For the longest time, I let what I could and couldn’t do define who I was. I was someone who didn’t like to shop, preferred to watch things on T.V. instead of going to a sports game or movie, didn’t like concerts or amusement parks, wasn’t a fan of swimming or the beach, would rather hang out at home in comfortable clothes instead of getting dolled up and hitting the town, and was afraid to fly. I often hesitated to commit to certain plans with friends or family, claiming to have a conflict, and even took control of plans to calm any anxiety I had about where we were going or what we were doing. My identity became very small, very limited. I still had a lot of friends and a lot of opportunity to participate in a variety of events, but, to me, the realistic choices were few and far between.

Although I may have not realized it at the time, nothing I was saying or claiming to be was true. The truth was: everything about me- my identity- was controlled by what I perceived to be something I could do (hang out at home in sweats with friends) or the millions of things I couldn’t (fit into certain chairs or tables, wear a swimsuit, find a cute outfit that fit, or fit into the seat on an airplane). After a while, it became easier to do nothing than to try to do anything. And even though I probably knew the truth on some level, I played it off as just being a “laid-back person who prefers the easy and casual to the superficial nightlife and overemphasis on appearances.”

On a conscious level, I didn’t really know this was happening. Or, maybe I did, but I forgot. I was never trying to be fake. To the contrary, I considered myself to be a real and genuine person who cared to be honest and of good character. I guess the reality was I had a secret, I had a problem, and I didn’t know how to fix it so I did what I could to cover it up. And I highly doubt I was alone.

In this world, there are real and natural limits that prevent overweight people from participating in a lot of things. Those at a healthy weight probably never think about these things, and likely take for granted the fact that they don’t have to. For the rest of us, we are painfully aware of weight limits, how wide a chair is, whether we are going to be able to get an arm rest down on a plane or in a movie theater, if the seatbelt will fit, whether there’s enough room in the booth at a restaurant, or if the clothing store even carries the sizes that we need. We live in fear of humiliation and often protect ourselves by passing on an event entirely. After all, I can deal with the sadness of missing out on a vacation or not going to an amusement park with friends. I’m not sure, however, how I would handle the public shame if the flight attendant thought I needed to buy a second seat or the ride conductor at six flags needed me to get off the ride because he couldn’t get the safety bar down. After a while, these fears multiply, and pretty soon we’ve convinced ourselves there’s more we cannot do than things we can.

The driving force behind my personal success this year has been the desire to get to know myself separate from my weight. I no longer wanted my identity to be defined by the limitations my weight problem placed on my life. I wanted to really get to know myself, not just what I could and couldn’t do. This, of course, requires some work. On the one hand, there are certain things I can’t change. I can’t make designers carry bigger sizes, and I’m fairly confident the major airlines care more about making as much money as possible than they do about making customers a little more comfortable with wider seats. So, whether I like it or not, I have to get myself to a healthy weight to rid myself of these natural limitations. On the other hand, I have to stop waiting to live life. There’s nothing that says you can only have fun, feel good, be sexy, happy, have confidence, be adventurous, be desirable, spontaneous, and love yourself if you have fall within a normal body mass index. I let myself feel that way for a long time, but it’s not true, so I have to shake it. I have to get out of my comfort zone now, try new things, put myself out there, and start to learn what I actually like and dislike regardless of how much I weigh.

What I’m learning now is getting to know myself is spectacular. It is probably the most fun thing I’ve done with my life thus far. Turns out, I like shopping, I like wearing new clothes, and getting to feel a little fancy. I also still like nights at home in sweatpants, but now it feels like a choice instead of my only option. I’ve learned that I like going to sporting events every now and then, but will likely choose to watch it on T.V. most of the time because it’s a lot warmer and less expensive. I’ve learned that amusement parks aren’t really my thing because once you fit in the ride, it throws you around in the air with nothing but a tiny safety bar preventing you from plummeting to your death, and let’s be honest- how often are those rides really inspected? I’ve learned that some restaurants have really tiny booths (they must share notes with the airlines) and it’s okay if I’d prefer a table instead. And finally, I’ve learned that I’m not really too afraid to fly.

I’m not saying it’s easy, and I detest the judgmental, blaming comments of those who couldn’t possibly understand. But, I am saying that we have the control to decide we don’t want to miss out on life anymore. We can decide we are worth everything we want, even if our wants are as simple as riding a rollercoaster or finally getting to splurge on a new outfit. Life is absolutely worth living, even at 300 pounds. In fact, I live it brilliantly just as I am.