It's the end of week thirteen and today marks three months since I began this new life of mine, so it seems fitting to take this opportunity to reflect upon the last three months and the changes that have taken place, both externally and internally, to belly and brain.
Three months ago, I was monumentally miserable and made excuses for it. In fact, so unhappy was I that I actually didn't think I was. I had lost the gift of insight and was living in denial. Yes, I have underlying mental health difficulties, but what I failed to realise was that the buck stopped with me. I could either choose to accept my circumstances and work around them, or live a life of excuses and endlessly searching for something or someone to blame for my unhappiness. I had run out of things to blame...
I had lived my life in a bubble for the four years that preceded my decision to change things forever. I had failed to truly accept how terribly I'd let myself go and indeed, let myself down. After Dad was taken from me, my life changed. I had lost the one person I really listened to and who had the ability to make me think twice about my actions. However, I was a man and should have possessed the ability to be accountable for my own actions and to take responsibility for myself. Over a period of four years, I gained weight. Why did I gain weight? I developed a relationship with food that was dangerously unhealthy. If I had something to celebrate, I would eat. If I had something to commiserate, I would eat. If I was worried about something, I would eat. I wasn't even eating socially. I became a secret eater. I would prepare food and eat when I knew no one would see me ans see the mammoth portions I was consuming. I would shut myself away and be alone, with food filling my stomach, but not the void in my heart. Unfortunately, I was only able to keep my eating a secret for so long. Eventually, the weight began to pile on and it was obvious to everyone who saw me that I was eating a lot. I then changed my image accordingly. I became Big Trev, the bug guy with the big appetite. I tried to accept the fact I was a fat man and tried in vain to show the world that I was comfortable with this and content.
The weight continued to pile on and I became unable to wear the flamboyant clothes I loved so much. I became Big Trev in the T Shirt and jeans.
Not only was I now fat, but the strain my eating had on my body rendered me unable to perform physically as I previously could. I became a sweaty, breathless, lethargic waster. Once I realised I couldn't run and be physically active, I stopped trying to. My energy levels diminished to the point of finding it difficult to even leave the house.
One day, I bent over to put my shoes on and realised I couldn't breath. My gut was now so large that when I bent over, it would push against my lungs. I was now beginning to realise what I'd done to myself.
As the weight continued to increase, I started finding it difficult to buy clothes that fitted, so I started buying my garments from Jacamo, or as I prefer to call it, 'fatfucks.co.uk'. I was now too fat for the biggest sizes available on the high street. However, Jacamo was there for the larger man, so I felt it was acceptable.
I was now so lazy and so miserable that I was doing nothing with my life apart from sleep, eat, shit and play X Box. That was the extent of my sorry existence for many months.
One day, after around ten stone of weight gain and at least four years of misery, the penny dropped. I was no longer willing to accept the person I had become. I was tired. Tired of being so fat that my penis was on the missing persons register. Tired of being so lazy that I only left the house to stock up on food. Tired of being so unhealthy that I perspired as if I lived in a Sauna. Tired of my lack of ambition. I had completely lost my identity. I had lost the will to carry on. I'd almost resigned myself to the fact I'd be like this for the rest of my days. No more. No more procrastination. I was a fat fucking loser and the only person who could change that was me. I wanted to be happy, I'd have to make it happen for myself and stop blaming the world for my misery. Yes, the world can be a cruel and nasty place but it can also be a beautiful place. If I wanted to experience this beauty once again, I'd have to stand tall and tell the world that it couldn't beat me. I wanted happiness, so I was going to fight tooth and nail to get it. I had a long journey ahead, but it was my right to be happy and my responsibility to do everything in my power to make it happen.
It is now three months later and today I can say I'm as happy as I can ever remember being. Is my life perfect? No, but I'm now in a position to accept life's imperfections and strive to make life happen. Will I be happy tomorrow? Maybe, maybe not, but I'll be making the right decisions and making sure I have the best chance possible to be.
Today, these isn't a single item of clothing in my wardrobe that doesn't fit, in fact, much of it is too large. My penis has now been removed from the missing persons register and is safe and well, where it belongs. I can now tie my shoes without having a near death experience. I can now walk to the shops without looking and feeling like I've run a marathon. my joints no longer hurt. My feet no longer hurt. I now have the energy to go out and see the world for all its beauty. My mind now has the kind of clarity necessary for me to think and create and plan. I now possess a largely positive attitude and look forward to the challenges and opportunities each day brings. Exercise and healthy eating are now a part of my life and not a sacrifice. I'm no longer Big Trev, I'm now A Bit Smaller Trev.
I now remember what it feels like to be happy. My life has changed, hopefully forever and although I still have a long way to go until I'm the size and level of fitness I want to be, I'm over half way there. In three months I've lost over five stone in weight, weight that I never want to see again.
Life is difficult and full of hurdles, but I ready to take these on, head-on. I will not be beaten by life.
Next week, I weigh myself and measure my vitals. I'll be another step closer. I've taken control of my life, and it feels incredible. If anyone reads this and has something in their life they want to change, but doubt their ability to do so, don't. You have strength and reserves you're not even aware of. Anything is possible. You don't have to accept a life of unhappiness. Make a change and you'll achieve things you never knew were possible.
Here's to the next nine months. Bring it the fuck on.
'If something comes easily to you, it's not important to you. The important things in life and those that matter the most, are the things you have to fight to get and fight to keep. Never stop fighting for your right to pursue happiness'.