Losing, Becoming, Returning: The Untold Story of Gaining & Losing 157 Pounds

Today is July 13, 2026--the day before my first excess skin removal surgery, the day I stepped onto the scale and said, "I did it!"

Stats will tell you a lot about a person.

1383 days

2 million steps taken

Over 4000 meals logged

Over 1000 workouts completed

0 medications taken

156.9 pounds lost

But stats are only half of the story. Today, I want to tell you the rest.

The Culture That Destroyed My Confidence Before It Could Form

Being a teen in the early 2000s and 2010s, skinny was not only in, it was it. If you were not unhealthily thin, you were considered fat, undesirable, ugly, all the things. But body shaming didn't begin and end with what you found on the TV or in magazines. It infected those around me and they poured criticism into me because my body didn't meet the standard.

I had naturally wider hips and a fuller butt. I wore a size 14 jean while wearing a medium t-shirt and sporting a B cup. The women reading this understand. I wasn't fat. I was curvy. And those curves were natural. There was nothing I could do to reshape my body into the model-thin beauty standard. But that didn't stop me from trying.

I spent years being body checked. I can remember my mom's hands on my hips as if they were a measuring tape. I felt horrible for weighing close to 200 pounds as a girl raised by a mom who was barely over 100 pounds when pregnant with me. I was constantly compared to my thinner and taller sister, which fueled insecurity that I carried with me in every arena. The comments from guys at school that "your mom is hot," didn't help. Nor did the lack of romantic attention I experienced all throughout adolescence. I was tall and curvy, weighed more than probably every guy around me. I knew it. And so did they. Therefore, I was undatable. Undesirable.

Little comments or jokes became verdicts on my worth. When a boy at school would point out my knee was wider than his when sitting, my stomach was left in knots. Or when someone pulled my chair out from underneath me and my fall made a loud noise, the embarrassment was undeniable. To be fair, the building was on pillars, not a concrete foundation. Of course, my fall made a noise.

Growth spurts helped a problem that never really existed. And then, as I made the decision to quit basketball to focus on my academics senior year, I was told, "Be careful. Now that you're not running all the time, you'll start gaining weight and if you gain weight no one is going to date you."

Yes. Yes.

A seventeen-year-old girl who'd spent her life feeling compared, insecure, undatable, unlovable, just had it confirmed by the person who was supposed to build up her confidence that her weight was the gatekeeper to love. And so, the fantasies I'd carried about losing weight and finally being confident, finally having a boyfriend, turned into a mission to do just that.

That summer before senior year and continuing through my freshman year of college, I spent an hour a day on the elliptical. I would run. I would swim--not for fun, but with a lap goal in mind. I would do Jillian Michaels videos. And if I didn't, I would hate myself.

On top of that, I had a MyFitnessPal app--the same app I've used to track my progress on this journey. Except back then, I was misinformed about everything fitness and nutrition related. I think the world was, at least as far as women were concerned. I drank lemon water. I ate iceberg lettuce because it was zero calories and I tried to exercise enough and eat so little that at the end of the day MyFitnessPal would net zero calories. And I was praised for it.

To be fair, I don't think my parents realized the mental toll this was taking on me. I don't think they realized the extreme I was going to. But they were a part of what pushed me down this path. And so, it was whiplash when my mom said, "I'll force feed you if I have to," as she worried I was becoming too thin.

The crazy part is, I never lost any weight. I ALWAYS weighed in between 192 and 198 pounds. I now know enough about weight loss, fat vs. water weight, and even hormonal fluctations to know that 6 pound difference wasn't substantial fat loss. It was a normal fluctuation for any girl / woman.

What I lost during this stage wasn't weight. It was confidence. It was self-worth. In fact, I'm not sure I lost it. I don't think I ever had it.

The Reality of Gaining Nearly 160 Pounds

In college, the lie I'd always believed was proven false. I didn't have to be rail thin to get a boyfriend. In fact, I didn't have to change at all. And because I'd always hated exercise--probably because it was associated with my self-hatred--I eventually stopped exercising.

Years of inactivity, adapting to the eating habits of my significant other, and using food as a coping mechanism when tragedy and heartbreak struck led to me gaining roughly 160 pounds. At my heaviest, I was 357.4 pounds. Everything my mom feared finally came true. I was her fat daughter.

When I tell you I didn't look at a nutritional label or count a single calorie for years, I'm not lying. When I tell you I'd Doordash or Waiter multiple meals a day, sometimes spending over $100 a day on food, I'm also not lying.

When I did start my weight loss journey, I told my trainer, "Food was like a drug for me." While I don't have an addictive personality, in a way, food was my drug. I was putting something that wasn't good for me into my body at quanities that also weren't good for me. And just like any drug, it had an effect on my body. And that effect was bigger than the number on the scale.

While my blood work was always fine--likely due to my age--I was not healthy. I would sweat while merely standing to get ready. It was hard for me to breathe while tying my shoes, because all of the fat was pushing against my organs in that hunched over position. I had lower back pain. And while I wasn't unable to live my life--I still worked, I still traveled, I still had fun--feeling the difference of merely living today reminds me of how uncomfortable merely living used to be.

When An Old Lie Provides New Motivation

In 2022, I was newly divorced, finally settled into my new home, and tired of weight-related comments that were finally justified. What began as an "F U" has ended in a "Thank you." I'm actually thankful for all the hurtful things that were said to me while I was heavier. I'm thankful for the way people treated me. I'm thankful, because if I'd been accepted at my worst, I never would've been motivated to become my best. Maybe that sounds harsh, but it's true.

