When Mike and I first met, I was about 35 pounds heavier than I am right now. It was weight I gained throughout high school and carried through into my first year of college. I spent many years overweight. I can’t even put a clever or cute term to describe how I felt, not zaftig or curvy or Rubenesque. I was fat.
Mike suggested that I join his gym since he went there every day. We had similar schedules back then, so it was easy for us to end work or class and head to the gym. We would spend an hour on the elliptical machine with mostly me rambling on and on until the machine would beep and we were done.
I lost about twenty pounds very quickly then frustratingly plateaued. I hired a trainer, ate healthy foods and lost the rest of the weight.
None of this was easy. I missed chugging Strawberry Nesquik and then falling asleep or inhaling a Costco hotdog with reckless abandon. That’s how you eat a Costco hotdog–with reckless abandon. It also helps to have someone stand over you yelling, “GO MONA! GO MONA!” But my body morphed into something normal, a shape I was comfortable living in.
When I visited Saipan that Christmas, I encountered a wide range of reactions. Most people were astonished that I could have lost all that weight, that I wasn’t so fat anymore. And they let me know it with the same zest and enthusiasm as when I was heavier and they’d say, “JESUS CHRIST RAMONA YOU HAVE TO REDUCE!”
When my mother and I visited Suicide Cliff, she was explaining to some American tourists that I was home from college, adding, “She used to be very fat.”
“MOM!” I chided. “They don’t even know me!”
When other family would pay compliments, my mother would chime in with, “She works at a gym!”
Then they’d nod as if yes, that’s why she’s skinnier now. She works at a gym. Because I totally lost weight by osmosis and not by any actual exercise on my part.
I’m at a point where I’m ready to commit to a new lifestyle. HAI LADIEZZZ! Actually, no. No lesbianism, but a dramatic change in diet and exercise. I’m hoping to lost 25 pounds by my 25th birthday without the use of meth or amputation. Actually, amputation doesn’t sound that bad. I mean, if you cut off my arm, that’s what? 15 pounds? I don’t know math, but hey, I’d be closer to my goal!