By the middle of my sophomore year of college, I was in the worst physical shape of my life. A mix of drinking, the freedom to eat whatever and whenever I pleased, and my mom's cancer prognosis led to rapid weight gain and plummeting self-confidence. Every day I dragged myself to class wearing shapeless, oversize clothing, and avoided eye contact with my peers — I was genuinely unhappy with my appearance. The weight wasn't just burdening my body; it was affecting my mind as well. I felt intense anxiety and self-consciousness, and social situations that I used to flourish in became intimidating and difficult to maneuver.
My rock bottom
One night when I was getting ready for a friend's birthday dinner, I realized the extent of my dissatisfaction. As I thumbed through my closet feeling uninspired by every article of clothing, I realized that style, something I had always cherished, no longer excited me. It felt out of reach. I was not comfortable with the body I was dressing, and that realization was enough for me to begin making major lifestyle changes immediately.
I first had to accept that losing weight wasn't going to be an easy task, and that was why it was going to be worth it. Working toward anything takes unwavering willpower, strength, and sacrifice: weight loss was no different. Once I decided I wanted to change, a game-plan fell into place.