I’m fat obese. I weigh 222 pounds with a BMI of 40.2%, down from the 53% BMI and 234 pounds that rocked my world two months ago. Now that I’ve thrown it out into the universe for the world to recoil in disgust from, I can release it and move on to Phase Two, whatever that may be. My fitness downfall is always due to a lack of planning. As an “ideas” person, I’m great at brainstorming an idea, implementing it and handing it off to others to complete. I can’t do that with my health.

I’ve never denied the fact that I’ve steadily gained weight. I just never knew, until a few months ago, that I was considered obese. Seeing the word and having it apply to me catapulted me into action. I refuse to be in the “obese” range by my 38th birthday in May 2012. I might still be plump as I work my way to a healthier me, but I sure as hell won’t be obese.

Growing up, I was always the thin girl. Nicknames like “Sticks,” “Bones” and “Legs” followed me well into my 20s when, at almost 5’7”, I wore a size 4/6. In my misguided mind, it was just understood that I would always be healthy and fit, until I wasn’t.

The first time I took notice of my weight was after I had my oldest daughter, Lauren.

It never occurred to me during pregnancy that my body wouldn’t magically shrink to its pre-pregnancy weight. Throw in a C-section and a painful attempt at Tae-Bo too soon afterwards, and I’d written off post-pregnancy exercise. My weight kept creeping up until I couldn’t wear any of my clothes, and I shopped for new ones rather than exercise. My then husband, an avid runner and marathoner, was always helpful in trying to find ways to help me jump-start my activity levels and, finally, I took his advice and it worked! I had my “eureka” moment.

I would get up before work and run on The National Mall with a co-worker some days and on other days, I’d be on my elliptical the moment I walked in the door after work. Add lots of water and smaller portions (we weren’t big on junk food, thankfully) and I was back to my normal size in about six months. Living and working in D.C., it was easy to stay fi t because I would walk almost everywhere and rarely had to drive.

Then came the divorce. You know how some people lose a lot of weight when they’re going through a divorce? I didn’t have that problem. I didn’t begin pigging out. I just stopped exercising and spent too many evenings out with friends in Arlington, beer in hand, trying to put the divorce out of my mind. It was the fi rst time I ever lived on my own and was 100% responsible for all aspects of my life, and my health took a back seat.

Steadily, since 2004 and with the arrival of my second daughter, Hannah, in 2008, my weight has crept up. Despite many fitness jumpstarts, I’m fatter than ever and weigh almost double what I should. My knees hurt for days aft er I run and at times they pop when I’m walking up the stairs. I got my butt kicked in a 5k race last January by a 75 year-old (he beat me by 15 minutes!) and I was so inconsistent with my exercise over a six-month period that I was unable to run the half marathon I signed up for in June.

With those thoughts in mind, along with a renewed vigor to STFU and do what I say I’m going to do, I’ve been taking kickboxing and step & sculpt classes at the gym regularly and focusing on what I’m putting into my body. It’s not easy, and I’m not interested in “quick fixes.” Th e numbers on the scale haven’t dropped as quickly as I’d like, but I’ve noticed a diff erence in my energy level and stamina. I don’t feel that I’ve reached the “eureka” moment that I did years ago, but it will come. I’ve set mini-goals for myself and I focus less on my size and more on cardio and weight training consistency for the time being.

I’ve looked over these words at least 30 times in the past hour or so and wondered if I have the courage to reveal this side of myself. I’ve never been depressed about my weight (maybe I should be), nor do I lack self-confidence because of my size. I’ve always known that I am comprised of more than my weight and physical appearance. I am, however, disappointed that I’ve allowed myself to reach this level of blatant disrespect for my health and well-being. Never one to back down from a challenge, having these words in print for all to see, I have no choice but to reclaim my physical self.

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KENDRA ALLANSON is a writer and the former owner of Kendra's Cookies in Front Royal, VA. When not spending time with her family Kendra can be found photographing the ambiance of Virginia wineries, taking road trips, cooking, and sipping bourbon while brainstorming the "next great idea". This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it