I kept my fat jeans for years.
YEARS.
They sat in a green zip up bin atop a wardrobe in our bedroom.
For those of you who are new here or perhaps haven’t committed every detail of my life to memory, I used to be overweight. Don’t worry. We still have several months before I am, once again, contractually obligated to show my before-and-after photos where I transform from late-20s drunk and sunburned schlub to my soon-to-be-a-Dad professional black-and-white photos designed to make me look like a Greek God.
A bald Greek God. But a Greek God nonetheless.
In any case, I always liked to think that I kept the jeans as a reminder. A tactile souvenir of where I’d come from.
More likely, I was probably afraid of a backslide. I’ve heard stories of everyone from Biggest Loser contestants to someone’s Aunt Sadie who had bariatric surgery and still managed to end up heavier than where they started.
And jeans ain’t cheap.
But I think the more likely reality is that I was afraid to let go. To move on. To actually accept that I was now someone different - even if it only was in the physical sense.
Because when you’ve been a certain way for a long time — when that version of you becomes part of your identity — it’s weirdly hard to say goodbye. Even when you want to change. Even when you have changed. Even when that change is for the better.
The jeans weren’t just denim and rivets. They were a version of me I hadn’t fully let go of.
Maybe I kept them as a warning. Maybe I kept them as proof. Maybe I kept them in case I failed.
And I think a lot of people carry their own version of that — especially in fitness.
They say things like: “I used to be athletic.” “I’ve always struggled with my weight.” “I always get hurt.” “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
And those phrases? Those aren’t just reflections. They’re handcuffs.
Because if you walk into the gym every day carrying the identity of someone who doesn’t belong there, doesn’t know what they’re doing, or isn’t “one of those people” (or maybe just doesn’t feel like “one of those people” anymore) — how long do you really think you’ll last?
Fitness isn’t just about what your body can do. It’s about who you believe you are.
And when those two things finally line up? That’s when everything changes.
I know. I know. This is starting to sound cornier that Justin Bieber doing a duet with Tony Bennet. But that doesn’t make it any less true.
Because with that belief you stop dragging around old versions of yourself. You stop needing the validation of a scale or a mirror or a perfect week. You stop asking, “Am I doing this right?” and start saying, “This is just who I am now.”
And that is some very powerful shit. Much more powerful than a particular body fat percentage or some worn out transformation photos you keep folded up in your wallet to show the young whippersnappers in the gym.
I did eventually get rid of the jeans.
Not because I stopped being afraid. But because I finally realized that holding on to them wasn’t helping me move forward.
And maybe that’s the action step I’ll offer you this week. To take inventory.
To look at the things you’re still holding onto — the old beliefs, the worn-out stories, the just-in-case mentalities — and ask if they still fit.
Because the version of you that got here? They were important.
But the version that gets you where you’re going?
They probably don’t wear the same clothes.