That's me!
I was born on November 19th, 1993. I graduated from Waller High School on June 2nd, 2012. Immediately after High School, I jumped headfirst into pursuing an Engineering Degree from Prairie View A&M University. I didn't last very long. I switched to a technical school in November 2013. After a very hard 8 months of driving more than 120 miles every single day, I graduated from The Ocean Corporation on June 2014. Ever since then, I've worked as a Nondestructive Testing Inspector at a company outside of Houston, Texas.
But why is she telling us all of this information?
Because all of this contributed to my weight gain over time.
Elementary School - I was one of the last people to finish our one-mile run every Friday. I didn't know why I was slower than all the other kids. I just was.
7th Grade- I was one of the kids who tried out for volleyball in the fall, and I actually made it. We went through strict conditioning every gym period. I had loved playing volleyball since I was a kid, so I didn’t mind the physical work that seemed to make me better. After volleyball was over, the conditioning stopped. We were in “off season” and looking back, I don’t remember what that consisted of. I know we had to run one mile every Friday, which was always hard for me, I assume because I was used to short period of sprinting. NOT long runs. Later in my 7th grade year, my thighs started touching. All of a sudden my jeans were wearing out in the middle. I had never considered myself fat, despite being one of the bigger kids in my athletics class and being one of the last to finish their mile on Friday.
8th Grade- I tried out for the volleyball team again, and unfortunately I didn’t make the cut this time. I didn’t even call my grandma to pick me up from school that day. I ran out of the gym, crying, and walked the half-mile home. When I got home I locked myself in the bathroom and cried and cried and cried. 8th Grade me wanted nothing more than to play volleyball again with my friends. I finally unlocked the door and allowed my grandma to hug me instead of talking to me from the other side of the door. The next day in gym class, I was placed once again in “off season” which I think consisted of a lot of running. It was a good outlet at the time. I stayed in off season until the spring, when track season began. The coaches put all the girls in a big area and went one-by-one, picking the girls who would train and later compete in the running events. Slowly people started disappearing from around me as more and more girls were hand-picked by coaches to be runners. Finally there was a small group of probably 15 girls left, and we became the throwers. I was one of the girls who threw the shot put and discus in the track meets. At the time, I remember wondering why the coaches hated me. Why they constantly chose the smaller girls for the exciting events like relay, pole vault, and volleyball. I realize now that there were putting me exactly where I should have been – with the bigger, more muscular girls who weren’t exactly runners. But at the time… I was traumatized.
9th Grade- I had been in band since 6th grade, so joining the marching band when I entered high school seemed like a no brainer. I was passionate about music, and it included so much physical activity that I never have to take an athletics class again. The summer before 9th grade we had a month of band camps – 8 to 5 classes where we were either marching around in the hot sun, or marching in place with our instruments. I performed in all of the football games that fall.
10th and 11th grade- More band camps in the summer, more football games in the fall. I also joined the winter guard, an indoor version of the color guard. I was happy doing this. After marching season was over, I still had a creative outlet and some small form of exercise.
12th Grade- I was elected to be a marching band section leader the summer before my senior year in high school. Unfortunately, money and preparing myself for college was my first priority. I declined the role of section leader and began working at a Sonic near my house. I was a skating carhop, but the physical roller skating I was doing was unfortunately not enough to counter my poor eating habit. As a child, fast food wasn’t something we had. Only on special occasions or road trips. So naturally, having unlimited access to it did quite a number on my waistline.
Summer 2012- I graduated high school and moved in with my grandparents. I eventually transferred to a Sonic closer to their house.
Fall 2012- I began school at Prairie View A&M University. I quit my job at Sonic and worked at the University as a personal assistant to the Dean of the College of Electrical Engineering. My eating habits improved, but not for very long.
Spring 2013- I was still a student at PVAMU, but I got a new job at a Gap Outlet about 15 miles from my grandmother’s house and about 25 miles from my school. I worked almost every day after school. I would go home and study after work, but not before grabbing a bite from one of the fast food places on my way home.
