Be sure to tune in today to catch a glimpse of OBC's own Bridget Seng as she shows off her before pants and her new OBC bod! Oprah.com
Read Bridget's story below:
It was April of 2009, I had just arrived home from a beach vacation with my family and I was
downloading photos from our trip. I sat at my desk looking at the photos—the cute ones of the kids in the sand, my husband holding our daughter in the ocean and then…sheer horror! It was a picture of me, or someone who looked vaguely like me—me, wearing a FAT SUIT. What was even more mortifying was that I had just lost 30lbs! Always choosing to be the one holding the camera and not being the one photographed—clearly this one had slipped past me. I would have fallen out of my chair if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was so fat and wedged into the chair I probably couldn't have fallen out if I tried. I have titled that photo as "Oh NO! I can't possibly be this fat. My face, my back, my arms-- the sheer girth of me was disgusting. Who was this fat person?! I had to remind myself that I had survived two very difficult pregnancies. With my second pregnancy, I was at a very high risk of not making it or of my son not making it. I was depressed, scared and in so much pain I couldn't sleep, walk, or sit. Honestly, there were days I hurt so bad I wanted to die. I still remember overhearing my doctor tell my husband that he should not be prepared for Post Partum depression but for Post Tramatic Stress Syndrome… it was *that* kind of bad. But here I was now on the other side of all that pain and fear with two beautiful children and a husband that loved me yet feeling empty and horrible inside.
I use to walk around thinking “Where are all the other fat moms hiding?!” I can’t be the biggest fatty in town, right? But it sure seemed that way. At the park. Fat Mom. At the preschool picnic. Fat Mom. Grocery Store. Fat Mom. Even stuck on a slide in a bouncey house. Yes, that’s me. Fat Mom.
And then that was IT…
Without hesitating one more minute, I sat there (still wedged in my chair) and called Jenny Craig. I had just seen adorable Italian Valerie Bertinelli on Oprah & the cover of People magazine and if she could do it… then this Italian girl could do it! I’ll never forget stepping on the scale that next day. 210 lbs. There were no words. 34 years old, 5’ 3” tall and 210 lbs. Every week, I went and weighed in… sometimes it was 2 lbs, sometimes it was ½ lb. Every week, I said goodbye to those pounds. Fat take note “You are not coming back”. And it was hard. Really hard. In fact, one day my wonderful Jenny Craig consultant told me that I had “to date” lost close to 30 lbs. I must have had a funny look on my face because she looked at me and said, “Aren’t you happy with that?” I said “I am… but I just realized that I’ve lost 30 pounds and not ONE person has noticed.” You know you are fat when you lose 30 pounds and no one even notices! I knew this new goal of mine to lose these additional 60 lbs was my goal. It was about me, not anyone else. But even still it felt like another blow. I was *still* realizing just how far I had to go. And I knew that if I didn’t find a way to keep going, I would quit.
I found another way. C’mon Valerie—talk to me, girlfriend. And there it was in her book. Her trainer had told her she was going to run. To which she responded “Oh no, I’m not a runner.” Something I had told myself too many times to count. And then she ran down the block, a 5k, a 10k, a half marathon… AMAZING! Slowly I started setting small goals: walk a 5k, check. Walk/run a 5k, check. Just move! I walked and pushed that double stroller up and down what felt like every hill in Atlanta. And all the while I felt my body changing but s-l-o-w-l-y. Finally, at about 35 lbs, people started asking me if I’d lost “a few pounds”—it took all my will power not to scream “NOOOO, I haven’t lost a *few* pounds, I’ve lost 60 pounds”. Again, I felt deflated. And at that point, still another 30 lbs from my goal I needed another challenge. I was stuck. It was a few weeks and my weight had stabilized. I started thinking about the last time that I felt like I was in good shape. College. Sadly, that might have been the best shape of my life. Playing women’s Football at Notre Dame. Having a coach “encourage” me to run, hit, sprint, push up, sit up. That was the last time. And so it hit me like a lightning bolt… I would sign up for Boot Camp.
There I went signing up for Boot Camp within 5 minutes and then not sleeping that entire night I was so sick with worry. What was I thinking? Will I get hurt again? What if I can’t do it? And who in the hell wakes up at 5 am in the morning to work out?!
