There is a strange kind of pain that comes with being an obese woman.

On the outside, my body was loud. Too loud. 275 pounds loud. It screamed before I ever had a chance to speak. Every room I walked into, my size arrived first. Every chair I sat in whispered “will it hold?” Every meal I ate was on display, whether I wanted it to be or not. My body told a story I didn’t want to tell.

And yet, for all of that noise—inside, I felt completely invisible.

Invisible at family gatherings where I forced myself to laugh a little quieter, move a little slower, take up less space even though I already took up so much.
Invisible in clothing stores that carried nothing in my size, as if women like me didn’t even exist.
Invisible when I longed for connection, but felt only the sting of judgmental stares.

It’s a cruel paradox: your body is the first thing people notice, and yet your true self remains unseen.

My Raw Truth

Here’s the part that’s hard to admit. I didn’t just feel invisible—I despised the woman I was.

I hated her for sneaking food in secret.
I hated her for crying in dressing rooms.
I hated her for avoiding cameras, terrified of seeing the truth captured in a photo.
I hated her for the way shame had stolen her voice, her confidence, her dreams.

And then came the lowest moments…
The humiliation of being confronted at Pizza Hut, a stranger sneering, “Do you really need all that food?”
The fear of sitting in flimsy white chairs at weddings, praying I wouldn’t break one and confirm every stereotype in the room.
The ache of eating in hiding so no one could see just how much it took to numb the pain.

I know self-hatred isn’t the right path to healing. But for years, it was my truth.

And here’s another truth—one I will not soften: I made choices. I put the food in my mouth. I chose to eat past fullness. I chose to escape my pain with food. Yes, I had trauma. Yes, life felt unbearably heavy. But the fork was in my hand. And that means I wasn’t powerless—I was participating in my own prison.

The Shift

There came a day when I couldn’t live like that anymore. Something inside me broke. I realized if I kept going, food would not just take my joy—it would take my life. And that terrified me.

So I chose differently. Not perfectly, but differently. I fought back. I learned a new way of eating, a new way of living, a new way of seeing myself.

And the weight began to fall.

Suddenly, the world treated me differently. People made eye contact. They listened. I was taken seriously in ways I never had been before. Doors opened. Opportunities came. It was as if losing weight had given me permission to be fully human in other people’s eyes.

But here’s the secret: the new woman wasn’t born the day I lost weight. She had always been there. She was just buried—under shame, under excuses, under years of pain and hiding.

The Freedom

Today, I don’t hate that woman anymore. I can finally look back at her with compassion. She was hurting. She was lost. She was desperate for comfort and didn’t know where to find it.

But she was also the fighter. She was the one who made the decision to change. She was the one who started this journey. Without her, I wouldn’t be here.

I’m thankful for my journey. But I’m also thankful that I am free of the hatred. Free of the shame. Free of the lie that my worth was tied to a number on the scale.

Because here’s the truth that matters most:

You can hate obesity and still love yourself enough to change. You can admit your choices without drowning in shame. You can escape the prison you’ve built—one choice at a time.

Freedom is possible. Worth is already inside you. And your story is not over. Reach out to me. I have walked with thousands of women who felt invisible. Who felt left behind. We have found their freedom from these chains. Sometimes you just can’t do it alone and you need someone to carry the pain for just a minute. You need a tribe. You need a wingman. That is what we do. Email us. Tell us your story. Monica@ketomomcoaching.com and Darcy@ketomomcoaching.com. We are ready to walk with you.