Summer 2013- I got a new job at a CVS Pharmacy near my grandmother’s house and made the decision not to return to Prairie View the following semester. Due to some family issues, I moved out of my grandparents house and in with my Aunt who lived just a few miles away. During my time at CVS, I was extremely broke due to saving up to pay for my technical education which I would begin in November. I ate whatever I could afford – which was normally fast food or candy I had bought in bulk or on clearance after a holiday.
December 2013- I decided to move from my Aunt’s house back in with my mother. I wanted to better my relationship with my sisters, one of whom was expecting her first child. I had started school a month earlier and unfortunately my eating habits had only gotten worse. I would wake up at 10:30 every day, leave for school at 11:00, and swing through a drive through on my way there. On days I felt particularly health-conscious, I would try to abstain from lunch, only to end up caving on my way home around 5:00 and binge eating 2 orders of fries and 10 chicken nuggets, or 2 pizzas from Subway. This continued until the day I graduated in late June.
July 2014- I graduated school and moved into my new home near my grandmother, with my cousin as my roommate. My energy level was at an all-time low, as were my finances. I was holding on to every single penny. I was no longer able to swing through a drive-through for an order of fries. I was eating Ramen noodles once, sometimes twice a day. At the end of July, I was offered a job about 25 miles from my house. I accepted and began working 12-hour days in the heat. My health was so poor, I almost quit. I loved the job, but absolutely hated the heat and long hours on my feet. I somehow managed to stick to it. This is the first time I can remember turning to food for comfort. I would get off a 12 hours shift and think “I worked really hard today – I deserve Whataburger.”
August 2014 to January 2015- I had fallen back in to the vicious cycle of eating fast food every single day. Weekends were only slightly better – I would go to a restaurant with my friends or sister and order anything and everything I wanted. The newfound financial security coupled with my mindset of entitlement to a daily reward in the form of food is what eventually got me to my highest weight. I reached my highest weight right after Christmas after a month of birthday celebrations and holiday feasts.
Early February 2015- Although I was flirting with my most unhealthy weight so far, I had bigger things to worry about. I had a new car, which brought about a car note and an insurance payment. In addition, things were getting dicey between my roommate and I as I was preparing for my first international vacation to a resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. My mindset shifted from “treat yourself” to “just make it out of the country”. I was more stressed than ever before. Eating became just another item on my list of things to do, like brushing my teeth or doing laundry. When we finally got to our resort, I had another problem. The food! Or should I say, lack thereof. There was only a few restaurants on the resort to choose from, and they were all sit-down family type restaurants. No fast food, no drive throughs, nothing. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have access to an order of French fries at the exact moment I thought about them. I didn’t have the means to immediately satisfy my hunger (*cough* boredom) at any time of the day or night. My newly developed reliance on food as a source of comfort had come back to bite me in the ass, and boy, was it biting hard. I made it a point on the second day of our trip to go to the one store on the resort and purchase extremely overprices sodas and snacks for our hotel room. I think I ended up spending $40 that day – just for 3 sodas, 2 bags of chips, a container of pringles, a candy bar, and a bag of M&Ms. However, believe it or not, I still didn’t realize I had a problem. I would sleep my mornings away – waking up at noon after all the good restaurants were closed. I would drag my grandmother and aunt to the one restaurant that was open at that time of day, the buffet, and eat to my heart’s content. Just the thought of not having the option to grab a burger later on in the afternoon was enough to make me stuff my face. I would go back 3, 4, sometimes even 5 times to the buffet and eat everything I put on my plate. I would then either be lethargic and opt out of the adventures I had previously planned for the day, or I would reluctantly allow myself to be dragged to the pool or beach where I would down Pina Coladas like there was no tomorrow. As beautiful as the island was, I was relieved when it came time for us to leave and fly back home. When we arrived home, I was ecstatic. I didn’t go out to eat that night because we got in very late, but I was in a restaurant the very next day eating to my heart’s content.
