longer losing. The drastic work is done. That was losing the hundreds of pounds. But I'm not done. I've still got another 10 or so I'd like to get rid of. Somehow these 10 seem much harder than the first 200, but I know I can do it.

I'm not too proud to say it. When it comes to my eating, I need help. Having tried every diet on the market, the only success I've ever experienced was with Weight Watchers. Back in the 80s, my brother and I even tried a pill called Dream Away. The infomercial was incredible! We watched all the before and after testimonials, and all we needed to do was "dream the fat away." Well, we jumped on this deal with both feet. Let me get this straight: We can eat what we want and just take a pill and the fat will melt away, while we sleep? Talk about a no-brainer, we were all over it. We pooled our allowances and his lawn mowing money and ordered our bottles of Dream Away. What this infomercial did not tell us was that it was really speed, and you never slept. Hence, if it failed it had to be because you weren't sleeping. Duh! Weight Watchers held no gimmicks and if I worked the system, it worked. I lost nearly 70 pounds and got too cute to keep up the good work. I'm still cute, but my thighs are still huge -- so I am considering a Weight Watchers rejoin.