This challenge starts tomorrow.  I'll start tomorrow.  Starting tomorrow....That was my mantra for most of my adult life. I'll start tomorrow, or I'll start Monday. I have been thin and active in the past. I have a small frame and wasn't built to hold weight. Now, I weigh 319.0 pounds.  My weight gain was in large chunks.  I am nothing, if not an acheiver, at gaining weight, HA. The first major weight gain I experienced, was after high school during college.  I would say, it was the first time I was in a very serious relationship that would (and did) result in marriage, and I guess I was hiding myself. I'm 5'11" and went from supermodel thin (145 lbs) to a cool 240.  See? I told you I was good at gaining weight (I've discovered that I'm a binge-eater, but more on that later).  Next up? Pregnancy.  I didn't have a period. I'd been married a year and thought I'd gained so much weight, it was affecting my "cycle."  Nope. I was pregnant.  Married a year, 23 years old, I was about to have a baby. I gained only 12 pounds.  Mostly because I threw up every single day, but I obviously had plenty of weight already, and my body didn't need more.  After the birth of my son, Sam, I decided I wanted to get healthy.  I started Weight Watchers, exercised five times a week, and did my first half marathon in January of 2006.  Then, baby #2.  With her, Katy, I gained 60+ pounds (born October 2007), and then before I knew it, was having #3, Bradley (born June 2009).  Great.  Now I had two babies' worth of weight back to back.  Again, I knew I could lose it.  I began watching calories and again began exercising daily (in the morning hours). I admit that going to the gym was only enticing because my toddler would arise early in the morning and thrash about in our bed while "watching" TV. Yep.  I'd rather go to the gym. After losing a lot of weight initially using an elliptical trainer, I focused on weights and got down to 225 lbs, wearing a size 14/16.  This was huge.  I was happy.  Then in July 2012 everything started to go downhill.  I had abdominal pain that was determined to be caused by an ovarian cyst.  I went into surgery for cyst removal, and left the hospital status post a hysterectomy.  Not the vaginal kind. The cut you wide open kind.  The go-to-sleep-and-wake-up-with-an-estrogen-kind-of-surprise.  I recovered remarkably and determined this was due to my good health and fitness level.  I know to many, 225 lbs seems like an extraordinary amount, but was advised by my doctor that my BMI was less than 30, and I had less than 30% body fat, and he was happy with me hovering around 220 lbs.  I liked being photographed. I took selfies and selfies with friends, and selfies with kids.  My husband took pictures of me constantly. I felt beautiful.  Now I felt like I wasn't a girl anymore. I had no girl parts. I slowly began to heal, physically, and within my soul.  On September 8, 2012, all of that changed as my dad, my lifeline, and my very best friend, had a massive stroke.  He was working full time and cared for my mom with disabilities.  He was beloved. He was ripped from my heart, and laid in a bed shivering on an ice pack with a 104 degree central nervous system fever, convulsing with periodic seizures, unable to talk, and unable to protect his airway.  We were advised his brain was beginning to swell, and made the decision to change his status to "Do not recussitate" or "DNR."  God was present and real. I was angry with him, so I felt his presence more.  Kind of like when your angry with a close family member-when they are close and in the house you are walking on egg shells and feeling most uncomfortable.  Leave me alone. Go to another room in the house. I don't want to see you. So I feel your presence more than ever......Dad's battle was a long one with lots of bumps.  He was placed at a convalescent home in PT/OT and had some slight improvements, but insurance limited days of therapy and eventually those ended.  My days became filled with working my full time "day job," caring for and planning logistically for my mom (who I even had to teach to get gas in her car because my dad did everything for her), working with an attorney's office to establish a Qualified Income Trust fund to filter salary dollars and maintain Medicaid eligibility for continued full time nursing home care beyond the therapy days.  I was consumed.  And so I also consumed. I took dad milkshakes daily.  For my trip, I charged him a hot fudge sundae and cookies.  Well, I paid for those so it wasn't really charging him. I was charging myself for my trouble. But it wasn't trouble. Dad would do anything for me. He would have come to see me every day. I couldn't let him down.  I was his "light" the nurses would tell me.  I knew already though.  The nursing home care deteriorated and he was treated for scabies twice. Then, they almost killed him. They gave him too much insulin. It wasn't an isolated incident. Then, I thought he was dying. I couldn't tell why and pushed for a hospital admission. Turned out he was malnurished and dehydrated.  He was in the hospital for seven days. Again, I was ANGRY. This time, though, I had a target that was here on earth, and solicited the help of another attorney's office. Eating. Eating. Eating. Dad would cry. I would cry because he was crying and he would cry because I was crying. He still parented me.  I would leave and get ice cream on the way home. The real kicker? I don't even really like ice cream. I hid food in my car. I went to multiple drive thru's a day. I would eat so many calories in one sitting that my body would literally become numb and I would somewhat zone out.  I got heavier and heavier. I would make fun of myself and announce my weight gain.  I kept eating though. Then I quit making fun of myself and slowly began hating myself.  My face, which I once thought was my most beautiful feature was fat.  My cheeks engulfed my mouth. I am disgusting. That is how you find me now. There are other facets of my story.  The thousands dollars I spent in a cellulite treatment, while thin, the other thousand dollars I spent on B12 shots after my dad's stroke.  I wasn't ready. I was 280-285 lbs.  The hundreds of dollars in psychotherapy for depression & binge eating after dad's stroke.  Oh yeah, and my older sister, with a dependent, narcissistic personality disorder, who contributed almost exclusively to my dad's stroke.  It's a combination of calorie-consuming muck that makes me who I am.  BUT I am ready.  I am on here because I have spent tons of money in the past and this is the only weight loss offer I've ever seen where you get PAID and/or at least don't pay. Right now, it may be just the money that it motivating me.  I know I'm heavy and can lose percentages of my body weight with fair ease.  But I hope that as I begin this journey it becomes less about the money and becomes more about a fight for my life. For my happiness. For my family and because I love me. That's the end of my first blog post.