Healing Heart

I placed my puffy, engorged ankles onto the metal scale. As the number started to calculate, I couldn’t help but think:

Oh my god, you fatty. You’re so fat, you’re gonna break the scale. You weigh as much as an elephant.

I tried to remember the last time I had done this, but my mind went blank. I watched as the number appeared and revealed a whopping number: 357.8 pounds. It shocked me. 

How could you have let this happen?

Of course I knew how. I thought about all my late night trips to McDonald's, Wendy's, Taco Bell, and my daily midnight treat-- chocolate cookie dough ice cream. I thought about all the greasy, fried, gluttonous food that I had consumed over the past fifteen years which caused me to bloat and grow like an expanding balloon. 

I thought about all of the stares that came along with being a large human. All of the snide comments and snickers I received in public. I wasn’t deaf. I knew what people thought about me. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m just a big, fat loser who lives at home with his mother.

I thought about the constant, dull pain I felt in my ankles and hips whenever I stood up. Or how much harder I had to work to pick something up off the floor. And how I waddled like a penguin whenever I walked and physically couldn’t jog if I tried. My own poor life choices had led me to this moment. 

Then I thought about my “incident” from last month. I was out driving to CVS to pick up my mother’s medication and all of a sudden, I felt an extremely sharp pain in my chest and right arm. It lasted for a few minutes, so I parked in the parking lot and called my mother. She asked me a whole bunch of questions, like if I was sweating (yes), nauseous (yes), dizzy (yes). Then, she started panicking and told me to call 911 and she would come meet me at the hospital. It was then that my thoughts halted. My brain became focused on one word: heart attack. I remember telling myself a long time ago that I would never let my physical health go to shit. And now, I was having  a heart attack.

I recall staying in the hospital for a few days. The doctors gave me some heavy medication-- the 911 operator told me to take aspirin when I was in the car, but I didn’t have any on me then. They gave me small meals with lots of fruits and vegetables which often left me feeling very deprived. 

Before I left, the doctor instructed me that if I didn’t want to die within the next five to ten years, I needed to start dieting and exercising. He also gave me some pamphlets concerning weight loss and healthy living, which I brought home and never looked twice at. And I continued to eat fried, greasy, salty, and sugary foods whenever I pleased and I didn’t feel any different. But then the new year started to creep around the corner and I met a woman named Linda. She just moved into the neighborhood and I introduced myself while going out to grab the mail. She was breathtaking. 

After I met her, I decided that enough was enough. I needed to start now or else I would just stay the same old lazy, couch potato Jerry. I would get another heart attack or possibly die. 

So, on the first day of the new year, I started off small. I put on some jogging clothes and stepped outside. 

This is it. You can do this. Don’t push it. Just take a few steps.

This is what I told myself when I started to walk down my driveway, past my neighbors’ houses, and down the adjacent street. After a minute or so, I felt my ankles crush under my weight and I decided to take a break. I could feel tiny sweat beads forming on my forehead. Jesus, I need to lose weight.

After my brief walk, I went inside and checked my Fitbit and discovered I walked about 2,098 steps. That was less than half a mile. I sighed deeply, telling myself that this was the beginning and half a mile was better than nothing. 

The next day, I decided that it was time to take a trip to the grocery store. When I arrived, I tended to my Mom’s grocery list:

Mint ice cream

Barbecue chips

Orange juice

Oreo's

Mayonnaise

Captain Crunch

Curly fries

White bread

Cranberry Juice

Then, I went into the produce section of the store, and took my time picking out some fruits-- I chose strawberries, bananas, peaches. When I reached the vegetable aisle, I struggled to find one that I liked. In the end, I picked out a few carrots and a bag of green beans. I also picked up a package of chicken breasts, ground beef, and turkey meat. 

That night, I made myself some baked chicken, brown rice, and green beans. No juice or soda. Just water. Then, I sat down on the couch with my Mom as she stared dully at the television screen. On her lap, she had a large plate of microwave-heated mashed potatoes, fried chicken, a piece of cornbread. I glanced down at her food and gulped.

