Hi all!

Today I have another guest blogger, Tsu! We've been "internet friends" for about 7 years (I think we "met" when I was about 16) and she's pretty awesome. She emailed me to tell me about her story and to share it with all of you. She is on the thinner side (she says it herself) but still has had body issues, further showing that ANYONE can have body issues, regardless of size. I hope that you all enjoy it! 

<3 - CFC

Hello, my name is Tsu. I am not overweight and I don't really have body issues mostly because I am the type of person who is rather stubborn and does not care what the world thinks of me. But... I am a 23 year old female; lets get real here, what girl hasn't had some body image issues? We're all pretty damn critical of ourselves. It's like, female nature.

I'm not sharing pictures because I prefer to remain anonymous on the internet, but I will describe myself to you all~! I'm 5'3'' tall and I'm about 140lbs and I'm Asian. Not being conceited, but I'd say I'm relatively pretty; I take good care of my skin so I generally don't have too many blemishes. 

Now, at 5'3'' and 140lbs, if you check a BMI (Body Mass Index) weight chart, is overweight by definition. Let me tell you all something...BMI weight charts can suck it! They aren't the most accurate way to deal with weight because each body is different and what should matter is your body fat percentage. I weigh 140lbs, but I don't look it. My waist is about 28'' and my hips are 32'' or 35'' (I forget) and my bust is 34''. So my U.S pant size is a 3 or 5 (because all brands are a little different) Dress size I'm about a 5/6. So to paint a picture, I'm not overweight; I'm thin and pretty physically fit and I don't have any cellulite. My body fat percentage is low/average.

However, on a side note, I did have this jerk of a doctor once. For a routine physical, she came in barely glanced at me and looked at my chart saw my weight and height and continued to not look up at me and said "For your BMI, you're a little overweight. You should try to keep a healthy diet and exercise a little." I stared at her and waited for the dumb...not nice word...to look up at me and said "I am not fat. I run 5 miles every other day and I keep a pretty strict diet." Yeah, that shut her up fast. So if a doctor ever starts rattling off BMI crap to you, don't let it get you down. 

Okay, onto my story, when I was in middle school, I was very self conscious because...well let's blame puberty because what 13 year old girl in the world hasn't been self conscious? If you weren't lucky you XD rock on~! And despite being thin...I had some thighs...hahaha my best friend and I had some thighs and man is it an ego killer when you squeeze into jeans (the year was 2003 and tight fit bell bottoms were back in and I believe low rise was more and more popular). So basically I had some big thighs and when I tried to fit into jeans, that was always where they got stuck. When I got them all the way up, I think I had practically cut off blood flow to my legs annnd the waist was too big. Omg what a nightmare...and really all that happened was my butt grew into match my thighs better. So I went from that 0-1 to a 3-4. I don't care what size you are, when you go up in pants size you're always like...noooo. So 01->3-4 or like 7-8->9-10 your self confidence is like ~_~ you are fat...go work out fatty. <- my self conscious is harsh lol. But heyy a decent amount of my friends were bigger than me and were like, "Shush you're skinny, don't complain." So I was like...huh...okay :) (what can I say I'm simple minded haha). I was about 110lbs at this time.

Onto high school. I got into Cross Country 3 mile (5k) races. So work outs were everyday of the week running 3-10 miles. Hill days. Sprint days. Two days of weight lifting a week. Invitationals on Sat. So my only day off was Sunday. Now diet wise, I cut out all fast food. I generally only drank water and refused to drink anything else except the occasional Gatorade after a race. Sometimes a V8 juice. Maybe some oj, but mostly water. I tried to eat mostly healthy foods. In mass though...burning the amount of calories I was, I ate healthy foods but a lot of food nonetheless. I could devour two plates of pasta and it didn't matter because I'd be burning it up in no time. I was fat phobic on myself. I didn't run competitively year round. Only from July-February. So I had 4 months off and wouldn't typically run. The occasional long jog for the hell of it at best, but the slightest sign of fat on my stomach...(and I mean slight...I had abs in those days. I little two pack :) ) but yeah the slightest sign of fat sent me into a frenzy of ab workouts. Like, I went nuts. I was so used to being lean that body fat freaked me out. Notably I also developed lactose intolerance in high school. :( I miss ice cream. In high school I stayed about 115-120lbs the whole time. 

