“Yo mama’s so fat, when she stepped on the scale, it said, ‘One at a time, please!’” That joke hit way too close to home when my daughter came back from school, tears streaming down her face, humiliated by her classmates. I never thought my weight would make her a target.
Sure, kids can be cruel, but this? This cut deep—this was a whole new level of heartbreak.
One conversation with my daughter flipped my world upside down. My size wasn’t just my issue anymore. It was affecting the person I cared about most.
Dr. Mills didn’t sugarcoat the truth. The numbers were brutal, screaming for change. There were no easy fixes, just hard truths and harder decisions.
So here I am—trading Big Macs for sneakers, embarking on a journey I never wanted but can’t afford to avoid. People say change is hard.
They have no idea.
The Wake-Up Call
My kid’s in tears because of my weight. Didn’t see that coming.
One chat with Jada, and my world flips upside down. Dr. Mills drops the health bomb.
Time to ditch the fries and lace up. This mama’s on a mission.
The Teasing at School
I never thought my weight would affect Jada like this. Kids can be so cruel. My sweet girl came home from school today, eyes red and puffy. She tried to hide it, but I knew something was wrong.
“Mama, why are you so fat?” she blurted out between sobs.
My heart sank. I’d been called names before, but hearing it from my own daughter? That hit different.
Turns out, some boys at school were picking on her. “Your mom’s so fat, she has her own zip code!” They’d laugh and point, making Jada feel small and ashamed.
I wanted to march down to that school and give those little punks a piece of my mind. But what good would that do? The damage was already done.
Jada shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s not fair. I’m the one who let myself go, not her. She doesn’t deserve to be bullied because of me.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Really looked. The woman staring back at me was a stranger. When did I become this person?
A Difficult Conversation
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling Jada close. “You know those boys are just being mean, right? It doesn’t matter what size I am.”
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. It did matter. Not just because of the teasing, but because of what it meant for my health, for our future.
“I don’t want you to be sad, Mama,” Jada whispered. “I love you no matter what.”
Her words broke me. Here I was, supposed to be protecting her, and instead, my choices were hurting her.
“I love you too, sweetie,” I said, wiping away a tear. “And I promise you, things are going to change.”
I meant it. No more excuses. No more putting it off. For Jada’s sake, and for my own, it was time to make a change.
A Visit to Dr. Mills
“Rachel, I’m not going to sugarcoat this,” Dr. Mills said, looking at me over his glasses. “Your weight is putting you at serious risk.”
I nodded, my throat tight. I knew it was bad, but hearing it from the doc made it real.
“High blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease – these aren’t just possibilities anymore. They’re probabilities if you don’t make some changes.”
He rattled off numbers – cholesterol, blood sugar, BMI. Each one a stark reminder of how far I’d let things go.
“But here’s the good news,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s not too late. With the right diet and exercise, you can turn this around.”
I left his office with a stack of pamphlets and a head full of worries. But also, a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.
Making a Change
No more Big Macs. No more super-sized fries. No more excuses. Day one of my new life, and I’m already feeling the struggle.
I laced up my sneakers – when was the last time I wore these? – and headed out for a walk. Just around the block, I told myself. Baby steps.
By the time I got back, I was sweating and out of breath. But I did it. One small victory.
For dinner, I swapped my usual pizza for a salad. Jada looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
“You okay, Mama?” she asked, eyeing my plate suspiciously.
“Never better, baby,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just trying something new.”
Later that night, I pulled out my phone. Time to document this journey. Maybe it’ll keep me accountable.
“Day 1 of my weight loss journey,” I typed. “It’s not going to be easy, but I’m doing this for me and for my girl. Here goes nothing. #NewBeginnings #WeightLossJourney”
I hit post and took a deep breath. No turning back now.
The Journey Begins
Week one, and I’m ready to throw in the towel. Cravings hit like a truck.
But Monica’s got my back, and this gym rat Lisa? She’s a game-changer.
Instagram becomes my battleground. Who knew strangers could be so damn supportive?
Early Struggles
Day 7, and I’m ready to throw in the towel. My body aches in places I didn’t even know existed. The salads aren’t cutting it – I’m craving a burger something fierce.
Last night, I caught myself staring at the McDonald’s drive-thru. The golden arches were calling my name. It took every ounce of willpower not to pull in.
“Just one fry,” the little voice in my head whispered. “No one will know.”
But I knew. And Jada would know. I couldn’t let her down.
I white-knuckled it home, feeling like an addict jonesing for a fix. Is this what withdrawal feels like?
The walks aren’t getting any easier either. I still end up a sweaty, panting mess after just a few blocks. But I’m doing it. Every. Single. Day.
