How I did it - Part 1

In August 2007 I weighed 136 pounds, with a cholesterol level of 223.


Now, in December 2009, I weigh 111 pounds, and my cholesterol level remains unknown, but I'm hoping it has gone significantly down.


Here's how I did it.


Background: My life building up to "that" moment


As an Asian-American girl in southern California, I have always felt bigger and slightly overweight (I was never obese, though). My calves were (and are still) abnormally muscular, and my chest felt noticeably large for my height at a mere four feet eleven inches. Assured kindly by my friends that I was average and "definitely not fat," I thought my insecurity was just something I had to overcome with boosted self-esteem. That didn't stop me from dieting, though. Time and again I reduced my meal portions and gave up certain food groups, but to no avail. These bouts often left me defeated in social settings among thin friends, which, for some reason, always revolved around food. Over time, I made myself feel better by attributing my inability to be thin to my genes. Thus put at ease, I snacked. I ate. 
Now, I did do a good bit of physical activity. I was in the volleyball and swim teams, danced for a couple of years and had a decent mile time. Sedentary living wasn't my thing, so I had all the more reason to pin my genes as the culprit.


Anyway, the summer after I graduated high school, I decided it'd be fun to get a job at Disneyland for money and working experience. This entailed eight hours of standing, pacing, shelving, fake smile and fake laughing. Good prices were knocked down to ridiculous prices (for Disneyland) for employees, but as it was my first time making my own money, I didn't want to squander my earnings on food. Soon enough, I trained my stomach to survive on one small meal and one snack for the whole day while also standing on my feet for eight hours straight. By the end of the job, I had lost a significant amount of weight, and even went down a size and a half! It was exhilarating and exciting. I was finally ready to go to college, to make new friends!


College: The Freshman 15??


Two years later, I was sitting in the waiting room of a clinic waiting for my checkup--Mom thought I should get one. When the nurse called my name to begin the usual procedures, I braced myself. I hadn't weighed myself in years to maintain ignorant bliss. I could see all the extra weight and fat I gained after two years of college (my, my, isn't Facebook a grand thing?). Embarrassing and disgusting. All I did freshman and sophomore year was eat ice cream, chocolate and greasy fast food to curb fatigue and stress. Walking miles in Boston wasn't enough, obviously, to make up for all the guilty pleasures I indulged. My weight loss before college had gotten to my head and I thought I was finally okay. I only realized later that it was my starving myself that made me shed pounds, not entirely the work. That had probably slowed my metabolism down, and when I began eating regularly again, the rate of my weight gain was merciless.


"Step on the scale, please," directed the nurse. I closed my eyes as I heard the knob move up, and up, and up. 


Wow, is it that much?, I thought, peeking through my lids to watch.


"136," she muttered and recorded. I fought to keep my face stoic, while I freaked out inside. When did this happen?! How am I 26 pounds heavier than I expected? I thought I had lost a good bit on a mission trip, too. 


Even the doctor looked at the chart and quietly told me that I could do to lose at least 10 pounds. I went home embarrassed, embittered and overwhelmed. If I could not keep my weight before 136, how was I supposed to LOSE 10 pounds? The future looked bleak--one that would consist of constantly fighting my genes to stay at even an average weight. And yes, by this time, my friends had begun to say that I was "chubby, in a cute way." 


And then, my blood tests came in.


My eyes scanned and saw nothing abnormal, until I spied a circled number.


Cholesterol: 223. Pen ink circled the number with a little note, "too high."


I was not even 21, and I had high cholesterol. And I was overweight.


That was it.


It was time to get my act together and do something about myself.


To be continued...

A Different Angle

I'm surprised that Los Angeles doesn't have more events for World Aids Day. You'd think that California, a blue state, wouldn't contain all of its AIDs events in San Francisco, though it's understandable that there would be a lot more of them up there.

I searched for some around here, and saw only one that I could make: a musical presentation of "Red Ribbon," put on by Hollywood Remembers. So along with my cousin, Katie, I attended the event to see what it was all about.

"Red Ribbon" wasn't really spectacular; the vocals were sometimes off-pitch, there was little dialog that spread much awareness of the disease (in my opinion) and the technicals were done poorly. However, the speakers compelled and informed with passion and inspiration. I admit that I don't know much about this issue at all - which is why I went - and have come out of the event more curious about the issues and research behind the disease.

I have gotten into the habit of making entries short, by the way, so as not to just babble and bore. Anyway, the night made me think of how I myself viewed the AIDs issue as a Christian. Yes, I have heard it labeled as a disease for the immoral who don't practice safe sex or just shoot up drugs for a life, but I don't think I've necessarily passed judgment. Still, I didn't show any real compassion or desire to learn more about the issue, either, and indifference is worse. 

My beliefs have been teaching me that it really doesn't matter what the person has done; it matters how I can take action to help. The judgment I leave up to God at the end of days, but I have strict beliefs that He has called me to help the needy and the impoverished. I disdain the "God helps those who help themselves" mentality that people adopt when it comes to community service. Whether or not they realize it, it's something that poisons those we mentor or befriend. People begin believing that spiritual maturity lies within one's ability to uphold certain moral standards or daily practices. But no...no, no, no. Even if I can't share the Gospel with someone, I still can help them in their poverty or desperate state. 

And that's what I'd like to do. I'd like to care unconditionally, love unconditionally, service unconditionally.

This is what my God has done for me, and I am determined to do the same for others.