Chapter 1
Finding My Strong
The Swan Song of the Fat Girl
“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”
—Missy Franklin
I’ve always been a trendsetter. My mom says I was a Punky Brewster type before anyone even knew who Punky was. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum. For example, if every other kid was screaming for chocolate ice cream, I would inevitably want blue moon—even if chocolate might have actually sounded better at the time.
I think most of it had to do with being a morbidly obese child. When you have that sort of problem, you either have to fit in or try to stand out in a way that makes it seem like you’re confident, different, and bold. I used to think that maybe people would think I had made the choice to be fat on purpose; yeah, that was me, fat by choice, a trendsetter. At 12 years old I weighed nearly 300 pounds and stood almost six feet tall, so I already stood out like Mike Tyson in a neon pink scuba suit at a librarian convention. At that point why not twirl a baton while tap dancing and whistling Dixie? Everyone was already looking at me, right? At least that’s how it felt inside my preteen body. I was often the biggest person in the room, so I might as well put bells on, too. I was going to be big and different, unique, a direct contradiction to the life I was handed. I was going to figure out some way to make being fat look cool. If my looks weren’t going to get me in the door, I was going to make damn sure my shining personality and humor would. What flavor was my soul? Blue Moon.
I can’t remember a time I ever felt strong; my legs always felt tired, my arms wouldn’t support me ... I was always just weak and slow. Slower than slow—I was part sloth. I remember in gym class—maybe 2ndor 3rdgrade—we had to pull ourselves up a rope, a standard test in public school gym class. But for me it was a task the teacher knew she could not ask me to attempt. I was a manatee in gym class.
I never had enough rest, to the point that my body always just felt fatigued. Even at a time in my life when I was very active, I always felt like I was pushing my body to the point of near-collapse. Even just a few years ago, when I was traveling several times a month, I was frequently at the point of complete physical exhaustion.
Often, after doing a book signing or reader event, I would get invitations from readers and fellow authors to attend after-parties, and even though it always sounded fun, my body just wouldn’t let me. My body was a mess, and I wasn’t even thirty-five. So many nights after these events I would just cry while my husband consoled me, telling me it was okay and that readers would understand. But would they? Or would they just resign themselves to the fact that I was struggling physically? Did they know that I would much rather have a different body, one that would carry me to wherever all the fun was? How couldtheyunderstand when evenIcouldn’t? As my anger and pity consumed me, I would usually order room service, because the food would comfort me even when my husband’s loving words couldn’t. The cheesecake was always right.
There was one brief moment in my 20s when I did feel a tiny bit strong for about two seconds. I was a karaoke DJ at a bunch of local bars. I had a pretty decent show following, so people would come drink and dance and listen to me sing. This was right after I had my first big weight loss, so I was feeling pretty badass about myself. I’m not sure I was actually physically strong in any way shape or form—the emotional strength I was trying to portray was probably mostly just crap in a fancy package. I was still a mess—I was just a mess in a smaller size. There was one night in particular when I was feeling especially rough and tough, wearing a pretty tiny dress and black butt kicker boots. One of the men attending my show decided he was going to rough up his girlfriend in front of me and the rest of the bar patrons. I sat there for about two minutes before I jumped down from my booth, grabbed a pool stick from the wall, and stomped toward the gentleman, ready to beat him away from his girlfriend. Apparently the illusion of my strength was convincing enough that he let her go and he walked out.
That superhero moment felt pretty good—heck, it felt strong, it feltamazing. But deep down I knew even then that it was just theillusionof strength; what would real, authentic strength feel like? How would it look? How could that happen? Somehow I knew I had to wait a bit longer until I’d get my first real taste of it, but I knew it was coming—it was really just a question of when.
Now, there’s a very real difference between physical and emotional strength, right? Let’s just be honest about that. These things are both important but they are, at the core, dynamically different things. There have been plenty of times when I’ve felt emotional strength, such as when I gave birth to my children, or when I packed up my bags and left my abusive ex-husband; these were things that required emotional strength, but not necessarily physical strength.
