The Raven

Hi, there! My name is Cassandra. I'm a 23-year-old on a journey to a fit and healthy lifestyle. My biggest supporter and fan is my husband, who I met in April 2010. We are drawing closer to our 4 year dating anniversary on March 17th of this year! And our 2-year wedding anniversary is coming up on June 14th. It's crazy to think how much time has flown by! It's been the best time of my life and I've loved every second of it. I continuously fall in love with him, more and more each day.

22 years ago, I was born in Southern California. My mom is the middle child of 7 siblings and I was one of the first babies born into the family, so for that reason, I was overly spoiled and showered with attention. My mom had me at a young age, so while her and my dad worked full-time, I was in the care of several family members, mostly my great-grandmother, grandma and one of my aunts. I've always been sensitive, so even though I got used to being away from my parents, there were still days that I hated being dropped off and not knowing when my parents were going to pick me up again. 

Nevertheless, I'm extremely grateful for the moments I got to spend with my great-grandmother. The memory I remember the most vividly is sitting on the couch and watching The Price is Right with the original host Bob Barker and eating Gorditas, which is like a Mexican flat-bread but sweet. It's round like a tortilla and may even be made of corn or flour, I'm not sure. Though many have tried, no one's been able to recreate her authentic Mexican dishes. She died suddenly of a stroke and my family wasn't around when it happened. We were able to make it to the funeral and there's moments where I think she's still alive. I know I'll see her again some day. I miss her, her company and her food. 

My parents' marriage didn't last long. They divorced when I was 5. My mom, little brother and I moved around a lot. We probably changed apartments every 6 months. I believe this is what started my struggle with weight gain. My mom would feed us what she could afford and that didn't necessarily mean it was always healthy. But as a single-mother of two, I know that she did what she could.  She's the strongest person I know and she's always made the best out of every situation. Shortly thereafter, my mom met my stepdad through her job, they moved in together and for a few years, we lived in a 3-bedroom, 2 bath house. My mom was happy and I got to see my dad whenever I wanted. It wasn't perfect by any means, but I was content with the situation.

I grew up playing soccer. The moment that I could run without falling over, my parents signed me up for several playing teams through the city park. Even though I was constantly active, the weight continued to grow apparent in my physical features. I didn't have moderation when it came to food. I ate whatever I wanted and I usually ate bigger portions than what was actually necessary. A kid shouldn't have to worry about their weight, but I wish my mom had intervened and enforced healthy choices into my diet. As the years went on, my weight would spiral out of control.

I was in the middle of 4th grade when my mom and stepdad made the decision to move halfway across the country to Missouri. I remember throwing a fit and crying. I was devastated. At 9 years old, I couldn't comprehend what was happening. All I knew is that I was leaving behind all my friends, my way of life, family and most importantly, the relationship with my father. I remember when my brother and I went over to my dad's place for the last time before we were leaving. He was going through some boxes. He moved around as much as we did, trying to find a place to settle, struggling as well. He started to cry. I cried too. All three of us did. It wasn't my dad's decision for the divorce and neither was us moving. I knew he was heart-broken.

The town we moved to was small - I believe there was about 120 that graduated in my senior class - and everyone was close-knitted. I was used to the city life and the town we moved to in Missouri was far from it. Think country life, lots of land, houses spread out, lack of diversity, etc.  At first, it was hard to fit in and make friends. I got made fun of for just about everything: my weight, height, skin color, the way I talked, etc. I was categorized as an African-American by kids at school because that was the only ethnicity that they had been exposed to. When I told them I was Mexican, that's when I got the absurd jokes of 'being illegal' or 'jumping over the border' to get here. These jokes continued throughout middle school and high school, but I was affected by it the most in 5th & 6th grade. I had never heard these jokes before or was seen as someone 'different' or as an 'outsider.' The language I learned first was Spanish and all my teachers were fluent and even taught both Spanish and English in classrooms. All my classmates from California came from different backgrounds and spoke multiple languages. I never experienced alienation like I did in Missouri. I was the minority and everyone made it obvious. The struggles I faced trying to adjust to a new setting as well as the bullying caused me to turn to food for comfort. 

I made the effort to try to continue playing soccer but quit after two years because the program was so small; it was co-ed and we played against the same team for every game. The lack of any daily physical activity only accelerated my weight gain. By the time I reached 7th grade, I weighed over 140 pounds.