Onto college...Well I loved running but injuries took me down senior year. I came in 7th place one race but one mile in my foot had been in pain. I ignored it because I was in 5th place then. I dropped back to 7th but pushed onward. I was running about 7:30 miles in a 3 mile race. I caused stress fractures in my arch. But heyy I got my medal! Hahaha, stupid me. I also went to art college so no sports :( Now initially I tried to run on my own but between school, partying, and whatever else, I eventually fell off that. And I gained weight. I was the heaviest I'd ever been. I went up to 147lbs- I could have cried. But overall, I still wasn't anything close to what most people would consider obese. Again, I knew people who were bigger than me and well I felt bad complaining since I was still smaller. But inside haaated my guts. 

My parents, especially my dad, had no qualms about holding back. My dad would often toss in the "looking a little chubby" kind of comments. Now my parents aren't abusive; my dad's not a total jerk, before anyone gets mad at him. They're honest and I didn't mind the push. Mygo was like "boo, I'm fat" but for me, if people are noticing then I felt I should do something about it. At this time, I was a pretty solid pant size 7. So soooo depressed when my clothing started not fitting. I got an associates degree, left my first college, and moved home for my bachelors. I went into workout mode hard core again. I ran 5 miles every other day or so. I did 200 varied crunches daily and 20 push ups. I had a strict diet of fruits and veggies, low carbs. I drank lots of green tea which, by the way, is great for you for weight loss and general health. I used green tea and coffee to kick start the metabolism I'd destroyed with my poor, broke college student eating habits. But I noticed my weight only reduced to 140lbs despite my pant size going back to a 3. When I lost the weight is when a good handful of people realized I had in fact put weight on in the first place. I had started to complain I was fat and no one believed me. But when I lost it all everyone was like "Wow you look great, you didn't look bad before but I see what you mean when you said you were a little overweight." My dad said something well, funny, but awful (I laughed): "Whew, for a little bit there it looked like you had eaten one of yourself." And heyy, best part was I felt good about myself again. 

Since then I've come to find a better balance. If you notice I went from extreme health nut to eating like total crap in college back to health nut. But once I dropped the weight, I went back to eating a more balanced diet. I allow myself to occasionally indulge in junk food without feeling guilty and the need to go run a couple miles. I'm still not a fan of fast food like McDonald's; it makes me feel sick. But I have a soft spot for Chinese food. I got back into running after college but when old injuries flared up again, I stopped and do other things.

I live by the pants rule. Are my pants getting too tight? Is my stomach (which, by the way, no longer needs to be rock solid with ab muscle) but is my stomach starting to hang over too much? Am I getting the dreaded muffin top? And so I will check back the junk food if I feel I am. Maybe walk a little more. Take the stairs at school over the elevator. Ride a bike. I still eat a pretty healthy diet just because it's better for you than junky processed food. Treat your body good and you'll feel good. I'm not a twig. I'm not obese. I'm somewhere in the middle leaning toward the thin side and overall I think I look good no matter what anyone says! Good luck to you all on accepting your bodies!

-Tsu~!

Hi everyone! 

Today I present to you another awesome guest blog! This one comes from a regular reader of mine who has been an inspiration to  me and I asked her to share her story so that she could inspire even more people. This isn't just a weight loss story, it's a story of a woman that overcame a lot to become the woman that she is today (I teared up when I was editing her post). Photos of her transformation have been provided and are located at the bottom of the blog.

Happy reading! :D

<3 - CFC

My Story
Submission by MrsWoodstock.

