By the time he hit 327 pounds, Robert Foster had been playing "the fat guy" for decades. His size was the thing that made him stand out.
Publicly, he embraced his
lifestyle as a "BBQ-lovin', beef-eatin', no-veggie-buyin'" male who
wore T-shirts flaunting his hefty size. There was a particularly
perverse one, he says looking back on it, which read "I beat anorexia."
Privately, he was
resentful that he wasn't thinner. He felt angry when he couldn't bear to
take his four little girls to the park because he was too exhausted
from unloading groceries. He resented being told he was too big for the
seat-belt latch on amusement park rides.
His wife, Jessica, was
also obese, at 287 pounds. Unlike Rob, she felt invisible. Customers at
the bank where she worked stared past her as they made their
transactions. In late 2011, a close family member made a comment at the
dinner table that stuck with her:
"She used to be something to look at. Not anymore."
In late March 2012, the
Colorado couple had an emotional conversation. Jess was coming up on her
30th birthday and was sick of the way she looked and felt. They had had
talks like this before, where they talked about needing to change, but
something was different that night.
"I adore my kids and I
love my husband very much, but there was that point I hated myself so
much. I wasn't giving them the full me because I was disgusted," Jess
said. "You have to look in the mirror and say, 'Am I going to allow this
to continue or am I going to stand up and make those changes?' A light
turned on upstairs."
The next week, she began
taking Zumba classes. In just a few weeks, she had lost 14 pounds --
enough to motivate her to take on new physical challenges. She moved on
to bikes and treadmills and made sure to sweat for an hour at least
three times a week. After that, there was no turning back, she said.
Rob was a little slower
to change -- the thought of going for a run was "unappealing to the
point of agony" -- but he started playing tennis and stopped taking
seconds at dinner.
In the summer of 2012,
they added other physical activities that didn't feel like working out,
like hiking and recreational swimming with their kids and friends. They
got hooked on the physical highs and wanted to do more.
Rob joined Jess in
training for a 5-kilometer race that December. He walked as much as he
ran, and Jess finished way ahead of him. But something in him changed.
"The race environment
and the high fives and the feeling of accomplishment became addicting to
me," he said. "After that day, I swore I would work to run a 5k without
slowing to a walk."
In Rob's words, "it got crazy from there."
The more he ran, the
more he felt he needed to run. When he put on his sneakers and took off,
"I felt like my whole life was skyrocketing upward," he said.
A few months after that
first 5k, he ran his second, this time without walking. Then he did his
first 10-mile run. And in May 2014, he ran his first marathon. By then
he was 160 pounds lighter.
Throughout the process,
the couple used a calorie-counting app to keep track of everything they
ate. They knew they wanted to break their family's cycle of unhealthy
relationships with food while their children were still young.
"It got to the point
where we realized it didn't matter what we fed them," Rob said. "If we
weren't eating the same way or if we were overeating, they were going to
follow our example."
The Fosters began
shopping only the periphery of grocery stores, never entering the aisles
unless it was for cereal. They added more fruits, vegetables and lean
white meats and fish. They also began cooking everything they ate from
scratch, including breads, dressings and sauces.
"Our whole philosophy
towards food was adding good things," Rob said. "What we found was, the
more and more good things we added, the less we craved the garbage."
After months of a diet
rich in whole grains, green vegetables and lean meats, they recently
made the decision to go vegan for health, environmental and ethical
reasons.
Rob and Jess now each
weigh 167 pounds, down a collective 280 pounds. Jessica has lost 120
pounds from the start of their journey; Rob has lost 160. They feel
healthier, happier and ready to tackle the world.
Rob, a former bank
branch manager, has gone back to college to pursue a bachelor's degree
in integrative physiology with the goal of entering medical school. This
May, he completed his first year of college.
He's not "the fat guy" anymore, and he's fine with that.
Jess feels pretty great,
too. Now a size 10, down from size 24, she's still getting used to
people paying attention to her. She re-entered the workforce in July
2013 after five years as a stay-at-home mom and was surprised at the
difference in how people treated her.
"A lot of people became
very friendly and were really looking at me in my face, instead of this
blank stare. ... And obviously, the opposite sex was more playful,
always complimentary. I never had that. Never, ever, ever," she said.
"I love myself. I like
what I'm seeing in the mirror. I know there's some work to still be
done, but I'm such a different person than I was before."