Mid-February 2015- Things were great, or so it would appear. I was back at work, and back to eating fast food every day. When people asked me how my vacation was, I struggled to find positive feedback to give them. I focused on how beautiful the island was and how wonderful our hotel was. When the topic came around to food, the conversation always seemed to take a negative turn. Not being able to talk about my very exotic, very expensive vacation with a clean conscience was my first sign that maaaaaaybe something wasn’t right. After all, it had been a wonderful vacation. I had enjoyed myself thoroughly – but inside my own head, the food-related anxiety I felt clouded my judgement and impaired many of my decisions. And then, we started getting pictures back. People would post photos from the vacation on Facebook, I received cards from the bride and groom (who had a destination wedding, hence our family vacation). And I couldn’t help but cringe looking at myself in those photos. These were photos from a wedding, a joyous occasion, a joining of lives, a union of souls… And then, there was me. Chaney. Round. In my white dress with my hair pulled back. Something about the way I looked in those photos stuck with me. And I can’t describe it in any way except painful. Like when you’re eating a tortilla chip and you swallow it the wrong way and it scrapes your throat in a way that brings tears to your eyes. The image of me in the celebratory wedding photos was imprinted into the back of my mind permanently. Although I was the youngest person featured in the photo, and I was also the largest. The most awkward looking of the whole bunch (and there was a guy on a scooter, that’s hard to beat). I never cried over the way I looked in that photo, because at the time I thought I looked amazing and was very confident with myself. But that one photo, taken from a very high and awkward angle, was the equivalent of the universe holding a mirror up in front of my face. I don’t know how to explain what happened next. Something changed. The cosmos flipped a switch, and all of a sudden my priority became happiness from every angle. This translates into every area of my life. That day my philosophy became and remains “If it doesn’t make me money, make me happy, or make me skinny, I don’t have time for it.”
Late February- I don’t remember for how long my best friend had been saying she was going to get a gym membership. Months, I think. She was looking at a gym really far away from both of our homes. But thankfully (I’m looking straight at you, Jesus, thank ya Lord) a Planet Fitness opened up near her house. It also happened to be on my way home from work. Her fiancé offered to pay for her membership, and she started working out there. I had never been inclined to work out with her when she asked the first 9 million times, but ever since my cosmos switch flipping episode, I was praying for her to ask again, and eventually my prayers were answered. I went to the gym with her for the first time on February 24th, 2015. And that’s where my journey began.
I was born on November 19th, 1993. I graduated from Waller High School on June 2nd, 2012. Immediately after High School, I jumped headfirst into pursuing an Engineering Degree from Prairie View A&M University. I didn't last very long. I switched to a technical school in November 2013. After a very hard 8 months of driving more than 120 miles every single day, I graduated from The Ocean Corporation on June 2014. Ever since then, I've worked as a Nondestructive Testing Inspector at a company outside of Houston, Texas.
But why is she telling us all of this information?
Because all of this contributed to my weight gain over time.
Elementary School - I was one of the last people to finish our one-mile run every Friday. I didn't know why I was slower than all the other kids. I just was.
7th Grade- I was one of the kids who tried out for volleyball in the fall, and I actually made it. We went through strict conditioning every gym period. I had loved playing volleyball since I was a kid, so I didn’t mind the physical work that seemed to make me better. After volleyball was over, the conditioning stopped. We were in “off season” and looking back, I don’t remember what that consisted of. I know we had to run one mile every Friday, which was always hard for me, I assume because I was used to short period of sprinting. NOT long runs. Later in my 7th grade year, my thighs started touching. All of a sudden my jeans were wearing out in the middle. I had never considered myself fat, despite being one of the bigger kids in my athletics class and being one of the last to finish their mile on Friday.
8th Grade- I tried out for the volleyball team again, and unfortunately I didn’t make the cut this time. I didn’t even call my grandma to pick me up from school that day. I ran out of the gym, crying, and walked the half-mile home. When I got home I locked myself in the bathroom and cried and cried and cried. 8th Grade me wanted nothing more than to play volleyball again with my friends. I finally unlocked the door and allowed my grandma to hug me instead of talking to me from the other side of the door. The next day in gym class, I was placed once again in “off season” which I think consisted of a lot of running. It was a good outlet at the time. I stayed in off season until the spring, when track season began. The coaches put all the girls in a big area and went one-by-one, picking the girls who would train and later compete in the running events. Slowly people started disappearing from around me as more and more girls were hand-picked by coaches to be runners. Finally there was a small group of probably 15 girls left, and we became the throwers. I was one of the girls who threw the shot put and discus in the track meets. At the time, I remember wondering why the coaches hated me. Why they constantly chose the smaller girls for the exciting events like relay, pole vault, and volleyball. I realize now that there were putting me exactly where I should have been – with the bigger, more muscular girls who weren’t exactly runners. But at the time… I was traumatized.