I come from a long line of obese people. In the Appalachian culture I grew up in, it’s ALL about food.  We eat when we are happy (weddings). We eat when we are sad (funerals). We eat at holidays. We eat for no reason at all (mom is notorious for "just because" cakes).  It is also the norm in my family to hide feelings, pretend everything is OK when it’s not, submit to your husbands, and to NEVER talk about how you feel. Thus it was the perfect storm that lead to abusing food to medicate the hurt. 

I was born in 1977 and was given a few hours to live.  Then after I spent my first birthday in the hospital, the doctors figured I would be UNDERWEIGHT my whole life.  By the time I was 5, I was healthy but still small.  When I was 8, my parents put a TV in my bedroom and thus the cycle of eating and watching TV began. 

In middle school, I was the fat girl. By high school I was obese; I ate all the time, as long as no-one was watching. I wasn't abused as a kid. I was an only child and a wee bit spoiled.  My dad was OK (at the time) my mom was a working mom; they were strict but fair, but I always felt like I wasn't perfect. Not really because of anything they did or didn't do (that Alanis Morissette song "Perfect" still makes me cry). 

In the fall of 1995, I left for college.  In retrospect, I went to Mom and Dad’s alma mater to make them happy. It was in Tennessee, which is eight hours from home. I was, well for lack of better words, horny and desperate. Being the "fat girl" in school, I had had one boyfriend who swore he loved me and I would do anything for him. Mom and Dad didn't like him and I dumped him (remember this).

I met this guy named Jeff.  He had a thing for my friend and I had a thing for him (first clue, right?). Long story short, she went out with his friend, so I followed him around like a lost puppy doing all that I could to make him like me. We planned a wedding for August 17, 1996. Two days before the wedding, he called and said he couldn't marry me because his parents didn't approve (second clue). Oh yeah, he was already morbidly obese at 6’2” and well over 400 pounds.  I was 5’5” and about 250-275 (I'm not sure exactly). I begged him to marry me (against my parent’s wishes) and we got married in October of 1996. 

We lived in Tennessee away from my family and everything was OK. Looking back now, it wasn't, but it was as good as it got. Third and fourth clues were throwing a vacuum cleaner at me for cooking something wrong  (I did it the Ohio way not the North Carolina way) and talking me out of going to my classes to spend time with him. I should have left him when he didn't want me to go to a close friend’s funeral (fifth clue). We went to see his friends in Arizona and went to a trip to the Smokey Mountains and he made both trips hell on earth (remember that).

Fast forward to 1999: I flunk out of school and we move to Ohio to live with my parents. By this time, I was well over 300 pounds and he was around 550ish. Everything that went wrong was my fault.  Money, housing problems, family problems, and his weight problems are MY fault.  He gives me guilt trips for going on walks with my mom (who lived next to us). He would throw fits if I spent time with my best friend. He did everything In his power to turn me against my best friend/cousin, including but not limited to accusing me of having sex with her. Oh but everything was honky dory on the outside. I ate my depression and my pain. 

In 2009 (the pic of me in the blue shirt) I was over 400 pounds. I’m not sure how much over that to be honest.  He was over 700 pounds. At this time, my biggest nightmare happened: his doctor told him that he could no longer work. He always said if he didn't have to work, he would lose the weight. Yeah, I knew better. I knew he would sit and eat and that's exactly what happened. I was working and he was bedridden (think about what that means for a minute. He literally could NOT get out of bed). I worked (oh yeah, we had adopted a teen and fostered another but that's a whole different story) and took care of him.  Remember, it’s MY fault he never made it In the music biz like his college mate Jay DeMarcus (from Rascal Flatts, I bet you've heard of them). It’s my fault he is fat. It’s my fault we can't have "real kids" (I'm a “bad foster mom” so God won't let me get pregnant). You name it, it was my fault.  I would work, come home, take care of him and since he slept while I was at work, he wouldn't let me sleep. That's just part of the emotional abuse.  I was suicidal. Literally.  