In retrospect, it was almost as if my emotional strength was pushed to the limits throughout my life, but physically I wasn’t really ever challenged. In fact, I didn’t even think of myself as possessing any physical strength. At times in my life I questioned if I might be able to do something physical, only to give up easily. I remember trying to go for a run once and making it around the block before realizing it was a stupid idea—there’s just no reason for a fat girl to run. Running is for humans who sport, and Idon’tsport.
My parents weren’t real physically active people. I never thought of my father as weak, but he wasn’t lifting weights or running. He moved if it was required for work, but he didn’t pursue strength as a lifestyle; it just wasn’t part of our lives.
Even when I was dancing, I didn’t feel like I was ever really pushing my body or demanding more from myself. The teachers would look at me like I had some sort of disability and, really, I did, because even though I was a pretty accomplished dancer—I won several competitions—I just wasn’t ever pushing my body. I would dance for a bit and then take a break, watch and learn and repeat steps, then take a break again. I never felt like an athlete when I was dancing. I didn’t feel strong—mostly I just felt like a participant. It was fun, but it was a rare occurrence if I ever broke a sweat. And I do meanever. Part of me wishes I could go back and try that all over again. What might have I achieved if I had pushed myself beyond those limitations?
What if someone had seen an athlete in me?
What if I had seen an athlete in myself?
When I got pregnant with my second daughter, body strength was honestly the furthest thing from my mind. I was a mother of five other children, a wife, a daughter, aNew York Timesbestselling author, and we were traveling all over the world signing books. Needless to say, it was a pretty busy life. I think at that point I had totally resigned myself to always having a body that would be the opposite of strong. I know some people might argue that it took physical strength for me to birth my children, but I guess in my mind that’s something most human females can do ... our bodies are naturally built to do it.
The kind of strength I was looking for was something different, something that, at the time, felt very unnatural to me. I wasn’t even sure what it was or how I would get there, I just knew I wanted to be there so badly that nothing else really mattered. It was all connected to my health journey, and to my precious daughter. I needed to be strong not only for me, but for her, too. God was whispering in my ear to find it, to seek physical strength. Learn what my body can do, what it was created to do: run, push, pull, jump, and stretch.
And, finally, I think I was ready.
I needed to be mentally and emotionally ready to make the changes required to start my journey. When I was pregnant with my youngest daughter, something just clicked for me. I was sick of feeing sick—I wanted more from my body, I wanted to be as healthy and as strong as I could possibly be. At that point I didn’t even knowwhatwas possible, but I just knew that I had to try for more.
I also think it takes a lot of strength to stay the course, to consistently want to make those healthy choices day after day. It isn’t always easy, and you have to let go of the shackles holding you back. But you also have towantto be healthier and stronger, and you know hanging out with those old unhealthy habits is liking hanging out with people who bring you down.
Looking back, I think so much of my health struggle was simply a story in my head, comforting because it was familiar. Since I can’t even remember a time when I felt “normal” or healthy, the idea of healthy was scary for me.
It might have been scary for you to even purchase this book, because it means there’s a chance you might have to admit who you are, and you might try and fail. You might think there’s no way you could ever really be strong—maybe you don’t even know what that means in terms of your body and your health.
Ladies, I understand. This was scary for me too. My only reassurance for you is that, although this journey might not ever get any easier, you WILL get stronger. Day by day your body will do things that will amaze you. You will learn to love and appreciate it because, just like when you crossed the finish line after running your first 5K, you will feel empowered. When you’re able to do some of the strength exercises shown later in this book, you will continue to be surprised by what is inside of you, and by the strength you possess.
I know where we’re headed, and it’s going to be an amazing ride! This beautiful bird is going to soar; this lion is going to roar! We can do this, together. Let go of the “I can’t” and start chanting with me: “I can, I can, I can ... I will, I will, I will ... I am, I am, I AM!”
This is our new song, ladies.
In my mind I see that young girl, dressed in all her mixed-pattern glory, smiling at me, full of spunk and fire. I bet you can feel your inner little girl rooting for you, too. Let’s do this. Let’s get our strong on, and let’s bring our sons and daughters with us.
Get Your Strong On!