9th Grade- I had been in band since 6th grade, so joining the marching band when I entered high school seemed like a no brainer. I was passionate about music, and it included so much physical activity that I never have to take an athletics class again. The summer before 9th grade we had a month of band camps – 8 to 5 classes where we were either marching around in the hot sun, or marching in place with our instruments. I performed in all of the football games that fall.
10th and 11th grade- More band camps in the summer, more football games in the fall. I also joined the winter guard, an indoor version of the color guard. I was happy doing this. After marching season was over, I still had a creative outlet and some small form of exercise.
12th Grade- I was elected to be a marching band section leader the summer before my senior year in high school. Unfortunately, money and preparing myself for college was my first priority. I declined the role of section leader and began working at a Sonic near my house. I was a skating carhop, but the physical roller skating I was doing was unfortunately not enough to counter my poor eating habit. As a child, fast food wasn’t something we had. Only on special occasions or road trips. So naturally, having unlimited access to it did quite a number on my waistline.
Summer 2012- I graduated high school and moved in with my grandparents. I eventually transferred to a Sonic closer to their house.
Fall 2012- I began school at Prairie View A&M University. I quit my job at Sonic and worked at the University as a personal assistant to the Dean of the College of Electrical Engineering. My eating habits improved, but not for very long.
Spring 2013- I was still a student at PVAMU, but I got a new job at a Gap Outlet about 15 miles from my grandmother’s house and about 25 miles from my school. I worked almost every day after school. I would go home and study after work, but not before grabbing a bite from one of the fast food places on my way home.
Summer 2013- I got a new job at a CVS Pharmacy near my grandmother’s house and made the decision not to return to Prairie View the following semester. Due to some family issues, I moved out of my grandparents house and in with my Aunt who lived just a few miles away. During my time at CVS, I was extremely broke due to saving up to pay for my technical education which I would begin in November. I ate whatever I could afford – which was normally fast food or candy I had bought in bulk or on clearance after a holiday.
December 2013- I decided to move from my Aunt’s house back in with my mother. I wanted to better my relationship with my sisters, one of whom was expecting her first child. I had started school a month earlier and unfortunately my eating habits had only gotten worse. I would wake up at 10:30 every day, leave for school at 11:00, and swing through a drive through on my way there. On days I felt particularly health-conscious, I would try to abstain from lunch, only to end up caving on my way home around 5:00 and binge eating 2 orders of fries and 10 chicken nuggets, or 2 pizzas from Subway. This continued until the day I graduated in late June.
July 2014- I graduated school and moved into my new home near my grandmother, with my cousin as my roommate. My energy level was at an all-time low, as were my finances. I was holding on to every single penny. I was no longer able to swing through a drive-through for an order of fries. I was eating Ramen noodles once, sometimes twice a day. At the end of July, I was offered a job about 25 miles from my house. I accepted and began working 12-hour days in the heat. My health was so poor, I almost quit. I loved the job, but absolutely hated the heat and long hours on my feet. I somehow managed to stick to it. This is the first time I can remember turning to food for comfort. I would get off a 12 hours shift and think “I worked really hard today – I deserve Whataburger.”
August 2014 to January 2015- I had fallen back in to the vicious cycle of eating fast food every single day. Weekends were only slightly better – I would go to a restaurant with my friends or sister and order anything and everything I wanted. The newfound financial security coupled with my mindset of entitlement to a daily reward in the form of food is what eventually got me to my highest weight. I reached my highest weight right after Christmas after a month of birthday celebrations and holiday feasts.