That morning came and I went. I almost died during our 1 mile run. I had NEVER run a mile in my life. I came home and laid on the floor. I was so nauseous I couldn’t get up for 30 minutes. My sweet husband saw my “green” face and took the kids to the other room. The next day I went back. And I went every day for 8 weeks. Every day I was so sore and so out of breathe I wasn’t sure I could make it. And every day I was the last person to “finish”. But slowly things started to change. I started to change. I started realizing how strong I was. How all the crap that life had handed me didn't make me a victim it had only made me stronger. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. And in the end, I realized I was only competing with myself. As long as I was setting goals and meeting those goals for myself, I was winning my own race.
Next the realization came that we make all these assumptions about what we can and can’t accomplish. That somehow because I wasn’t a morning person or because I had children or because I was never a “runner” meant that I couldn’t still decide who I was going to be in this life. I got in my own way, I’d allowed food to get in my way, and I’d allowed other people to get in my way. And it was right there, doing pushups in the park with grass in my mouth and covered in mud— that I found my way to the person I wanted to be.
In August of 2010, I ran my first 5k. Next it was a 10k. Slowly but surely, month after month of boot camp, I continued. On February 27th I ran the Disney Princess Half Marathon. 13.1 miles. Something I never dreamed I could do. EVER. I will never forget the look on my daughters face when she saw me at mile 12. I realized at that moment, I had changed all of our lives. After the race, I went to take my medal off and she said, “No, Mom. Let’s wear our medals so everyone knows we are runners”. I had to laugh—it was a good reminder to me, that I was, in fact, a runner.
Today, I have lost over 100 lbs, run 2 half marathon and am a Boot Camp Instructor! More importantly I am the accountability contact to two new campers this month who are over 250 lbs and have asked me to be help them and guide them on their journey. I have never been more honored. Ironically, they are inspiring me to keep going. My next stop—the 2011 Chicago Marathon.
Someone recently said to me you are “half the person you use to be”…well, just about. What I have lost, gave me my life back. I realized that I might be in the best shape of my life at 35 years old and I want to keep going. I like myself better. I like the mother and partner I am better. And I'm not going to stop. I am a fighter. I found my way to the person I am meant to be. And my advice to anyone out there like me… set a goal, find a pack of friends who will have your back and just start.
Start. Right. Now.
downloading photos from our trip. I sat at my desk looking at the photos—the cute ones of the kids in the sand, my husband holding our daughter in the ocean and then…sheer horror! It was a picture of me, or someone who looked vaguely like me—me, wearing a FAT SUIT. What was even more mortifying was that I had just lost 30lbs! Always choosing to be the one holding the camera and not being the one photographed—clearly this one had slipped past me. I would have fallen out of my chair if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was so fat and wedged into the chair I probably couldn't have fallen out if I tried. I have titled that photo as "Oh NO! I can't possibly be this fat. My face, my back, my arms-- the sheer girth of me was disgusting. Who was this fat person?! I had to remind myself that I had survived two very difficult pregnancies. With my second pregnancy, I was at a very high risk of not making it or of my son not making it. I was depressed, scared and in so much pain I couldn't sleep, walk, or sit. Honestly, there were days I hurt so bad I wanted to die. I still remember overhearing my doctor tell my husband that he should not be prepared for Post Partum depression but for Post Tramatic Stress Syndrome… it was *that* kind of bad. But here I was now on the other side of all that pain and fear with two beautiful children and a husband that loved me yet feeling empty and horrible inside.
I use to walk around thinking “Where are all the other fat moms hiding?!” I can’t be the biggest fatty in town, right? But it sure seemed that way. At the park. Fat Mom. At the preschool picnic. Fat Mom. Grocery Store. Fat Mom. Even stuck on a slide in a bouncey house. Yes, that’s me. Fat Mom.