The harshest truth that pushed me over the edge? I knew that the kind of man I desired, the second chance at love I hoped to have one day, would not be possible in my current body. Unlike when I was told that no one would want me when I was a healthy, beautiful teenage girl, I knew that someone would want me as a 360 pound woman. But they wouldn't want me for the right reasons. And the truth is, I knew I wasn't the version of myself that I wanted to be wanted.

God had given me a second chance at life and love and I wanted to make the most of it. I wanted my future to be built on my best. And so, the journey began.

On September 29, 2022, I began a journey I knew would be years in the making with the hopes that one day, I'd find love again. Nearly, four years later, I can say that I did. But it wasn't the love of a man. It was finally the love of self and the love of exercise--a love that has carried me through unthinkable loss, heartbreak, and will carry me through life in a way a man never could.

Change Isn't Pretty or Instant

The day I walked into the gym to begin this journey, I had no idea what the next four years would entail. There was a part of me that knew it was possible to lose 150+ pounds, or I wouldn't even have attempted it. There was another part of me that couldn't imagine the day I could say I'd lost 100 pounds, 150 pounds, or the day I could stare at the scale and be like "I did it. I lost all the weight I gained." And yet, here we are.

One day at a time.

One workout at a time.

One meal at a time.

My first six months in the gym were mostly bodyweight exercise. My trainer was building strength we couldn't see and getting my body used to moving again. I vividly remember the pain of doing lateral raises for the first time. Why do I feel like I could only do 2 pounds and my arms were on fire? Now, I warm-up for every workout with 10 pound lateral raises.

When we transitioned to weight training, that's when things really got interesting. I loved weight training and still do. This was the source of my biggest physical transformation. For all the women out there, don't be afraid of those weights. Don't be afraid of muscle. You actually need it to survive.

Having muscle is the difference between living independently when you're 70+ and being in a nursing home. Having muscle is the difference between getting up from the toilet on your own and needing someone to help bathe you. Your muscle is your immune system, and it naturally declines when you hit 30 if you do not train and eat your protein to maintain it. So, if you take one thing from this post...

Don't worry about being smaller. Worry about being strong enough to live the life you want.

Finally, after years of struggling to lose weight I had the knowledge I needed to do it and do it healthily. Not with running myself into the ground or undereating. But with moderate movement and whole foods.

The change wasn't always pretty and it certainly wasn't instant. Even as I sit here today, after the 1383 days, 2 million steps taken, 4000 meals logged, 1000 workouts completed, and 156.9 pounds lost, my body still doesn't reveal all the work I've put in. All the ways I've shown up for myself. And that's the part no one really talks about.

I showed up through a broken toe, period cramps, bad body-image days when I still wore the skin-tight leggings. I showed up through sickness, through family illness, death, and tragedy. I showed up through disappointment and heartbreak. I SHOWED UP. And yet, there are days when I'm still treated like a beginner because of the skin that hangs from my lower abdomen, because I'm not skinny or shredded, because my body doesn't fit the image of what people think it should. In that was my biggest lesson.

Some people will never fully see you, but it's still important to keep becoming the woman you're proud of.

After all these years, I've learned that my presence at the gym was bigger than the workout. I had an appointment with myself. I kept it. And when you start keeping the promises you make to yourself, everything in your life changes. The character you build in the gym carries into every other area of your life, including your relationships. And while I'd hoped to have met my person before the end of this journey, because it would've symbolized that I don't need to be perfect to be loved, I still learned that lesson without the person.

When My Weight Was No Longer the Gatekeeper To Love

I am ending this journey having lost everything I wanted to, and having gained much more than I originally hoped for. What began as a quest for confidence and love is ending with a love of self and fitness, an understanding of nutrition that empowers me to enjoy food without it controlling me, and a confidence that won't shatter when I'm not chosen. I became the woman I'd always hoped to be. And in many ways, I returned to the girl I once was with the confidence she never had.

I love my curves.

I love my butt, even though it sometimes draws unwanted attention.

I love my strength.

I love exercise.

I love hip thrusting over 400 pounds.

I love going for walks without obsessing over my step count.

I love seeing the muscles pop in my arms and chest.

I'm not interested in reshaping my body, but revealing the shape God gave me.

I still love to enjoy tasty food, and have learned how to fuel my body without giving up flavor.

This body--this 200 pound body, just like my 280 pound body, and my 360 pound body--has carried me through more life than I ever could've dreamed of living and we're still just in the beginning.

Your worth is not determined by a number on the scale, but your life is determined by how you carry yourself.

Tomorrow, I begin a new journey of healing. Having the loose skin removed from my abdomen will feel freeing, a literal weight off my chest. Except not the chest lol. There's a part of me that's excited that my body will no longer alter people's perception of me. But there's also the part of me that knows my body was never the gatekeeper of love. It was just a reflection of my self love or lack of. And now, I'm loving myself enough to choose better, to do better, to move because it's good for me, to eat to fuel the body that carries me miles each day and across the ocean on occasion.

I'm so thankful for the version of me that chose to take a chance on reclaiming her future. You did it, girl! You really did it. And now, I will honor your choice with each one that comes next.

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When I wrote this post it was just to share a part of my story that I haven't before, but as I meditate on it more, I feel this could be the start of a new blog category.

Reclaiming my health has allowed me to SHOW UP in my life for myself and others. It's allowed me to become more confident, step into service roles at church, be a role model for others, and even go on a very active mission trip to Greece.

Our health is easy for Satan to attack in the culture we live in. We have food at our fingertips and schedules so busy that if we don't make activity a priority, it won't happen at all. And when our body begins to limit us physically, limitations of the mind quickly follow.

As Christians, we shouldn't contribute to our own limitations. So, if you'd like to rebuild your temple with some of my favorite exercises and recipes, keep reading. 💌