“Food, Glorious Food!”

“Food, glorious food! Hot sausage and mustard!” The Broadway show Oliver! obviously wrote their opening number with me in mind. I’ve always LOVED food. Here’s proof.

My poor little jaw needed a hinge.

My poor little jaw needed a hinge.

Yes, even at that tender young age, no burger was safe from my clutches. Growing up with the winning combo of being athletic and having a high metabolism allowed me the pleasure of eating whatever I wanted (Taco Bell as an everyday afterschool snack? You betcha.) and whenever I wanted (Double Stuf Oreos dunked in milk at midnight? Yes, indeed.) with no consequences to my waif-like waistline.

Super skinny me in high school flirting with Presidents

Super skinny me in high school flirting with Mr. President

It wasn’t until my burgeoning birthing hips appeared that I was blindsided with the fact that I could no longer inhale a drive-thru Dairy Queen dipped cone and then immediately pull through Wendy’s for value fries dredged through a Frosty without DIRE consequences. Oh, the humanity!

Fast forward past trying and failing at a bazillion diets including, but not limited to, SlimFast (which certain unnamed male members of my household affectionately referred to as SlimSLOW), HCG drops (aka, I’m-only-eating-500-calories-a-day-and-you-may-or-may-not-be-murdered-in-your-sleep diet), and a super weird 3-day hot dog diet that made me question the meaning of life. I was four weeks postpartum with my second child and one click away from an Amazon order of my very own weight loss-inducing tapeworm when I saw a friend’s social media post about a weight loss competition that involved NO WEIGHT LOSS products. None. The competition aspect intrigued me, as did the accountability and list of daily common sense helps like eating veggies and fruit, drinking water, exercising, and laying off sweets. It seemed doable. And it was. I was finished with lose-weight-quick gimmicks and finally free from dieting! I lost 40 pounds learning to eat whole, clean, REAL foods.

At my heaviest (left) and sporting a rad FIT tee (right)

At my heaviest (left) and sporting a rad FIT tee (right)

Gone are the days of popping open a can of disgusting meal replacements. Discovering that NOTHING replaces the real food that God made our bodies to eat was a long time coming and a lesson that I just have to share with other women who find themselves in the same battle. FIT (Female Inspiration Team) is a ladies-only weight loss group that helps teach women that you don’t have to ever diet again. The unique thing about our challenge is that competitors are not permitted to use any weight loss products to win. Each challenge goes on for eight weeks, but my prayer is that lifestyle habits are subconsciously instilled at that time. You would be amazed at how much I’ve come under fire for just wanting to promote REAL FOOD. I can’t promise that you will lose all the weight you need to in 8 weeks, but I absolutely promise that our group will help equip you with the knowledge you need to continue with a LIFESTYLE that will eventually help you reach your goals.

Let me be transparent. I didn’t create this accountability group because I’m an authority on fitness and weight loss. I created it because I finally conceded to the fact that I needed help and couldn’t do it on my own. Sigh. Sometimes I feel like I’m still one whiff of a Sour Patch Kid away from diving into a vat of them. The green ones. Just one huge tub of the green ones. But I’m learning more every day and loving every high and low of the journey.

I’m stoked about our FIT blog because it won’t be limited to my own health-related ramblings. You’ll often hear from guest bloggers on a myriad of informative helpful subjects that will inspire you to get FIT. I can’t wait. Thanks for following. – Monica Brown

I would love to hear from fellow recovering Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food addicts. Contact me at 8weekfit@gmail.com.

July 2015 - Me and the newest little contributor to my ever-growing birthing hips

July 2015 – Me and the newest little contributor to my ever-growing birthing hips