100lbs Gone!

This morning, I stepped on the scale and saw a number that made me cry — not out of sadness, but pure joy. 100 pounds down. From 255 to 155. Just 15 pounds away from my goal weight of 140. I stood there in disbelief, tears in my eyes, realizing that I actually did it. After everything — every struggle, every setback, every moment I thought I couldn’t keep going — I made it here.

When I had bariatric surgery in March 2025, I knew I was taking a huge leap. I didn’t go into it thinking it would be easy. I didn’t expect it to be some magic fix or overnight miracle. I was simply tired. Tired of fighting my body. Tired of gaining instead of losing. Tired of looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself.

After having kids, losing weight felt impossible. My body had been through so much — pregnancies, hormones, exhaustion, and stress. I tried every diet, every workout plan, every quick fix you can think of. And each time I lost a little, I gained back double. The weight started taking a toll on my mental health. I was breaking inside. I reached a point where I just couldn’t take it anymore. So yes — surgery became the best option for me.

And let me tell you, a gastric sleeve is not easy.

It’s a full-on journey — physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s painful. It’s exhausting. You go through phases of regret, frustration, and victory all in the same week. I had to relearn my body — how it reacts to food, how it heals, how it speaks to me.

And in the beginning? My body fought me. I couldn’t even walk for the first few months because I developed tendinitis in all my limbs. I felt trapped in my own body again — only this time, I knew this pain was leading somewhere better. It wasn’t easy, but I pushed through every ache, every tear, every “what did I do to myself?” moment.

But here’s something I’ve learned: having a support system makes all the difference. I truly don’t think I could’ve made it through this journey without my husband, Cody. He’s been my rock through it all — my biggest cheerleader and my constant reminder that I’m stronger than I think. When I couldn’t walk, he helped me take those first steps. When I couldn’t keep my medicine down, he sat beside me, encouraging me to keep going. He stayed positive through every hard moment, helping me through the healing process one day at a time. Having him by my side made the darkest days feel a little lighter.

My health, which used to feel like an endless battle, is now something I’m proud of. My plantar fasciitis is gone — I can walk without wincing in pain. My gastritis has calmed down, and I can finally eat without feeling like I’m being punished for it. My non-alcoholic fatty liver disease has improved tremendously. I can walk better, breathe easier, and even enjoy exercising. It doesn’t feel like torture anymore — it feels like freedom.

But there were challenges I never expected. I had to stop taking my mental health medication, Sertraline, because it didn’t sit well with my tiny new stomach and made me extremely sick. That was one of the hardest adjustments — trying to heal my body while my mind felt like it was fighting me. Thankfully, therapy became my lifeline. It helped me work through the emotional waves that come after surgery — the body changes, the identity shifts, the days when I didn’t feel like myself. Therapy reminded me that healing is more than physical — it’s deeply mental and emotional too.

Now, I’ve hit that 100-pound mark. And while the journey has been tough, it’s also been full of small victories that add up to something incredible. I’ve met my monthly goals. I’ve stuck to the diet. I’ve learned discipline and grace like never before.

Food no longer controls me. I used to crave food when I was depressed — I’d drown my emotions in sweets, hoping sugar could heal what my heart couldn’t. Now? I reach for yogurt, or I simply sit with the feeling and let it pass. I don’t gorge anymore. I don’t chase comfort in food — I find it in peace, in progress, and in how far I’ve come.

And yes — there are new struggles. I’m always cold now! Sleeping with two comforters is officially my new normal. My metabolism has changed, and my body still surprises me daily. But I wouldn’t trade it. Not a single thing.

Some people supported my decision. Others judged it. People talk — they’ll always have something to say when they see you changing, especially when you start putting yourself first. But this journey isn’t about proving anyone wrong. It’s about proving to myself that I can do hard things.

This hasn’t been a quick fix — it’s been a rebirth.

I’ve shed more than weight; I’ve shed guilt, shame, and the heavy belief that I wasn’t capable. Every pound lost has been a piece of that old version of me I no longer need.

Now, I wake up and I feel lighter in every way — body, mind, and spirit. I’m learning to love the woman I see in the mirror again. And as I head toward that final 15 pounds, I’m not chasing a number anymore — I’m chasing health, happiness, and healing.

To anyone who’s struggling, who’s tried it all, who feels like giving up — you’re not alone. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is ask for help, take the leap, and start over. It’s not easy, but it’s worth every step.

Here’s to 100 pounds gone — to the pain, the strength, the growth — and to the strongest, healthiest, happiest version of me yet. 💪💖