A Beautiful Work In Progress

by Mirna Valerio

MORBID OBESITY My spirits sank. I had never considered myself to be morbidly obese. In fact, that term hadn’t even existed for me until the doctor used it to diagnose my condition. Now “morbid obesity” defined me to that doctor. Having this diagnosis and descriptor added to my name made me cringe. I thought that people who were morbidly obese weighed like four or five hundred pounds. The condition belonged to folks with stomachs hanging past their privates, with double and triple chins jiggling as they laughed, with mobility issues that caused them to need to waddle around or ride in an electric chair at the supermarket. Of course, these are all stereotypes of people who live in big bodies, some of which do describe some people with morbid obesity. I suddenly found my mind wandering there. With these images in my head, I began in earnest to plan my return to fitness and overall health right then and there.

Exactly how I felt

when I was supposed to be working, so I tried diligently to do the following: Not ever get sick on a Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday. Not pass my cooties to my son who would then inevitably have to stay home from day care and dutifully pass them back to me. Not have any family emergencies ever, especially any time during the week. Not do anything that would make them think I had a life and family outside of work. Just go to work sick and deal with it later (always with severe physical and emotional consequences). There was no question in my mind that I would spend as much time at home in New York as I needed before heading back to Maryland. Family came first, and if those folks wanted to fire me because one of my favorite uncles had suffered a heart attack, then so be it. I also hadn’t signed my contract for the upcoming year anyway, so really, I didn’t give a crap. Again, family came first, and if they wanted to think that I was deliberately missing work because of the stress-related illnesses they had caused, then so be it.

Life > work

I was also elated to have finished the thing I thought I couldn’t do. I was feeling quite legit.

settled my sweaty butt into one of the café’s chairs. Yeah, I left a sweaty imprint . . .

Me whenever it's hot

I feel most in my element: animalistic, vibrant, and self-sufficient. I welcome the pain of moving beyond where my mind and body feel done. The mental pain is almost more suffocating than the physical.

it makes me a better human being. It makes me more patient with my own learning and myself. It teaches me that I can experience deep joy simply by doing.

aside from some fleeting disappointment, I still want to be out there, in nature. There is still a beauty about simply doing the difficult thing that I will never be good at, for the pure pleasure of having engaged in the process.

Moments—even those hard moments of self-doubt and the questioning of my sanity—keep me going,

During this journey, I approach the human being that I am meant to be.

I wanted to experience the natural beauty of Appalachia on my own terms, by cultivating an intimate relationship with the forest on a most basic level, running and walking for a few hours through the literal ups-and-downs of the mountains and those of my spirit.

Lean into the discomfort. To my diversity brain, the phrase means to embrace what is difficult so that you may progress.

Tackling a challenge head-on, embracing the suck, or leaning into the discomfort helps you grow in so many ways.

goal of surpassing our own low expectations, jumping into uncertainty, and doing what we thought was impossible. This has been my journey.

Always moving, with sense, with purpose, progressing along the spectrum of human possibility.

I’d like to think that I’m always standing at the precipice of change and progress, that I’m constantly on a ledge facing a wall of fear—a wall that, if I don’t break it intentionally, will hinder my evolution and stop my personal growth.

But each individual journey is a process—a unique way of being in the world, an exclusively human undertaking that is fraught with back stepping, stagnation, plateauing, and, perhaps most importantly, moving forward on the continuum toward greatness.

my health returned, and my smile became genuine again.

Most of the time, when I’m not wallowing in the depths of self-pity or self-loathing, I’m striving to be the best person I can be.

I am complex. I am more than what my body suggests to others visually.

When we stop moving in mind, body, and spirit, we stop learning. When we stop learning, we stop living. Therefore, when we stop moving, we stop living.

This body is fierce, beautiful, and unapologetic. It’s meant to move through the world as it wishes: lifting, walking, and running, rolls and all. Love handles, bouncy boobs, curves, tummy, butt, back fat, and all. I honor her by continuing to move along the spectrum of health and wellness, and in turn she honors me by living vibrantly. Fat girl running, swimming, moving, learning, pausing, progressing, jiggling, rubbing, chafing, shaking, sinking, rising, living, being.