I wasn't tall. By that point, I had reached my maximum growth spurt at 5'2" and I haven't grown since. I was constantly judging my appearance and comparing them to other girls. It seemed like they were all taller and skinnier than I was. I kept thinking that I would grow and all my fat would stretch out, but genetics would prevent that from happening. I knew I had to make changes in my diet. That's why I joined track, but as the season came and went, my weight stayed the same and I was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with me. I thought physical activity was supposed to help me lose weight, why did I still look the same? My failures drove me to continue to eat without moderation and make unhealthy food choices.

The summer before my 8th grade year, I went on my first mission trip through my church. We went to Mexico to help needy families and to spread the gospel about Jesus. It was a life-changing experience and since then, I've gone on several more mission trips. Although there were interpreters at the location, I was an essential helper with communicating with families in Spanish and then regurgitating the information back to church members in English. I definitely felt out of my comfort zone at first, but by the end of the trip, I was in my element. I gained back much of my self-esteem and confidence that I had lost since the huge transition from CA to MO, and at 12-years-old, it was exactly what I needed. I felt worthy and useful of something. I felt comfortable in my own skin. I also developed many close relationships that helped me overcome many obstacles throughout the years to come.

When 8th grade started, insecurities came back. No one was going to depend on me for my Spanish and that certainly wasn't going to help me lose weight.  I looked back at the pictures from the mission trip and I was disgusted with myself and my appearance. I decided to go on a diet. My mom and stepdad came across this diet plan - I don't remember what it's called - but basically, you take a quiz in order to determine which meal plan out of the four choices is best suited for you. It was a pretty simple diet to follow, but very limited to what you could eat. My breakfast consisted of a grapefruit, hard-boiled eggs and oatmeal. For lunch I had deli meat or turkey patties with lettuce. Then dinner would be whatever my mom cooked. I dropped weight like crazy. I went from weighing over 140 pounds to below 120; but because the diet plan was so limited, I got bored with it quick and returned to my unhealthy food choices.  I also didn't know how to maintain my weight, so I gained a lot of it back. 

However, since the start of that diet, I'm proud to say I've never returned to that number on the scale, though I've came close. What I'm not proud of is that since I knew I had once reached below 120 pounds on the scale, I always considered myself to be on a 'diet,' trying to reach that number again by whatever means necessary. Especially in high school. I continued to make comparisons to other girls and I wasn't going to be happy with my appearance until I looked like them. 

I played tennis my freshman and sophomore year. I made quite a few friends through the sport but didn't pursue it because I didn't feel good enough and I played for the wrong reasons. Again, I thought that by being involved actively in a sport, I was going to magically lose weight and all my problems would be solved. What I kept doing is feeding my body junk and I justified that because of tennis. I would eat candy bars for lunch and tell myself it was okay because I had tennis practice after school. On some days, I would completely skip lunch, have practice, then overeat when I got home. What I didn't realize then is that my eating habits didn't line up with my physical activity. I was eating back the calories I was burning off and then some. 

High school was also when the relationship between my father started to become non-existent. Every summer since the move to Missouri, my brother and I would fly back to California and stay with my dad for several weeks. In between summers, we would keep in contact through letters and phone conversations. Then my dad met Erika, technically my stepmom. From the beginning, she told me not to view her like that, and instead, to view her like a friend. I was totally okay with that because she knew that I knew that she would not replace the position as my mom.  Then, it seemed like all at once, the communication with my dad completely stopped. There was one phone conversation in particular that I remember where I had called him and I think he was at the park or at some sort of gathering with close friends. Anyway, it was after Jennifer, my half-sister, was born. I was trying to have a conversation with him and he kept having to interrupt me because he was keeping an eye out for his daughter. It was like I was on the phone simply to hear him say affections to her. At that moment, I didn't feel like his daughter anymore. I felt like I had been replaced. She was going to have all these moments with him that I knew I was never going to have. I remember crying silently on the phone just wanting the conversation to end. 

My dad was never there to see me play tennis. He wasn't there to teach me to drive for the first time. He wasn't there to chase boys away or to see me dressed up for prom or to be there for my high school graduation. The lack of my father's presence hit me hard, sometimes harder on some days in compared to others, and this attributed not only to my habit of turning to food for comfort, but also seeking attention from guys that only meant trouble. 

