Mistaken Identity

“Hey, are you related to the other guy who works here?”

Someone asked me that not long ago at work. The question puzzled me. At the time, I was the only guy who worked there at all. In fact, I was the only guy who had worked at my workplace in more than two decades. All of my coworkers had always been ladies.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m the only guy here.”

“No,” he told me, and he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The other guy who works here–he’s kind of, you know, big. Are you his brother or cousin or something?”

That’s when I understood.

The man was asking about me.

I had lost so much weight that he was asking if I was my own brother.

Let me tell you my story.

My name is Clint. I am a 35-year-old librarian from Tennessee, and I have lost more than 170 pounds in a little over a year.

I didn’t have any surgeries. I haven’t taken any weight-loss pills. I’m not a runner or a weightlifter. And I don’t have a miracle cure for obesity. What I have is an inspirational story, and I want to share it as widely as possible.

The Problem

A year ago, I topped out at 410 pounds. Each day I ate multiple chicken biscuits for breakfast, and at least two or three times per month I had entire large pizzas for dinner. I guzzled soft drinks by the liter. And I got very little exercise. Everything about my diet was excessive. I ate far too much, far too often, and the object of my indulgence was always food of the worst kind.

At my heaviest, my BMI was 52.6. My waist was 56 inches. I wore a 5XL t-shirt. And in late June 2018, after a near-fainting spell at church prompted my wife to schedule a doctor’s appointment for me without my approval, I discovered that I had Type II diabetes.

To be more specific, my A1C was 13.5. The first time I checked my blood sugar, it was in the 320s. These are dangerously high numbers for diabetics.

The doctor told me that if I didn’t make a major change immediately, I would probably die an early death, and that I would most certainly suffer a number of horrible health problems and complications, problems which could include blindness, loss of digits and limbs, and even paralysis-inducing stroke.

It was the wake-up call that I needed.

But at first, I fought it. I fought it tooth and nail. When my wife told me that I had to get serious about my health, I actually told her, “You’ve got to die of something.”

The truth was, I was afraid, and I felt hopeless. I knew that I needed to lose weight. I had known for a long time. But that huge starting number seemed insurmountable. I thought there was little chance that I could lose down to a healthy weight, and even if I could, that it would probably take me years to get there.

The first enemy I had to conquer was myself. And I did that thanks to the love of a good woman.

With the patience of a saint, my wife meticulously worked to help me fight this disease. She is a pediatrician and her father a type 2 diabetic, so she had a strong foundation of knowledge, but she continued to learn as much as she could about diabetes for my benefit.

She diligently read all the food labels and cooked every meal I ate for those first few months. She taught me what foods I should eat and what foods I should avoid. She showed me how to check my blood sugar. Together we methodically and intently monitored my weight.

She convinced me that I could do it by showing me that I could.

She showed me a deeper love than I deserved. It is a daily lesson in grace; a demonstration of Christlike love like none other I’ve ever experienced.

The Movement

One thing I learned early on in this journey is that exercise is the magic button that lowers my blood sugar quickly and efficiently.

That first night I tried walking a few laps around my parents’ driveway. I didn’t make it far before I was drenched in sweat and huffing and puffing like an old locomotive.

My dad has been a runner for three decades. The first night that I walked around his driveway, he came out to join me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, between breaths, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’re about to die,” he said. Dad is the soul of gentleness.

But he was only half-kidding. He walked with me that night, and we made a pact that we would walk around his driveway every night, regardless of the weather.

While we have, admittedly, missed a few nights for one reason or another, we have, indeed, walked in all kinds of weather.

Pouring rain, oppressive heat, spitting snow, tornado warnings, plagues of locusts, dogs and cats living together; we’ve walked in it all, usually three miles a night.

By walking each step beside me, Dad has also demonstrated Christlike love for me, and he has added self-discipline to the long list of things that he has taught me over the years.

Without his help–and the help of my mother, who spent many hours praying that I would change my unhealthy eating habits–I couldn’t have done this. I could barely make a lap around his driveway when Dad and I began to walk. But by his commitment of time and energy, we have walked hundreds of miles together, and he has taught me the critical importance of following through.

The Formula

I wish I could tell you that I had a magic bullet for curing obesity. Unfortunately, one doesn’t exist. Anything that promises you that losing weight will be easy or effortless is a lie.

With that in mind, for me, losing weight has boiled down to three key factors:

1. Eating an appropriate amount of carbohydrates and exercising daily.
2. Monitoring and logging my weight, meals, and blood sugar.
3. Accountability from loved ones.

I have tried fad diets and paid weight loss groups in the past. They always worked temporarily, but I would always gain back twice the weight that I had lost shortly after they ended.

This three-pronged formula has taken me down more than 170 pounds, helped me lose more than 20 inches from my waist, and dropped my A1C more than 8 points.

It is not easy. In fact, it is incredibly difficult. But it is also incredibly worth it.

On days that I stick to that formula, I almost always lose weight. On days that one part slips, I almost never do.

I am not a diet expert or a nutritionist. I can’t promise that what has worked for me will work for you, as each metabolism is, indeed, very different.

But what I can do is share my story with you, and if that gives you the push that you need to live a healthier, longer, fuller life, then I will consider myself a success.

Come with me as I become half the guy I used to be.