Learning to love all of myself, man boobs and all

Ty Rushing has dealt with weight issues his entire life but slowly grew more comfortable with how his body looked.

One of my goals this year is to lose weight, and this post is a way of publicly keeping myself accountable.

My weight-loss goal isn’t about my appearance but more about my long-term health; I’m more comfortable with myself than ever, but this was not always the case.

I’ve battled weight issues pretty much my entire life. When I was a small kid, I was an extremely picky eater. The only things I ate were boiled eggs, Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup (I could tell when it was store brand), cereal, grilled cheese, McDonald’s chicken nuggets and Taco Bell tacos.

If you’ve seen any episode of #TyTries, you’re probably stunned by this revelation, considering that you’ve seen me consume everything from ranch dressing flavored ice cream to a fried chicken sandwich served between donut buns, but it’s true.

Because of my limited diet, I was pretty skinny for a time, which bothered me. I remember some of my cousins calling me “Boney Baloney.” As silly as that name is, I still remember it 30-something years later. I also remember being shamed by various older relatives for not making a “happy plate” at the dinner table, which means eating every single thing presented to me and clearing the plate.

Back in my “Boney Baloney days.”

Around the age of 10, my diet had expanded tremendously, and I started to gain weight as a result. The back of my football card for my 5th-grade team listed me at 5 feet even and 100 pounds. I was ashamed of that number, but my little cousin Jalil was super proud. He told everyone that his cousin weighed 100 pounds. I would get so mad at him for telling everyone until his mother and my mom explained that he wasn’t trying to shame me; he thought it was an accomplishment.

I grew up on both sides of the Kansas City state line — Kansas and Missouri — and I lived in Kansas full-time when I started to gain weight. I remember going to visit my grandparents in KCMO, and I was super excited to see my friends in their neighborhood for the first time since gaining a bit of weight.

When I saw all my friends as I hit the Carr family’s backyard, I felt like a returning champion — my whole Vineyard crew was there. Someone yelled, “Ralph got buff,” referring to me by my familial/childhood nickname. However, some of the older kids from the neighborhood realized it wasn’t extra muscle I was carrying, and they reacted like typical teenagers.

At first, I laughed along with the jokes because some were admittedly funny, but it began to sting after a while. One joke I remember vividly was that if you cut me open, I would bleed hot sauce. I can admit it’s pretty clever now, but it hurts when you’re 10 with a changing body. I held my tears in until later, but my eyes definitely welled up a bit in that backyard.

Throughout middle school and high school, I thought I could hide my fat by wearing longer shirts and leaving them untucked. This was in violation of my school’s uniform policy, but as a fat kid trying to hide his fatness, it was the rare rule I was willing to break. I was also one of those kids who wore a T-shirt in the pool whenever I went swimming because I was ashamed of my rolls, big stomach and man boobs.

Ty in the eighth grade.

About a year out of high school, I weighed 300 pounds. In May 2006, I got a job in an office supply warehouse. It turns out a summer of walking 10 miles five days a week in a hot warehouse while wearing steel-toed boots is a great exercise program. I lost 30 pounds.

When I returned to college in fall 2006, I was about 270 pounds, but it looked great on me — it also helps to be over 6 feet tall. Even though I was still a fat boy, girls were checking me out; I dressed nicely, kept my hair freshly braided and had a bit of pocket change. Furthermore, no matter my weight, I’ve always thought I was pretty good-looking.

All of those factors led to an increased confidence in myself. Sure, I still had rolls, a stomach and man boobs, but if girls were able to look past that, so could I. As I grew more comfortable with my body, I stopped wearing T-shirts in the pool and embraced “Fat Boy Swag.”

Now, just because I was comfortable with my weight and shape didn’t mean I was opposed to losing weight for health reasons. When my mom got diagnosed with colon cancer in 2010, she made me vow to lose weight to avoid future health issues.

I had maintained my weight at about 270 for several years at that point, but after my mom died in January 2011, I really worked to slim down. Fortunately, my two best friends — Donnell Poke and Orilton Shumate — also wanted to lose weight around this time.

Collectively, we lost close to 200 pounds by 2012. I didn’t take to lifting weights like they did since the warehouse gave me all the exercise I needed, but I cut out juice and pop and started to drink a gallon of water a day. I also ate better and healthier, teaching myself how to cook and prepare vegetables so I didn’t gag while eating them. It turns out I didn’t hate vegetables; I just didn’t like the canned vegetables I grew up with.

As an adult, my lowest weight was 222 pounds. What’s weird is I didn’t see it. I knew I was smaller, but I still saw myself as a heavier version of me in photos in the mirror. My uncle even told me I may have gotten too skinny at my college graduation party.

I started to gain weight after I moved to Iowa to begin my career in journalism. The combination of having a less physically challenging job, eating poorly due to my new weird work schedule, and a lack of exercise all contributed to this.

Still, I stayed in the 260-270-pound range, which is my sweet spot. I occasionally dropped below this range, participating in the Live Healthy Iowa Challenges with my colleagues in Sheldon, but I never did anything to maintain it once the contest ended.

I started to gain weight again in 2020, and in the intervening years, I crossed 300 pounds for the first time since 2006. I currently sit at a robust 340 pounds, the heaviest I have ever been. And just to clarify, I’m happy with myself and how I look, and so is my wife, but I also know this isn’t a healthy weight in the long term.

Photo by Chris Braunschweig/Newton News

So, I’ve taken action to lose some pounds. I acquired a Fitbit to help me track my steps, and I’ve been using my $40-a-month gym membership. I will also be more conscious about what I eat — except for future installments of Ty Tries.

I don’t have a target weight in mind, but I know anything in the 300s is simply not healthy or sustainable. I promised my late mother I would get healthy so I could live a long time. I did it once and can do it again, but this time, I don’t plan to let that vow break.

I also feel good that I’m losing weight strictly for health purposes. Over the years, I had issues with how people perceived me when I was thin and when I was fat, but with age, I learned none of that matters as long as I’m happy myself, which I am, and that wasn’t always the case.

P.S. To all my fellow fat boys: I haven’t worn a T-shirt in the pool for about 18 years. Trust me; no one else cares. Once you get over that hump, you’ll never go back to wearing a shirt in the pool.