Now remember the guy that swore he loved me that I dumped?  He saved my life. He contacted me.  We spoke on the phone a lot and I spilled to him all that my husband was doing to me. He made me feel like I was WORTH something. He reminded me of who I was before being torn down. He literally talked me down off of a bridge and got me to stand up to my husband and tell my family what was going on. Oh, and helped me get a better job (remember that). Then he broke my heart the way I broke his. 

On September 16, 2010 I gave my husband a note saying he either had to go to a nursing home or have his sister come and get him.  He had his sister come get him. I filed for divorce a month later after our adopted son turned 18. 

In October, I started that new job. I joined Curves and started working out there 5 days a week. I kept to the 1,500 calories they suggested and I got down from 400+ pounds to 298 in a little under a year.  I was feeling great. I was making it on my own. I was happy and I was losing weight while working delivering pizza.  I was finally happy, for the first time in my adult life! I dated a couple of guys. Neither one worked out and I gave up on dating. I was NEVER going to get married again.

Famous last words.  I met Jason in February at the new job. He got on my every last nerve. Then I got a flat in March and he came to my rescue (I CAN change a tire but my jack wouldn't work). I was hooked.  We went out a time or two and he moved in by April (my family was NOT happy).  We decided to move to another city in July. A week after we decided to move, I found out I was pregnant, something that doctors said would never happen.  Well the doctor told me my hormones fixed themselves when I lost that 100 pounds. 

We moved, in April 2012 at OSU I had my daughter via emergency C-section.  My weight was a major complication. My daughter wasn't breathing and my blood pressure plummeted. I weighed 350 the day I had her. We are both healthy and happy now. 

We got married in January and I was stuck at 325.  The depo shot I was taking for birth control was preventing me from losing more weight. and to be honest, I wasn't trying too hard. My husband suggested we go to Myrtle Beach in August for our honeymoon and I agreed in terror. I hadn't worn a swimsuit in public since high school.

I got serious, got off depo, and started working out using videos from the internet and library. I lost inch after inch after inch, but the pounds stayed. I realized muscle is denser, so I focused on inches, not pounds.  I use My Fitness Pal to count calories and I'm doing good. I have times that I plateau, but I've learned to push through. It’s hard some days, especially when those flashbacks hit and old eating habits come flooding back. But I know I can and will do it. I am currently 291 pounds.  

What ever happened to my 770 pound ex-husband?  In February, around his 40th birthday, he had Gastric Bypass surgery (I always told him he wasn't a good candidate for it because I know his habits). In March, he passed away from complications. 

A WORD FROM CFC: This is a blog post from one of my childhood friends, herein known as Primrose. She is someone who I personally have always considered to be skinny. However, everyone views their body differently. Reading this has made me realize something- I'm just like the people that I complain about. I say "Oh, you're not fat" when someone smaller than me says that they have a weight problem. I have learned a lot from her input and I believe that you, my readers will too. 


I'll let her take it from here! :D

My struggle with fitness, food, and body acceptance

*NOTE: This is not meant to discourage anyone from sending in pictures

Hello fellow CFC followers,

As you know, our friend CFC recently put out a call for pictures and blog posts from us. I am very pleased by the opportunity to connect with this community. You guys seem like a bunch of warm, supportive people, so I have decided that I would like to share my story with you. I hope you will feel welcome enough to share your stories, too. I know CFC would be delighted to read them.

I am going to start by talking a little about my shape. I have never been obese, but I haven’t been a twig since childhood. For most of my adult life (by this I’m referring to height, which for me is probably starting at around age 14 or 15; I’m the same age as CFC, so I’ve been 5’3” for a while), I have been at least 10 pounds overweight, but probably spent most of it closer to the 20 pound mark, and am currently around 30 pounds overweight. While I am a ways off from obesity, I am also far from being in good health. But I’ll talk more about that later.

