Yep. Red beans and rice didn't miss her. Her being me.

*expletive, expletive, expletive*  Okay, so I'm just going to dive riiiiight in.  Do you know what I hate the most about being fat?  No, it's not worrying about whether or not my behind will fit in certain seats.  No, it's got nothing to do with the inability to shop wherever I want, although it's a close second.  And, no, it's not the horrific excuse for clothes "designers" try to pawn off on us fat chicks.  (Muumuus, while insanely comfortable, are not fashionable.)  What I hate the most about being fat is, because I'm fat, you (not "you," but the general "you") automatically think you know me.  Because I'm fat, you know my whole life story before I open my mouth and shove a doughnut in it.  Because I'm fat, I'm dismissed.  It's a big heaping pile of crap, if you ask me.

So, here's the thing.  I'm working on not being fat.  As of this writing, I have lost a total of about 80 pounds.  With that being said, I am still considered obese.  I am about another 75 pounds away from what is considered a "normal" weight.  This weight loss journey is a long and drawn out process, but I'm working on it.  I decided to add running to my exercise regimen.  Let's pump the brakes for a moment and back up a bit.  I am not a runner.  I have never ran for anything other than food and a silly contest called the Amazing Race here in Seoul.  (The race was a contest to see who could take the most pictures of landmarks that were given to us in the form of clues.  I didn't *want* to run.  I just wanted to win.  Alas, we didn't.)  The point I am trying to make is, running is just not something I ever wanted or thought I could do.  If I saw someone jogging, I would always think, You don't have to do that, you know?  You can just stop.  We'd understand.  My friend, Melissa, a few months ago mentioned that she wanted to do something called the Couch-to-5K program.  I Googled it, and it seemed like something even I could do.  The program is essentially this:  In nine weeks, it takes someone from not being a runner at all (thus the "couch" part) to running a 5K, which is a little more than three miles.  I mulled it over in my head for a while.  About a month ago, I decided to give it a whirl.

The first day killed me.  Week 1, day 1 of the Couch-to-5K, I was starting to write my will.  It was difficult for me.  I'm 234 pounds.  I'm a big girl.  I don't run.  What the hell did I get myself into, I thought.  I had side stitches, shin splints, my lungs were burning from sucking the cold Seoul air.  But.  I finished it.  Me.  I ran.  Granted I jogged for one minute and walked for one-and-a-half minutes, alternating for 20 minutes, but dang it… I did it.  I didn't give up, and I got through it.  I got so excited, I decided I love running.  I was obviously getting way ahead of myself.

I ran outside for the first few days of the Couch-to-5K, and if you knew how cold it was here in Seoul, you'd probably smack me upside the head for being dumb.  The last few weeks, the temperature hovered around below freezing.  One day I ran, it was 16 degrees.  16.  1-6.  Yeah.  Cold.  I was building my confidence, and a little cold weather wasn't going to stop me.  For so long I was too self-conscious to do anything outside, much less exercise.  I decided to change my mind and go for it.  Next thing I knew, my favorite security guard in my apartment building would clap and cheer me on as I ran by.  (Everyone deserves a cheerleader to wait for them around the corner when they run by.)  However, I decided it was just too cold outside to run.  The following days, it was, like, no degrees outside with a wind-chill of -17 degrees.  No, thanks.  I went to my friend Megan's apartment building and ran in her gym.  It was awesome.  Not nearly as cold and the little old Korean lady I saw there was just as nice as could be.  She was working on her buns and abs, apparently.

After a while, I started developing a pain in my heel.  I was pretty sure it was because my shoes were worn down, so I got a new pair.  Well, I had to break those in, so I alternated between the new shoes and the worn shoes.  As it turned out, I hurt my heel pretty bad.  Bad enough to warrant a trip to the ER.  Here's how that went...

They took x-rays and saw nothing was broken, thank God.  As it turned out, I had micro tears in my Achilles tendon.  After a deliberation between the Korean doctor and the American doctor, the American doctor came in and talked to me about my being fat and if I lost "5-10 pounds," I'd be in better shape.  I'm 234 pounds.  I need to lose a lot more than that.  I know I'm fat.  I get it.  So, you know what irked me the most about the conversation?  It's not even the fact that he tried to politely over-explain to me that I needed to lose weight.  What bothered me the most is that he *assumed* that I'm just some lazy fat girl who tripped running to a box of doughnuts.  If you could only hear the tone of the conversation.  It was condescending, and it took everything in me to not be the ghetto Puerto Rican from the Bronx.  Just because I am fat, it does not mean you know me.  You don't know my struggles.  You don't know my story.  Looking at me, you don't know I lost 80 pounds.  You don't know how much I beat myself up over my weight.  You don't know where I've been or where I am going.  The assumption that fat people are lazy and spend their day eating potato chips with the Biggest Loser playing in the background is wrong and way off.  I am more than just a fat girl.  I'm a smart girl.  I'm a funny girl.  I'm a sarcastic girl.  I'm a good mom.  I'm a so-so wife.  I'm a great friend.  I'm a good listener.  I am loyal.  I am insecure.  I am me; a person who is just trying to make it to lights out every single day.  You think you know, but you have no idea.  Don't assume you know someone because they look a certain way.  Chances are, you're wrong.