Yea that's easy to do right??? Here is a short list of things to change:
1. Eat five meals per day (2 small ones like a snack of an apple, nuts, berries, orange, or tuna - something small)
2. Cut out fried food, pasta, breads, pop (even diet pop), desserts and junk snacks
3. Get some exercise - 30 minutes per day even if it is just walking - do someting
4. Stay positive. Sometimes you have to make changes one day at a time
Here's another motivational article:
Candid Snapshots
by Adina Zanolli
A floating head. For years, that's all I was. I hid behind anything imaginable when that camera came out.
When the boys were born, I'd put them in my lap, allowing only my head to show in pictures. If they were standing, I would crouch behind them. Again. Only a head.
You see, if I allowed only that small portion of my body to show, I didn't have to face it. I didn't have to grasp the brevity of the situation. I could pretend that I wasn't obese.
Mirrors allow just a partial glimpse. I could stand in front of that mirror and see only what I wanted to see. I knew how to work with angles. While I was terrible at learning angles in geometry, I embraced the angles of my reflection.
I knew exactly how to stand. I knew to suck in and twist, just so. I knew to tilt my head and look up, making the double chin practically disappear — if I even allowed myself to believe I had one.
But a picture is worth a thousand words, and a candid snapshot is worth a hundred pounds.
Very few pictures even exist of me at my heaviest weight. I ripped most of them into shreds. No matter how important the event, I didn't order photos if I was in them; nor did I allow them to be hung or displayed. I was queen of finding excuses to hide them.
I found no joy in family albums; no comfort in looking through stacks of old photos. The posed shots revealed a woman ashamed. A woman hiding.
But it was those candid shots that were my undoing. They were unbearable, and at times would reduce me to tears. You see, a candid shot tells no lies. There's no time to suck in that gut or hide behind children, rocks, or plants when you don't notice the camera. Only, it certainly notices you!
There are no best angles.
No time to pull T-shirts out of fat rolls.
No time to run, duck, or hide.
You can't even grab a jacket, or run home to put on the armor of a solid black outfit from head to toe.
I remember sitting in my office at work when someone stopped by to bring me a photo. They were being kind in bringing it to me! They knew I was obese, but I had let myself forget. Forgetting was easier.
Adina before her transformation, at 256 pounds.
But it was one of those candid shots, and the image is burned in my mind to this day. It's been years, but I can still tell you the colors and the textures of what I wore. I can tell you how the sweater clung to the rolls on my belly as I sat hunched over, and how the slender woman next to me magnified the size of my every part.
I was forced to acknowledge the double chin I thought was non-existent, because there it was.
I tried to hide my shame as I scanned the photo, but I'm sure it was evident. I barely made it down the hall, tears streaming down my face, to the comfort of the rest room. That photo was quickly torn to shreds, and the remnants were placed in a waded up paper towel to assure they were never found.
That wasn't living. I had to do something about it; I didn't want to live my life as a floating head in the background of a picture, and I certainly didn't want to be a pile of shredded remains!
I began looking for photos that inspired me, and taped them around the edges of my full length mirror. Every morning, I would stand in front of that mirror. Looking. Hoping. Praying. Wondering.
Could I change the reflection I saw? Could I become one of the women taped to my mirror?
Most mornings I looked longer at the pictures than I did at my own reflection. It was just easier. Less pain; more dignity.
I would take a quick glance at my reflection followed by a lingering stare at one of the pictures, thinking, "One day, I will be there. I'll do what it takes."
Of course, looking at pictures wasn't enough. I had to diet, I had to exercise. Most importantly, I had to grasp that what I was doing was a lifestyle change.
And the most amazing thing happened: I began to remove those pictures. Slowly, one at a time, they all came down.
I even talked to them a little!
The first one came down after I lost about twenty-five pounds. "I don't need you any more," I heard myself whispering.
Ten pounds later, "I'm tired of looking at you, too."
Fifty pounds gone and a new era was ushered in with, "I totally want to end up with more muscle than that. You don't even have shoulder caps. Buh-bye."
Seventy-five pounds gone, and there were no pictures left.
I had become my own motivation.
The author after losing over 100 pounds.
But it wasn't reaching my goal that told the best tale; it snuck up on my, really. I was at a Christmas party with my best friend, when his mom wanted to snap our picture. He moved in front of me, and before I could even think, I snapped, "Oh no, don't you stand in front of me!"
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was reduced to tears once again. Only this time, they were tears of joy, because that floating head is now the muscular girl who stands behind no one when that camera comes out!
About the Author
Adina Zanolli has lost over one hundred pounds and is a featured blog-writer for FitnessRX for Women. She has appeared in Muscle and Fitness, Oxygen, and FitnessRX for Women magazines. She'd also made an appearance on The Today Show as a new inductee into Joy Bauer's Joy Fit Club.
It's not impossible - it takes time, dedication and alot of willpower. If you fall off the wagon, get back on.
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