I need to explain a little about what an additional 10-20 pounds looks like on my frame. I have proportionately long, slender limbs and a relatively compact torso. When I am carrying extra weight, I am a classic pear, carrying most of it in my lower body region. It may sound strange, but with a body that appears slender from the waist up, the weight gain is not as obvious on my body as it might be on someone else with a different body type. Right now it’s very apparent as I’m a little too curvy, but in the early stages, not as much.

It’s an odd place to be—at least the 10-20 pound range. It may not sound like 10-20 pounds is a huge deal, but for me it was the difference between being able to wear those low-rise jeans that were so stylish in eighth and ninth grade, and not being able to wear them because of a slight lower belly pooch. I don’t mean to sound superficial; I know that being in good health is not the same as fitting into a certain size. If I were in excellent shape I would not wear those jeans now (what were we thinking?). I am just trying to give people a mental picture of what I have experienced.

Often I would encounter people who either trivialized my weight issue or who did not believe I had one; or if they did, they would pretend (at least to my face) that it did not exist. People would say to me, “What are you talking about? You’re not fat,” possibly to bolster my low self-esteem, or maybe they honestly did not think I looked unhealthy. Heavier people would scoff at me and insist they would be happy to be my size and shape. I would feel chagrined and immediately drop the subject.

This is why I like CFC’s website; all shapes and sizes are welcome, not just those who weigh more than or less than I do. We may not understand exactly what it is to be another shape, but we are here to support each other in our mutual quest to become healthier individuals.

When I was 19 I decided I was unhappy enough with myself to start working out. I knew I wasn’t healthy, though I can honestly say I was more concerned with looking better. When we are at home, my family is mostly sedentary. My grandmother and my mom also believe that love can be conveyed by food, which is not good when you’re trying to eat smaller portions, or when you accidentally take too much. I learned that making change for the better (i.e. listening to the urge to stop feeding yourself when you cease to be hungry, even if it means having to throw food away) can sometimes upset other people in your life, but it’s still something you have to do for you. They will eventually understand. At least that is what I assume. I wasn’t eating portions like that long enough to find out.

I would like point out that though I was eating smaller portions than I had been, I was also not nearly as healthy as I could have been. I worked out five days a week at the gym, doing an hour of cardio each time. This was all I really changed about my lifestyle. I didn’t alter my deplorable eating habits (except for eating less), and when I say I had bad eating habits, I mean it. I still have bad eating habits. I have a pronounced sweet tooth, am a picky eater, and just love me some carbs. White rice and potatoes are two of my favorite foods. Oh, and also spaghetti. I do not like nasty wheaty bread, because it tastes like grainy cardboard. Wheaty burritos are the worst. I don’t like bananas, oranges, or grapes. Yes, my relationship with food is not the greatest. On the bright side? I also don’t usually like pizza, which may be good for me, because I’m sure pizza is not. However, when left to my own devices, I have been known to eat chocolate cake for breakfast. Sorry, body, but we must adopt a new mantra: Must. Resist. The. Cheetos. It’s for your my own good.

So no wonder my lowest weight was 103 and I was still furiously slapping cellulite smoothing patches onto my thighs and wondering why I still couldn’t get my tiny paunch to disappear completely. It’s probably why my mom accuses me to this day of being pre-diabetic (type II diabetes runs rampant in our family, so that statement is not as far-fetched as I’d like to think it is).

At this point, I was the skinniest I’d ever been (yes, folks, I was practically gleeful about my thigh gap, before thigh gaps were a fad), but I was still insecure about my body. I still saw cellulite clinging resolutely to the backs of those no-longer-touching thighs. Part of it is because I didn’t give it my all and change what I was eating, and part of it is because I can be a perfectionist (weird, I know). I’ve just always been very critical of myself. CFC often preaches body acceptance at any stage, and it’s one of the things I respect most about her, but it’s also one of the things I struggle with. It's the reason I'm not comfortable sharing a picture of myself with you at the moment. I don’t know if I’ll ever wake up and be able to say, “I love my body,” regardless of how fit I become, but I believe I could come closer to acceptance.

Not sharing a photo of myself,
Primrose