“You want a bite?” she looked over at me and asked.

Yes! Yes!! YES!!!!! Take a bite!!! Take the whole plate! Do it, do it, do it. 

I hesitated. I wanted nothing more than to take a mighty bite out of her Kentucky Fried Chicken, but I knew I had to restrain myself.

“No, I’m okay, Mom,” I said while gritting my teeth.

“Okay. Are you gonna have more food?” she asked, staring down at my restricting plate of food. I shook my head nonchalantly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Ma. I’m… I’m trying to lose weight.”

She started to laugh. I stared at her, irked. Then, she stopped.

“Oh, you’re serious. I’m sorry, Jerry. It’s just… I’m surprised, that’s all,” she replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks, Ma,” I said sarcastically.

“Aw, come on, Jerry. I’m happy for you, really. I’m proud of you for wanting to change,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. I thanked her and we sat there, continuing to watch Guy Fieri’s show, Diners Drive-ins and Dives. I watched him eat large mouthfuls of a juicy meatball grinder at an Italian sandwich shop in New Jersey. It wasn’t long before my mouth started to drool. Once I noticed, I quickly wiped my face.

“Ma, can we please watch something else?” I asked, irritated.

“Yes, fine. Here, you pick,” she said, handing me the remote.

My dinner felt very unsatisfying to my appetite, but I knew I needed to cut down from what I normally ate. Then, I watched some television with my Mom, but the whole time I couldn’t help but want to get a snack. My stomach started to grumble loudly.

The first night, I went to bed feeling unsatisfied and very, very hungry. I tossed and turned throughout the night, thinking and thinking.

Go get some ice cream. Or a pudding. It’s not that big of a deal. Come on, what are you waiting for? You know you want to, you big fatty. 

After a while, the voice in my head became too powerful and I couldn’t ignore it any longer, So, I got up from bed and went into the kitchen. I opened a kitchen cabinet and snatched up a bag of Doritos chips. Then, I ate them ravenously, feeling like a raccoon eating out of the garbage on someone’s porch. I ate several large handfuls, ignoring the dryness in my mouth and enjoying the salty, cheesy flavor from the chips. Before I knew it, I ate half of the bag. Then, I shoved the bag back into the cabinet and sat down. And I started to cry.

This is what you get, fatty. This is your punishment. You deserve this.

That night, I went to bed feeling ashamed. But I told myself that I had to fight those urges as much as I possibly could. I thought about all of the reasons why I wanted to lose weight. The main one being for my health, but also so that I could feel good about myself for once in my life. And for Linda, obviously.

**

The first week was the hardest. I struggled to eat smaller, more nutritious meals while my mother ate the same old garbage. I craved sweets during the night, but learned to control myself by eating healthier ones like apples with peanut butter or strawberries with sugar. My body also ached constantly, but I forced myself to step outside every day and walk. 

A week later, I woke up feeling better than I had in years. I went to brush my teeth and noticed my stomach didn’t look as wide and bulging as it did before. Intrigued, I took off my shirt and saw my bare stomach. I was sure that I had lost weight. So, I hopped on the scale and weighed myself. I took a deep breath and waited for it to calculate. This time, I didn’t hear that evil, controlling voice in my head. 

Then, I saw the number 325.4. My eyes widened. 

I lost 30 pounds. I did it. All by myself. 

I started to do a happy dance in the bathroom.

“Ma, come in here!” I called out. 

“What? What’s wrong, Jerry?” she asked before entering the room.

“Nothing! I just lost 30 pounds!” I announced.

“That’s great, honey. I’m very proud of you!” she said with a smile. This time, I knew she meant it.

**

A month later, I felt confident enough to start jogging. So, I did it. I put on my jogging clothes-- now they were a couple sizes too big for me-- and I started. That day, I passed by Linda’s house and noticed she was sitting outside, planting flowers in her front yard. I slowed down and waved to her and she waved back. My healing heart skipped a beat. Then, I sped up and didn’t look back.