Some days, I wonder if it’s worth it. Then I look at Jada, and I remember why I started this in the first place.
Monica’s Support
“Girl, you look like hell,” Monica said, eyeing me over her coffee cup.
Leave it to my best friend to tell it like it is. That’s why I love her.
“Thanks,” I grumbled. “I feel like it too.”
Monica’s been my rock through this whole thing. When I’m ready to quit, she’s there with a pep talk and a swift kick in the butt.
“Remember that time in college when you thought you couldn’t pass Professor Johnson’s class?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“But you did it,” she continued. “You studied your ass off and aced that final. This is no different. You’ve got this, Rachel.”
She’s right. If I could survive Professor Johnson’s class, I can survive this.
“Now, get your butt up,” Monica said, pulling me off the couch. “We’re going for a walk.”
With friends like these, who needs personal trainers?
Encountering Lisa Thompson
The gym was intimidating as hell. All those fit people, knowing exactly what they’re doing. And then there’s me, feeling like a fish out of water.
That’s when I met Lisa. She must’ve seen the lost look on my face because she came right over.
“First time?” she asked with a friendly smile.
I nodded, probably looking as scared as I felt.
“Don’t worry, we were all beginners once,” she said. “I’m Lisa. Want me to show you around?”
For the next hour, Lisa introduced me to machines I’d never even heard of. She showed me proper form, gave me tips on breathing, and even helped me set up a workout plan.
“You should post about your journey on Instagram,” she suggested. “The fitness community there is super supportive. It really helped me when I was starting out.”
Me? On Instagram? The thought was terrifying. But Lisa made it sound so easy.
“Just be real,” she said. “People appreciate authenticity.”
I left the gym that day with sore muscles, but also with a new friend and a glimmer of confidence.
Visible Progress
Three months in, and holy cow – is that a jawline I see? I did a double-take in the mirror this morning. The changes are subtle, but they’re there.
My clothes are fitting looser. I had to buy a new belt last week. And yesterday, I walked a whole mile without stopping. Small victories, but they feel huge.
I’ve been taking Lisa’s advice, posting about my journey on Instagram. At first, it felt weird, putting myself out there like that. But the support has been overwhelming.
Comments like “You’re inspiring me to start my own journey” and “Keep it up, girl!” keep me going on tough days.
One follower, Beverly Johnson, seems particularly invested. She comments on almost every post, always with words of encouragement.
“Your progress is amazing!” she wrote today. “You’re my daily motivation.”
Me? Someone’s motivation? That’s a trip.
It’s not just about the weight anymore. I’m sleeping better. I have more energy. And Jada? She’s beaming with pride.
“You’re doing great, Mama,”
“You’re doing great, Mama,” she said this morning, giving me a big hug. “I’m proud of you.”
Those words mean more than any number on the scale ever could.
Triumphs and Trials
Sixty pounds down, and I’m flying high. Then bam! Ex-husband shows up, spewing poison.
But these internet folks? They’ve got my back like you wouldn’t believe.
This journey’s about way more than numbers on a scale. It’s about becoming someone new.
Halfway Through
60 pounds down. I can hardly believe it. When I started this journey, it felt like an impossible mountain to climb. Now, I’m halfway up that mountain, and the view is pretty sweet.
I celebrated by treating myself to a new outfit. Walking into that store and picking out clothes I actually liked, not just what fit, was a surreal experience.
The saleswoman did a double-take when I told her my size. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You look much smaller.”
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face all day.
But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. The weight loss has slowed down. Some days, the scale doesn’t budge at all. It’s frustrating as hell.
Dr. Mills says it’s normal, that my body is adjusting. He calls it a plateau. I call it a pain in the ass.
Still, I’m not giving up. I’ve come too far to turn back now.
Terrence’s Criticism
Of all the people I could’ve run into at the grocery store, it had to be Terrence. My ex-husband, the man who walked out on us when Jada was just a baby.
“Well, well,” he said, eyeing me up and down. “Look who finally decided to lose some weight.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. All the confidence I’d built up over the past few months seemed to evaporate in an instant.
“What, you think dropping a few pounds is going to fix everything?” he sneered. “Once a fat girl, always a fat girl.”
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead, I just stood there, frozen, as he walked away with a smug look on his face.
Why did I let him get to me like that? He doesn’t know me anymore. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve accomplished.
But his words stuck with me, echoing in my head long after he was gone.
Rallying Online Support
I don’t know what possessed me to share the Terrence incident on Instagram. Maybe I just needed to vent. Maybe I was looking for validation.
Whatever the reason, the response was overwhelming.
Comments flooded in faster than I could read them. Words of support, encouragement, and righteous anger on my behalf.