My senior year, I was back on track with 'my diet.' This time, I began to lose weight again, not as quickly but still for the wrong reasons. It seemed like all my friends were thin and active. Many of them were cheerleaders or volleyball players. Conversations revolved around cute boys and ways to improve physical outward appearances. They would complain about being 'fat' and needing to lose weight. This would always make me feel uncomfortable and did a number at lowering my self-esteem. These girls had no reason to lose weight. I would've done anything to have a body similar to them. If they thought they needed to lose weight, what did they think about my body?

  I began running. I would run 2-3 miles any chance I could. It was my escape. It was my way to cope, to think, to vent. I started to lose weight again and people began to notice - some people thought I was skipping meals. Despite the negativity, I pushed myself to continue to run. My legs began to tone up and it became my favorite physical feature about myself. I expected the same to start to happen with my stomach. Since I've treated my body poorly for so long over the years, I think I have more body fat than the average person. It has always been my midsection that I've had the hardest time targeting and losing weight from. Despite this, I was getting attention from guys and loving it because it was something I had rarely experienced in high school. I graduated in May of 2009 and with college starting immediately in the fall, I had high hopes for my future. 

For several years, I maintained my weight and stayed around the same weight.  I continued to run but my food choices still remained unhealthy. I wasn't consistent with what I ate. I would eat a hearty and nutritional breakfast but the rest of my meals were based on convenience. Between school, work and finding time in between to hang out with friends, much of my food decisions were based on how quickly it could be made and transferred into my mouth. I knew it wasn't the kind of lifestyle I wanted to live, but I liked the girl I saw in the mirror and I was content with my body image for the time-being. I settled on that as what mattered and didn't change anything I did differently.

Though my husband and I met in April of 2010, we didn't start hanging out until January of 2011 for personal reasons - really, for reasons that no longer matter but I don't really care to share them at the moment. It began as a friendship that quickly developed into a fling and before we both knew it, we were falling for each other, hard. We literally spent every moment that we could together. We still do. :) He saw me in a way that no one else had. He made me feel beautiful despite all my flaws and imperfections. I began to stop criticizing my body image and began seeing myself the way he saw me. I have never been anyone but myself when I'm around him, which is a rare thing in this society, if you ask me.

My husband made me see how valuable and precious I am. I've never felt more happy or comfortable with how I look. After he proposed and we began planning for the wedding, I felt the pressure begin to build of needing to look absolutely amazing in my wedding dress in front of all the guests that we had planned on inviting. It began a war all over again with myself. I began to look at myself in the mirror and I would see that my arms were too flabby, my stomach was too round, when I would try on my wedding dress at the bridal shop, I focused on the bulges I saw and it made me feel this small about myself. I began working out like crazy, trying to get rid of the fat I saw. I would put myself on strict diets and if I messed up by eating something unhealthy, I would feel guilty and let my failures get the best of me. By this one tiny mistake, I made myself believe that I wasn't going to get anywhere and I used that as an excuse to continue to make poor eating decisions. Then, later that day or that week I would see myself in the mirror, feel instantly disgusted and unhappy with how I looked, and the cycle would begin all over again. It was miserable. By the time the wedding date was coming closer, I was fed up with worrying about what I was eating so I just ate whatever I wanted. It was not only damaging to me but my husband as well because he was constantly telling me that I looked perfect, that there wasn't a thing I needed to change about myself, but I shut him out and only focused on what I thought.

Looking back, I'm so glad that didn't affect the wedding day. All my worries disappeared the moment I saw my husband standing on the alter waiting for me. Countless of people came up to me during the reception to say, "I can just tell by the way he looks at you that he absolutely loves you. He adores you." I cried like a baby throughout the entire day. It was one of the happiest days of my life and I felt absolutely beautiful. God planned everything just right for us.

Now that I'm 22, married for almost a year to my best friend and constantly thinking about the future, I realize how important it is to be healthy. I've decided to embark on this healthy lifestyle to treat my body right, I want my body to be strong, I want to be able to feel good about the decisions I make and be able to live as long as possible. It's not important for me to lose weight for the wrong reasons anymore. I'm doing this for me, because my body deserves it and because I've come along way and my journey is far from over.