My most memorable accomplishment did not come in the shape of a trophy or a certificate. In fact, one should not call it an accomplishment, for it can never truly be completed.
Growing up, I struggled extensively with obesity. Throughout high school, it seemed my weight was a consistent roadblock to my ambitions. Whether it was asking a girl out on a date, trying to get more playing time on the basketball team, or running for student government, my figure always stood between me and success. Each rejection helped reinforce a domino effect, resulting in my sitting at home binging on comfort food. The verbal abuses stung, and I concluded that the world hated me. As a result I became increasingly depressed, and hid my insecurities by putting on an air of arrogance in front of my classmates.
I might have continued in this fashion, had it not been for my grandfather. He was diagnosed with diabetes, and the doctors warned him that his blood-sugar levels had become life-threatening. He and my father had also struggled with their weight, and both had let it affect their careers and personal lives. Looking at his physical condition was like looking at a window to my future, and I realized I needed to make changes or risk going down the same path. A strenuous diet and exercise regimen was certainly intimidating, but the consequences of failing would be far worse. I began slowly by jogging regularly and cutting out the junk food that had sustained me for so long. It was definitely an uphill battle, forcing myself to run when I was exhausted, or declining my mother's dessert even when it made my mouth water. I had always assumed that my greatest challenges would come from the academic world, but restraining myself pushed me to my physical and emotional limits.
As I began losing weight, I started noticing other changes. The emotional roller coaster I had been on came to a stop, and I was able to control myself in stressful situations. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I acknowledged the true culprit: my own laziness. I had spent too much time feeling sorry for myself, assuming that things would get better magically. I had not been willing to go out and make the changes for myself, and I suffered for it. I started to feel better about the world around me and developed a stronger work ethic. It became clear that what I had lacked before was not a fit body, but rather the belief in myself. From a whopping 225 pounds I entered college at much-healthier 175 and, more importantly, with a drastically different outlook on life.
I choose not to call my lifestyle change an accomplishment, for doing so would imply that it is no longer a part of my present being. I am aware of how easily I could slip back into my old habits, but the discipline and dedication skills I have learned from the journey reflect my potential as an individual. The lessons gained from this undertaking can be applied to any aspect of my life, be it sports or school. The self-confidence lacking earlier now projects itself with conviction. I apply to the schools I have always dreamed of attending with the same hope of being accepted, but now without the same fear of rejection. The commitment I made to myself taught me that I have the skills to succeed no matter where life takes me, and made me believe in myself both as a student and as a human being.
Nice. The writing and the story both.
One thing: 225 pounds is not 'whopping.' Someone on the committee may weigh this. You don't want to offend, even innocently, anyone who has control of your future.