“Don’t let that jerk bring you down!” “You’re amazing, Rachel. Keep shining!” “His opinion doesn’t define you. You’ve come so far!”
Beverly Johnson’s comment stood out:
“Rachel, you’re an inspiration. Your ex clearly can’t see the strong, beautiful woman you’ve become. His loss. Keep pushing forward – you’ve got an army of supporters behind you!”
Reading those words, I felt the weight of Terrence’s criticism lifting. These people – strangers, really – saw me for who I am, not who I used to be.
I may have lost weight, but I’ve gained so much more – confidence, strength, and a community that believes in me.
More Than Just Weight Loss
It hit me today – this journey isn’t just about losing weight anymore. It never really was.
Sure, I’ve dropped sizes and my health has improved. But the real change? It’s on the inside.
I catch myself standing taller, smiling more. I’m not hiding anymore. The woman I see in the mirror isn’t just thinner – she’s stronger, happier, more confident.
Jada noticed it too. “You laugh more now, Mama,” she said the other day. “I like it.”
And it’s not just about me. I’m setting an example for Jada. Teaching her about perseverance, self-love, and the importance of health. That’s worth more than any number on a scale.
Then there’s the impact I’m having on others. Beverly Johnson messaged me privately, sharing how my journey inspired her to start her own. She’s lost 20 pounds so far.
“You showed me it was possible,” she wrote. “Thank you for being so real and vulnerable.”
It’s humbling, realizing that by taking care of myself, I’m somehow helping others too.
This journey has taught me so much – about nutrition, exercise, and discipline. But more importantly, it’s taught me about myself. What I’m capable of. What really matters.
Yeah, I’ve lost weight. But I’ve gained a whole new life.
The Final Victory
These last few pounds are putting up one hell of a fight. But I’m not backing down.
Meeting Beverly in person? Talk about surreal. This journey’s touched more lives than just mine.
The finish line’s in sight. And wouldn’t you know it, here comes Terrence again. Karma’s a beautiful thing.
The Last Mile
These last 15 pounds are kicking my butt. It’s like my body is holding onto them for dear life.
I’ve upped my game – more intense workouts, stricter diet. Some days, I feel like I’m back at square one, struggling and sweating.
“It’s normal,” Lisa assured me at the gym. “Your body’s fighting against what it sees as a threat. You just gotta push through.”
Easier said than done. The temptation to give up, to say “good enough,” is strong. I’m healthier than I’ve been in years. Do these last few pounds really matter?
But then I think about how far I’ve come. About Jada, and all the people following my journey. About the promise I made to myself.
So I keep pushing. One more rep. One more mile. One more day of choosing salad over fries.
It’s hard. It’s frustrating. But I’m so close. I can almost taste victory – and it’s sweeter than any junk food.
Meeting Beverly Johnson
I was nervous as hell waiting at the coffee shop. Meeting someone from the internet? What was I thinking?
But when Beverly walked in, all my worries melted away. Her smile was just as warm in person as in her profile picture.
“Rachel!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. “I can’t believe we’re finally meeting!”
For hours, we talked like old friends. About our weight loss journeys, our struggles, our victories. About life, love, and everything in between.
“You have no idea how much you’ve helped me,” Beverly said, her eyes glistening. “Seeing your posts every day, it gave me hope. If you could do it, so could I.”
I was floored. Me, helping someone? It seemed surreal.
“But you’ve helped me too,” I told her. “Your comments, your support – it kept me going on my toughest days.”
As we parted ways, I realized something profound. This journey wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about connection, about community. About inspiring and being inspired.
Reaching the Goal
The moment I stepped on the scale, time seemed to stand still. I held my breath, afraid to look down.
Then I saw it. The number I’d been working towards for so long. I’d done it. I’d actually done it.
I burst into tears right there in Dr. Mills’ office. Happy tears, relieved tears, proud tears.
“Congratulations, Rachel,” Dr. Mills said, beaming. “You’ve not just lost weight, you’ve gained years of healthy living.”
Jada squealed with joy when I told her. Monica insisted on throwing a party. Even Lisa from the gym showed up to celebrate.
As I looked around at all these people who’d supported me, cheered me on, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude.
This victory wasn’t just mine. It belonged to all of us.
Justice Served
I wasn’t expecting to see Terrence again. But there he was, at the same grocery store where he’d mocked me months ago.
This time, though, things were different. I was different.
He did a double-take. “Rachel? You look… good.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steady. “I feel good.”
Terrence shuffled his feet. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said before. It was out of line.”
His apology caught me off guard. But I didn’t need it anymore.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “But I didn’t do this for you. I did it for me and Jada.”
As I walked away, I felt lighter. Terrence’s opinion didn’t matter anymore.
I’d proven to myself what I was capable of. And that was all that mattered.