What it’s like to lose 250 pounds

As told to Megan Messerly

Monday, Oct. 19, 2015 | 2 a.m.

I had hunger pangs every day. There are genuine food addictions, and I certainly had one. I know it; I recognize it even in myself now. Even when I’m not hungry, I still deal with the addiction in my head, the desire for food.

At my largest, there wasn’t a scale I could get on that could weigh me. The highest I weighed myself was 437, but I think I was probably up above 460.

When you’re that heavy, you deal with depression. The depression feeds the desire to eat, so you begin not to care. You’re treated differently when you’re that big, too. A lot of people look down on you. They think it’s just a matter of changing your diet, but it’s not. I had tried tons of diets, but I wasn’t treating the eating disorder I have.

I knew I needed weight-loss surgery, but my wife was really the one who said, “Do this, and do this now.” If I didn’t make that step, I probably would be dead now. My desire to live outweighed everything.

My insurance didn’t cover the surgery. I researched the costs everywhere from India to Mexico to the United States. I talked with people who had it done. Surgery in the United States costs about $13,000. In Mexico, $3,000. I was going to have to pay cash, too. I looked at financing but there just weren’t options available.

My wife went with me to Tijuana, which probably scares people more than anywhere. The thing I had to do was separate where I was with what was being done. We went to an awful place to get X-rays done — nothing like you would see in the United States. But it was just an X-ray.

The surgery was in a clinic in a shopping center. It was really hard for me not to walk out. But it’s a 30-minute outpatient surgery. If you had outpatient surgery here, you might have it done in a doctor’s office. It also was the cleanest place I think I’d ever been. It was cleaner than a lot of hospitals here, so that kept me going.

And this place had done thousands of these surgeries. We were in a group of about six having the surgery that day.

Everyone was really good with me during the recovery process, which was about a week. The people in the group with me having the same surgery done were able to sit and share our experiences and help each other through the tough times.

For the first four weeks, you’re only on liquids and consuming probably no more than a couple hundred calories a day, and your energy is unbelievably wiped out. But with time, I started to get energy. I could walk to work from the hotel to the office. I started to feel better and lose some amazing numbers — 30 to 35 pounds a month, a pound a day or more.

I’m at about 220 now, but I’ve gone as low as 185. I still feel hunger pangs, though. I have to do a gut check and say, “It’s your head talking, not your stomach.” I also keep a daily log of everything I eat and drink.

My wife eats healthy, and she’s the one who makes suggestions about where we eat. I met with some friends this weekend, and I was on a no-carb diet, and they made accommodations. They all recognize the lifestyle change I’ve made, and they really want to help. People are really supportive.

My son had a similar weight problem, so I took him to the same doctors and I paid for his surgery because he needed it. I’m happy I’ve been able to maybe help him save his life as I’ve saved my own. I’ve also helped counsel other people and encouraged them to take control of their lives.

I made a goal for myself, right after the surgery and said, by the end of the year, I want to do my first triathlon. I needed to start exercising.

It was a sprint triathlon in Long Beach. The swim was brutal; the bike took me awhile to finish; the run was 5K, and I probably walked three quarters of it. But I finished. Now, I exercise almost every day.

I’m still dealing with things, though. When you’re that big, you get claustrophobic, and for a long time, I felt like I was in people’s way. I’m much better about that now. I don’t feel like I’m taking up too much space. Getting on an airplane, not needing the seat belt extender, not having people not want to sit next to you — there are little victories all the time.