Fat?  How does a heroin addict need to lose weight?  Isn’t it the opposite?  One would think!  Descending into the landfill I remember thinking, “eh at least I will be super thin!”  Joke was on me.  When a person goes from being extremely active to dormant, the body reacts unkindly.  Like countless others I am my harshest critic.  Perhaps the mental fog prevented me from seeing the severity of just how LARGE and unhealthy I truly had become.

I had reached a point in my life where the scale read a number I never believed would be connected with me.   Honestly, I held my jeans up and thought to myself, “this should be a crime.”  I ate junk while using and while I slept my life away on suboxone, I ate some more.  Please note I hate suboxone.  It is nothing more than a substitution for escaping reality.  Once I quit abruptly it was a whole week before the inevitable relapse happened.  To each its own.  Back to those abnormally large jeans, I looked in horror.  I did not cry, I knew what needed to be done.  There was NO time for tears.

I called my favorite man in the world and said, “What is that guy’s name you keep telling me about?”  My father had been telling me about a local St. Louisan whom he would listen to on the radio.  He really seemed to like him because he had helped a local catholic priest lose weight.  At this point the man could have helped the devil himself.  If the guy could help was all that mattered.  I had crossed the threshold of fat to a whole other world.

My appointment was set.  This man has a very Italian name.  I was not expecting what came walking out of the office door.  My stereotype of a fat, Italian doctor was stomped on.  This guy is not a doctor.  I was skeptical and desperate.  I was immediately weighed and then questioned.  This guy really had me puzzled.  First question, “Why do you want to lose weight?”  I remember looking at him and thinking is he serious?  I know he isn’t blind.  The entire process felt like an awkward interview for a job you don’t want, but need.  Luckily, I got the job!  I was to report several days later with additional instructions and a check.

The state of being desperate is a powerful thing.  It can destroy you or move you to victory. Finally, triumph was in the horizon.  That Italian from South City is one of the kindest souls I have had the honor of meeting.  When I reported to duty for my instructions I was a nervous wreck.  I was rejoining life in all aspects.  I was coming out of hibernation.  I burst into tears in his office and then started laughing.  He immediately said, “Whats going on?  Am I dealing with a crazy person here?  You just started crying now your laughing?”  I laughed more.  This might work!  I appreciated his blunt question.  Truthfully, I felt bat shit crazy at that moment and like a five year old at the same time.  I apologized and quickly told him; “Look, I essentially checked out of life for some time.  Just recently I have decided to rejoin and now I’m a bit overwhelmed.”  The magic plan was given to me and I left.  I followed through and some of the anger slowly began to ooze from my pores.

Years later here I am.  My weight is exactly where my doctor wants it.  Six pounds less.  Bragging rights!  Personally, I think my doctor likes people a little larger than we should be.  I forgot how much I love physical activity.  Running was my drug long ago.  Science does not lie when they say exercise is a natural anti-depressant.  I’m far from a health fanatic, but I always notice the difference when I put garbage in my body vs. clean food.  When I haven’t worked out or been very active I notice a shift in my mood.  So it is simple to keep the anger away and the mind right, do what needs to be done; MOVE, eat right and never stop eating cake.