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I used to be really fucking fat.  All my life until I was 28, with the brief exception of a few months in HS when I JUST BARELY made it to the normal BMI range, for like, a day.  I’ve never been completely out of shape, I took public transit until the spring of 2009 for recreation and work and walked quite a bit.  The problem was that I ate like a pig. 

On January 1 2008 my friend Elaine and I made a bet.  A diet bet.  I don’t remember the terms because we never actually followed up on it, but I weight 255 pounds that day.  Holy Crap!  Over the next few weeks I dropped down to around 243 by eating less junk, and there I stayed, until June. 

In June of 2008 I was particularly busy (i.e. not home eating) and a good friend at worked asked if I’d lost weight.  I hadn’t checked in a while, and sure enough, I was down to 238.  And for some reason, I was able to lose the weight this time.  I got serious.  I used the treadmill I bought shortly after graduating from college 6 years earlier, moved away from home later that year, and joined a gym (because my new basement was too cold in the winter for the treadmill).  I now go to the gym fairly regularly for aerobics classes.  I still hate the treadmill.