The best holiday present I ever got...

The best holiday present I ever got is two presents that I asked for, but did not receive in late-July of 2012.

You see, for many, many years, on many, many occasions, I had declared battle on my morbid obesity. And for many, many years, on many, many occasions, I failed in that battle. Failed miserably. And with each additional attempt, my weight spiraled ever higher to new and even more dramatic heights. By mid-July of 2012, I weighed 485 pounds. My morbid obesity confined me to waddling from recliner to dining room chair to car to office chair to stands at little league games to recliner once more. And so it was that a little more than five months ago, I wished for one of two presents. And I didn't particularly care which one I got.

The first present was a sandwich. Not just any sandwich. But my all time favorite sandwich. I do not think it has a name. But if it did, it should probably have the word "diabetes" in it somewhere. Since the sandwich does not have a name, I will have to simply describe it to you. Take three slices of spongy white bread out of the bread bag. Toast two of them light brown. When they're ready, butter them so that the butter glistens in little, shiny puddles in every crevise of the bread. Then, spread the unbuttered side of one piece of toast with marshmallow creme, and do the same with the other piece of toast, but on that one use creamy peanut butter. Then, take the untoasted third piece of bread and slather both sides with Nutella. Now, lay the marshmallow creme toast on the plate (marshmallow creme side up) and cover it with slices of really ripe, sweet banana (little circles). Place the Nutella bread on top of it, then cover that piece of bread with more banana slices (circles). Then take the peanut butter toast, and place it peanut butter side down to make a diabetes triple decker sandwich.

Please note that this sandwich MUST be washed down with a tall glass of non-fat skim milk so that the eater maintains his or her illusion of self-control and healthy eating. If you are lactose intolerant, I suppose a diet coke will do, but the milk really is essential to the experience.

That was my first wish. To have one of those sandwiches. But I was too lazy to make it, and too ashamed to ask Mrs.TFT to do it for me. So as an alternate, I asked for one other present. I asked to die.

I didn't want life to end because of a bad marriage. Mrs.TFT is the best wife and life companion a man could ever want. It wasn't because of rough times with kids. I adore them and they are good, decent, funny wonderful men. It wasn't because of business. I am well respected and liked in my profession. It was because I was trapped in a vicious cycle of eating, feeling bad about it, and then eating more, and feeling bad about it, and on and on and on. I believed that there was nothing I could do break that vicious cycle.

I really would have preferred the sandwich. But dying would have been fine too.

Then, two things happened.

First, I found MFP and my wonderful, special friends that I have made on here. I had people who were encouraging me, lovingly, positively, and occasionally with tough love, that I needed to do it. Not after the weekend. Not next month. Not tomorrow. Now. Because of their encouragement and enthusiasm, for the first time, I truly believed that I COULD lose the weight that was slowly suffocating me. I could finally break the chain of pain.

Second, I realized that my son's bar mitzvah was just five months away. I wanted to be there for it. And for him. He was working so hard to prepare. Throwing everything he had into it while maintaining great grades, and a full schedule of acting lessons and baseball games. I figured if he could work hard at something that meant a lot to him, then so could I. I had to. Under no circumstances did I, a 478 pound behemoth, want to embarrass Jacob by looking bloated and grotesque on his special day. Under no circumstances did I want the synagogue staff to have to bring in a special chair because I could not fit into the armchairs on the synagogue stage.

If I was going to do this, I had my work cut out for me. I guesstimated that getting under 400 pounds by his special day of December 21st would get me into the chairs without them shattering or me needing the Jaws of Life to get out of them. That meant losing 78 pounds-- an average of around 3 3/4 pounds per week every week for 21 weeks. No bull****. No excuses. No whining. 3 3/4 pounds per week every week for 21 weeks. For a guy who could never lose more than 10 pounds before throwing in the towel-- and then eating it.

This post is not about how I lost the weight. If you want to know that, I have left a string of food diaries, exercise diaries and message posts explaining all of that. This is about the fact that I accomplished what I set out to do. On December 21, 2012, I weighed in at 393 pounds, for a loss of not 78 pounds, but 85 pounds. An average of 4.04 pounds lost per week every week for 21 weeks. No bull****. No excuses. No whining. Just results.

Now, if you weighed 393 pounds, you'd probably not be particularly happy. And don't get me wrong. I know I have a lot more work to do in 2013 to get where I want to go. I am shooting for an average of 3 pounds per week EVERY week for all of 2013, so that when I am sitting here 365 days from now, instead of weighing 393 pounds, I will weigh 243 pounds. Still not at goal, but a lot closer to it than I have been in more than a quarter century.

So if you ask me what the best holiday present I ever got was, it was the two presents that I asked for last July and did not receive. Because if I had received either one, I probably would not be here today with any kind of future that is worth looking forward to. Instead, tonight, I rewarded myself for losing what I have to-date with a vigorous 77 minute power walk in the cold and rain and LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

I write this story knowing that for every one Me that is out there, there are lots of other folks struggling with their own morbid obesity. And if you are one of those people reading this story, I want you to know that you CAN take back control of your life. You CAN learn to love yourself enough to make a big change for the better. You CAN love yourself enough to do what it takes not just to survive another day, but to savor, cherish and enjoy each and every new day you are blessed to receive. Because I am there and I want you to come join me. You can do it. I KNOW you can.