Early February 2015- Although I was flirting with my most unhealthy weight so far, I had bigger things to worry about. I had a new car, which brought about a car note and an insurance payment. In addition, things were getting dicey between my roommate and I as I was preparing for my first international vacation to a resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. My mindset shifted from “treat yourself” to “just make it out of the country”. I was more stressed than ever before. Eating became just another item on my list of things to do, like brushing my teeth or doing laundry. When we finally got to our resort, I had another problem. The food! Or should I say, lack thereof. There was only a few restaurants on the resort to choose from, and they were all sit-down family type restaurants. No fast food, no drive throughs, nothing. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have access to an order of French fries at the exact moment I thought about them. I didn’t have the means to immediately satisfy my hunger (*cough* boredom) at any time of the day or night. My newly developed reliance on food as a source of comfort had come back to bite me in the ass, and boy, was it biting hard. I made it a point on the second day of our trip to go to the one store on the resort and purchase extremely overprices sodas and snacks for our hotel room. I think I ended up spending $40 that day – just for 3 sodas, 2 bags of chips, a container of pringles, a candy bar, and a bag of M&Ms. However, believe it or not, I still didn’t realize I had a problem. I would sleep my mornings away – waking up at noon after all the good restaurants were closed. I would drag my grandmother and aunt to the one restaurant that was open at that time of day, the buffet, and eat to my heart’s content. Just the thought of not having the option to grab a burger later on in the afternoon was enough to make me stuff my face. I would go back 3, 4, sometimes even 5 times to the buffet and eat everything I put on my plate. I would then either be lethargic and opt out of the adventures I had previously planned for the day, or I would reluctantly allow myself to be dragged to the pool or beach where I would down Pina Coladas like there was no tomorrow. As beautiful as the island was, I was relieved when it came time for us to leave and fly back home. When we arrived home, I was ecstatic. I didn’t go out to eat that night because we got in very late, but I was in a restaurant the very next day eating to my heart’s content.
Mid-February 2015- Things were great, or so it would appear. I was back at work, and back to eating fast food every day. When people asked me how my vacation was, I struggled to find positive feedback to give them. I focused on how beautiful the island was and how wonderful our hotel was. When the topic came around to food, the conversation always seemed to take a negative turn. Not being able to talk about my very exotic, very expensive vacation with a clean conscience was my first sign that maaaaaaybe something wasn’t right. After all, it had been a wonderful vacation. I had enjoyed myself thoroughly – but inside my own head, the food-related anxiety I felt clouded my judgement and impaired many of my decisions. And then, we started getting pictures back. People would post photos from the vacation on Facebook, I received cards from the bride and groom (who had a destination wedding, hence our family vacation). And I couldn’t help but cringe looking at myself in those photos. These were photos from a wedding, a joyous occasion, a joining of lives, a union of souls… And then, there was me. Chaney. Round. In my white dress with my hair pulled back. Something about the way I looked in those photos stuck with me. And I can’t describe it in any way except painful. Like when you’re eating a tortilla chip and you swallow it the wrong way and it scrapes your throat in a way that brings tears to your eyes. The image of me in the celebratory wedding photos was imprinted into the back of my mind permanently. Although I was the youngest person featured in the photo, and I was also the largest. The most awkward looking of the whole bunch (and there was a guy on a scooter, that’s hard to beat). I never cried over the way I looked in that photo, because at the time I thought I looked amazing and was very confident with myself. But that one photo, taken from a very high and awkward angle, was the equivalent of the universe holding a mirror up in front of my face. I don’t know how to explain what happened next. Something changed. The cosmos flipped a switch, and all of a sudden my priority became happiness from every angle. This translates into every area of my life. That day my philosophy became and remains “If it doesn’t make me money, make me happy, or make me skinny, I don’t have time for it.”
Late February- I don’t remember for how long my best friend had been saying she was going to get a gym membership. Months, I think. She was looking at a gym really far away from both of our homes. But thankfully (I’m looking straight at you, Jesus, thank ya Lord) a Planet Fitness opened up near her house. It also happened to be on my way home from work. Her fiancé offered to pay for her membership, and she started working out there. I had never been inclined to work out with her when she asked the first 9 million times, but ever since my cosmos switch flipping episode, I was praying for her to ask again, and eventually my prayers were answered. I went to the gym with her for the first time on February 24th, 2015. And that’s where my journey began.
