The Scars of Obesity: I Was There

I’ve officially lost 100 pounds, ran more than 300 5k’s and have multiple half marathons in the books. And I’m still going strong chasing impossible goals.

Often times when I pass a milestone I like to reflect on the journey thus far. A moment to pause and remember the weight I once carried.

Below are my genuine thoughts from who I once was— written from the perspective of who I am now. This is me looking back with honesty, humility, and gratitude for the journey that changed everything.

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There’s a truth that lingers long after the weight is gone—the emotional scars of obesity. The quiet, painful moments that most people never see. I remember them all because I lived them. I know exactly what it’s like to feel like a stranger in your own body, to be held captive by habits, shame, and fear. This isn’t a motivational quote or some hashtag-driven inspiration post. This is real life.

I remember the need to hold my breath just to tie my shoes. I remember breathing heavy after walking up just one flight of stairs. I remember strategically manipulating household duties so they were less of a chore. I remember waiting for closer parking spots at the grocery store so I could walk less.

I remember tugging on the bottom of my shirt; trying to hide the outline of my stomach. I remember staying in bed longer— delaying the inevitable moment I had to face the world. I remember declining going with my wife and kids to the pool because I was embarrassed with how I looked in a swimsuit.

I didn’t feel like myself. My clothes were never just clothes—they were camouflage, barriers, shields. Every mirror was an enemy. Every photo a reminder.

Obesity doesn’t just affect your health—it weighs on your soul. It chips away at your confidence, your self-worth, your sense of identity. People who haven’t been there often don’t understand that it’s not just about overeating. It’s not just about moving less. It’s emotional. It’s mental. It’s spiritual. It becomes woven into your life, until you begin to believe that this is just the way things are.

But I fought.

And I’m still fighting.

There’s no magic switch. Change didn’t come overnight. I had to claw my way back, one painful, stubborn, determined choice at a time. I had to face the demons I’d fed for years—comfort eating, self-sabotage, the fear of failure. I had to learn to show up when I didn’t feel like it. I had to show up especially when I didn’t feel like it. I had to learn discipline is far superior to motivation.

I had to choose better—not once, but over and over, every day. I had to learn to live with discipline and purpose. I had to become my own ally, not my worst critic.

Today, I push myself beyond what I ever believed possible. But none of that would matter if I forget what it took to get here.

I will never forget.

I will never forget what it was like to be obese, to feel trapped and unsure. And that’s why I will always be able to relate to anyone who’s still there. You’re not alone, and you’re not beyond help. I’ve walked that path. I’ve carried that weight—literally and emotionally. And I know what it takes to rise from it.

I write this not as someone who’s “better” now, but as someone who understands. As someone who remembers. If you’re still in the dark, if you’re still out of breath just tying your shoes or tugging at your shirt hoping no one notices—know this:

You can fight.

You can win.

And you are not alone.

I’ve been there.

I made it out.

So can you.

Andrew Frizzell | Iron Will Weight Loss