Diary of a Former Chubby Trainer/Nutrition Coach

Diary of a Former Chubby Trainer/Nutrition Coach

Diary of a Former Chubby Trainer/Nutrition Coach—

Chubby, you say? What does chubby mean? To me, it meant that I was slightly overweight, not a ton, but enough. Six years ago, chubby. Six months ago, fat.

2013 – chubby

2018 – fat

But how? The excuses got me. My build is bigger. I have a lot of muscle. I carry my weight well, thank God. I don’t really feel big. My clothes fit pretty well. I don’t look that bad. My hormones made me gain weight. I don’t eat enough, probably. My metabolism is messed up. I’m just meant to be this way. Soon, I will lose weight.

Those were my excuses and I am sure I had plenty more. As a fitness trainer I felt there was more pressure for me to look the part. Even though I am just as strong as I was when I was chubby, that really doesn’t mean shit for a lot of people, including myself. I was judgmental. I judged myself and put a lot of pressure on myself. Just like we all are, I was my own worst critic. Cliche, I know, but true. As a nutrition coach, I mean come on!!! How could I not figure this out?

I had enough. I was done. The excuses were paper thin. They didn’t hold light or water. The darkness needed to go. I needed to survive. I needed to get healthy and I knew right then I wasn’t, even though I thought so. What an idiot. What a fat pathetic idiot. Don’t like my self talk? Quit reading. It’s the way it was and what finally started the snowball rolling for change.

I am usually a really positive person, but that was my low. I had to get there in order to move forward, in order to succeed.

I hired a coach. Because everybody needs a coach at one time or another in their lives. 

Several months previous to my Day One, I remember going to the doctor and getting procedures done because I felt like crap and thought something serious was wrong. I had some scans and a colonoscopy. I got cholesterol shamed by the nurse and I could tell she was judging my weight. I told the doc that I just kept gaining weight and told him I didn’t know why. I got that look. You know the one. The one that makes you never want to go back.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with me except that I was fat. 

Despair. You’ve felt it, I bet. Feeling like you have tried everything and nothing works. Feeling like there is no hope and you are just going to be fat forever. But I kept making the excuses, because the fear was crippling. What fear? The fear of failing? How much worse could it get? The fear of looking good. That can be a real fear. Usually a counter to that is self-sabotage. I know I did a lot of that. The fear of succeeding. The fear. I was afraid. I knew I wouldn’t be in control. But in reality, it was all in my control. Me. I was the one who controlled everything. Nobody else. That is the beauty of changing, it was up to me. Nobody could do it for me. Just me. I was the only one who could change. I was the only one who could put in the hard work.

So I did.