By the time he hit 327 pounds, Robert Foster had been playing "the fat guy" for decades. His size was the thing that made him stand out.
Publicly, he embraced his
lifestyle as a "BBQ-lovin', beef-eatin', no-veggie-buyin'" male who
wore T-shirts flaunting his hefty size. There was a particularly
perverse one, he says looking back on it, which read "I beat anorexia."
Privately, he was
resentful that he wasn't thinner. He felt angry when he couldn't bear to
take his four little girls to the park because he was too exhausted
from unloading groceries. He resented being told he was too big for the
seat-belt latch on amusement park rides.
His wife, Jessica, was
also obese, at 287 pounds. Unlike Rob, she felt invisible. Customers at
the bank where she worked stared past her as they made their
transactions. In late 2011, a close family member made a comment at the
dinner table that stuck with her:
"She used to be something to look at. Not anymore."
In late March 2012, the
Colorado couple had an emotional conversation. Jess was coming up on her
30th birthday and was sick of the way she looked and felt. They had had
talks like this before, where they talked about needing to change, but
something was different that night.
"I adore my kids and I
love my husband very much, but there was that point I hated myself so
much. I wasn't giving them the full me because I was disgusted," Jess
said. "You have to look in the mirror and say, 'Am I going to allow this
to continue or am I going to stand up and make those changes?' A light
turned on upstairs."
The next week, she began
taking Zumba classes. In just a few weeks, she had lost 14 pounds --
enough to motivate her to take on new physical challenges. She moved on
to bikes and treadmills and made sure to sweat for an hour at least
three times a week. After that, there was no turning back, she said.
Rob was a little slower
to change -- the thought of going for a run was "unappealing to the
point of agony" -- but he started playing tennis and stopped taking
seconds at dinner.
In the summer of 2012,
they added other physical activities that didn't feel like working out,
like hiking and recreational swimming with their kids and friends. They
got hooked on the physical highs and wanted to do more.
Rob joined Jess in
training for a 5-kilometer race that December. He walked as much as he
ran, and Jess finished way ahead of him. But something in him changed.
"The race environment
and the high fives and the feeling of accomplishment became addicting to
me," he said. "After that day, I swore I would work to run a 5k without
slowing to a walk."
In Rob's words, "it got crazy from there."
The more he ran, the
more he felt he needed to run. When he put on his sneakers and took off,
"I felt like my whole life was skyrocketing upward," he said.
A few months after that
first 5k, he ran his second, this time without walking. Then he did his
first 10-mile run. And in May 2014, he ran his first marathon. By then
he was 160 pounds lighter.
Throughout the process,
the couple used a calorie-counting app to keep track of everything they
ate. They knew they wanted to break their family's cycle of unhealthy
relationships with food while their children were still young.
"It got to the point
where we realized it didn't matter what we fed them," Rob said. "If we
weren't eating the same way or if we were overeating, they were going to
follow our example."
The Fosters began
shopping only the periphery of grocery stores, never entering the aisles
unless it was for cereal. They added more fruits, vegetables and lean
white meats and fish. They also began cooking everything they ate from
scratch, including breads, dressings and sauces.
"Our whole philosophy
towards food was adding good things," Rob said. "What we found was, the
more and more good things we added, the less we craved the garbage."
After months of a diet
rich in whole grains, green vegetables and lean meats, they recently
made the decision to go vegan for health, environmental and ethical
reasons.
Rob and Jess now each
weigh 167 pounds, down a collective 280 pounds. Jessica has lost 120
pounds from the start of their journey; Rob has lost 160. They feel
healthier, happier and ready to tackle the world.
Rob, a former bank
branch manager, has gone back to college to pursue a bachelor's degree
in integrative physiology with the goal of entering medical school. This
May, he completed his first year of college.
He's not "the fat guy" anymore, and he's fine with that.
Jess feels pretty great,
too. Now a size 10, down from size 24, she's still getting used to
people paying attention to her. She re-entered the workforce in July
2013 after five years as a stay-at-home mom and was surprised at the
difference in how people treated her.
"A lot of people became
very friendly and were really looking at me in my face, instead of this
blank stare. ... And obviously, the opposite sex was more playful,
always complimentary. I never had that. Never, ever, ever," she said.
"I love myself. I like
what I'm seeing in the mirror. I know there's some work to still be
done, but I'm such a different person than I was before."



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