And then that was IT…
Without hesitating one more minute, I sat there (still wedged in my chair) and called Jenny Craig. I had just seen adorable Italian Valerie Bertinelli on Oprah & the cover of People magazine and if she could do it… then this Italian girl could do it! I’ll never forget stepping on the scale that next day. 210 lbs. There were no words. 34 years old, 5’ 3” tall and 210 lbs. Every week, I went and weighed in… sometimes it was 2 lbs, sometimes it was ½ lb. Every week, I said goodbye to those pounds. Fat take note “You are not coming back”. And it was hard. Really hard. In fact, one day my wonderful Jenny Craig consultant told me that I had “to date” lost close to 30 lbs. I must have had a funny look on my face because she looked at me and said, “Aren’t you happy with that?” I said “I am… but I just realized that I’ve lost 30 pounds and not ONE person has noticed.” You know you are fat when you lose 30 pounds and no one even notices! I knew this new goal of mine to lose these additional 60 lbs was my goal. It was about me, not anyone else. But even still it felt like another blow. I was *still* realizing just how far I had to go. And I knew that if I didn’t find a way to keep going, I would quit.
I found another way. C’mon Valerie—talk to me, girlfriend. And there it was in her book. Her trainer had told her she was going to run. To which she responded “Oh no, I’m not a runner.” Something I had told myself too many times to count. And then she ran down the block, a 5k, a 10k, a half marathon… AMAZING! Slowly I started setting small goals: walk a 5k, check. Walk/run a 5k, check. Just move! I walked and pushed that double stroller up and down what felt like every hill in Atlanta. And all the while I felt my body changing but s-l-o-w-l-y. Finally, at about 35 lbs, people started asking me if I’d lost “a few pounds”—it took all my will power not to scream “NOOOO, I haven’t lost a *few* pounds, I’ve lost 60 pounds”. Again, I felt deflated. And at that point, still another 30 lbs from my goal I needed another challenge. I was stuck. It was a few weeks and my weight had stabilized. I started thinking about the last time that I felt like I was in good shape. College. Sadly, that might have been the best shape of my life. Playing women’s Football at Notre Dame. Having a coach “encourage” me to run, hit, sprint, push up, sit up. That was the last time. And so it hit me like a lightning bolt… I would sign up for Boot Camp.
There I went signing up for Boot Camp within 5 minutes and then not sleeping that entire night I was so sick with worry. What was I thinking? Will I get hurt again? What if I can’t do it? And who in the hell wakes up at 5 am in the morning to work out?!
That morning came and I went. I almost died during our 1 mile run. I had NEVER run a mile in my life. I came home and laid on the floor. I was so nauseous I couldn’t get up for 30 minutes. My sweet husband saw my “green” face and took the kids to the other room. The next day I went back. And I went every day for 8 weeks. Every day I was so sore and so out of breathe I wasn’t sure I could make it. And every day I was the last person to “finish”. But slowly things started to change. I started to change. I started realizing how strong I was. How all the crap that life had handed me didn't make me a victim it had only made me stronger. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. And in the end, I realized I was only competing with myself. As long as I was setting goals and meeting those goals for myself, I was winning my own race.
Next the realization came that we make all these assumptions about what we can and can’t accomplish. That somehow because I wasn’t a morning person or because I had children or because I was never a “runner” meant that I couldn’t still decide who I was going to be in this life. I got in my own way, I’d allowed food to get in my way, and I’d allowed other people to get in my way. And it was right there, doing pushups in the park with grass in my mouth and covered in mud— that I found my way to the person I wanted to be.
In August of 2010, I ran my first 5k. Next it was a 10k. Slowly but surely, month after month of boot camp, I continued. On February 27th I ran the Disney Princess Half Marathon. 13.1 miles. Something I never dreamed I could do. EVER. I will never forget the look on my daughters face when she saw me at mile 12. I realized at that moment, I had changed all of our lives. After the race, I went to take my medal off and she said, “No, Mom. Let’s wear our medals so everyone knows we are runners”. I had to laugh—it was a good reminder to me, that I was, in fact, a runner.
Today, I have lost over 100 lbs, run 2 half marathon and am a Boot Camp Instructor! More importantly I am the accountability contact to two new campers this month who are over 250 lbs and have asked me to be help them and guide them on their journey. I have never been more honored. Ironically, they are inspiring me to keep going. My next stop—the 2011 Chicago Marathon.
Someone recently said to me you are “half the person you use to be”…well, just about. What I have lost, gave me my life back. I realized that I might be in the best shape of my life at 35 years old and I want to keep going. I like myself better. I like the mother and partner I am better. And I'm not going to stop. I am a fighter. I found my way to the person I am meant to be. And my advice to anyone out there like me… set a goal, find a pack of friends who will have your back and just start.
Start. Right. Now.
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