About 4 months before going to the doctor I was living what you could call an average and “normal” life. I did pretty good at trying to fit in with my group of friends and with society given that I prefer to keep to myself and do my own thing.

I guess that’s pretty normal, isn’t it? Who doesn’t want to be liked by others?

I remember being at the gym bench pressing and sitting on the red sweaty bench in between sets daydreaming about the upcoming trip. My friend Chris’s bachelor party was going to be a weekend trip to New York City with the boys followed by a 3 week adventure, just him and I, through Eastern Europe.

At the time I was in decent shape. Mostly average shape. Not fat, not fit, but maybe felt a little better than average given how much time I spent at the gym.

Yes, I cared about my looks because I wanted to feel good when I was around others. I didn’t care about health as long as I felt good in my body. Back then, I did. I felt good enough to give me confidence as I’d heard women were quite beautiful in the Czech Republic and since Chris was about to get married, he’d make the perfect wingman. 

No surprise that my main motivation to look good back then was so that girls would find me attractive, and nothing to do with health.

At the time, I wasn’t so sure girls would notice me, which is why I was obsessed with going to the gym. Yes, I had confidence issues, because the moment I start to put on weight, my face gets puffy, fat blows up my cheeks and I drop from being an average 7 guy to a 5 or lower real fast. That’s why looks were important to me. At least that was the case up until that trip.

We started our trip in western Germany in the city of Cologne (Köln). The first night we found ourselves at a random bar doing back to back shots of Jägermeister. I kept up with my friend Chris until I blacked out.

The next morning I was having a hard time holding anything down, including water. It was not the best start to a 3 week trip, but I somehow pulled myself together that day and made it to the airport to hop on a plane to Prague, Czech Republic.

This was the place I was looking forward to the most, but my excitement was drowned by my hangover. Not just any hangover. I’m pretty sure this is when I officially damaged my liver and I wasn’t feeling my best. I felt anything but attractive. It was kind of depressing to think about it, but I didn’t want to ruin Chris’s bachelor trip so I put on a smile and marched on.

Our next stop was Budapest, Hungary. People in Prague told us women in Hungary were even more beautiful, which I almost didn’t believe. They also recommended we visited the bathhouses, except neither one of us had brought swim trunks.

We spent half a day walking around town looking for swim trunks and found that European sizes are smaller than US sizes. I couldn’t find any extra large swim trunks so I went with a size large. I was still recovering from my hangover from day one, and this is when I noticed that my belly was slightly bigger than usual. I felt like a whale walking around the Szechenyi baths in my European swim trunks that were just a little too tight on a day when I was a little too big.

Forget my looks. At this point I was no longer thinking about girls or my attractiveness. I could feel something was wrong with my body, but it had yet to fully manifest. I couldn’t wait to get back home to go on a diet and back to the gym. No such thing as going on a diet when you are on vacation. My concern for my health grew as the trip went on. I made the best of it and I’m grateful it happened because this is where my transformation began.

My first day back home, I was exhausted. I expected jet lag after making the eighteen hour trek from Istanbul, Turkey back to Phoenix, AZ. I found myself struggling to get good sleep. I’d go to bed tired, but wired. My mind would race and I would toss and turn all night.

The brain fog was horrible. I had a hard time focusing. I’d go into a room and stand there staring blankly because I’d forgotten why I was even there.

I figured it would take a few days to recover from the trip, but I started to sense that something was different. The fatigue was here to stay. I couldn’t exactly describe it. I didn’t think much of it hoping I’d get back to normal somehow.

I drank and ate pretty much the same thing Chris did during the entire trip. He was feeling normal, but I wasn’t. I started to understand that we’re all different and unique. Our bodies respond differently to food and drink. 

After the trip, I would get gassy every time I’d eat. My belly felt like someone was pumping air inside me as the day went on. My jeans would fit tighter towards the end of the day.

The next day I woke up and hopped in the shower as usual. As I was lathering up my hair I began to feel this texture on my hands. I opened my eyes and noticed hair all over my hands, all over the bathtub, all over the shower curtain. It was not normal hair loss!

I got out of the shower to look in the mirror and noticed my scalp was looking noticeably thinner and a bald patch was beginning to form on my forehead.

I went to get dressed and found that my jeans fit a little too tight. My belly started to hang over my belt. I felt fat and disgusted with myself. Forget girls liking me, I didn’t exactly like myself this way. I was not about to let myself go. I became determined to stay in shape. Not so much for looks at this point, but because I felt like crap since I’d put on the extra weight.

I wanted to get my energy back and sleep better like I did when I was leaner. Gaining weight was the main thing that had changed. I figured then that if I lost the weight, everything else would take care of itself. So I picked up a whole new wardrobe to fit my bigger size, but kept all my old clothes because no way I was going to allow myself to stay this way. I was going to get my butt back in the gym and back in shape. I felt determined to do so.

A few weeks later, things were not looking too good. I was trying all kinds of things. I quit drinking beer. I was eating what I thought was healthy at the time, lean meats and veggies. Bought some weight loss shakes. Spent extra time at the gym. No matter what I did, I kept gaining weight.

Before I knew it, my new bigger jeans started to fit a little too tight. I was the heaviest I’d ever been, when I was trying the hardest I’d ever had to. I gained about forty pounds in just over a month. It was pretty wild.

This was definitely not normal. I’d never struggled to lose weight like this before. I’d never felt tired all the time like this before.

Then it happened. My body broke out in hives. Over two thirds of my body was itchy like I’d been bitten by a hundred mosquitoes. 

This made me realize I needed help. This wasn’t going to go away on its own. It’s what got me to start going to see doctors and find out that my metabolism was broken. 

My body was so toxic, I had elevated liver enzymes. 

I had damaged my liver. 

So much for being “the beer guy.” I couldn’t seem to handle my booze. My broken metabolism was inhibiting probiotic growth in my gut which was inhibiting hormone production (which is the same as energy production).

Weight loss was no longer about me getting six pack abs so girls would notice me. 

My anxiety was through the roof. 

My body stuttered through panic attacks and heart palpitations to tell me I needed to fix my body or it would shut down. 

No energy production, no life. 

Fat loss was now about me staying alive and not suffering if I did manage to stay alive. 

I either produced energy or it would be lights out for me...

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