Alex: Hello everyone, and welcome! Today, we're diving deep into a really powerful and thought-provoking story – one of struggle, resilience, and ultimately, transformation. We’re talking about Tommy Tomlinson, a man who confronted his lifelong battle with obesity head-on and bravely allowed us into his world with raw honesty. Michelle: Exactly, Alex. And, let's be honest here – this isn’t just another weight-loss story about dieting and exercise. This story really gets into the nitty-gritty: addiction, trauma, and how something as basic as food can become this huge battle in your life. Alex: Right. Tommy’s memoir takes us through his early years, where food was so much more than just nourishment. It was family, comfort, love, you know? But, over time, that comfort became a source of shame and isolation. Michelle: And what was his turning point exactly? It wasn’t some miracle weight-loss cure but a moment of true reckoning. Decades of defining himself by his weight forced him to confront not just the food he ate, but also the emotions and memories so deeply linked to it. Alex: So, in today’s episode, we’re going to unpack his story into three key areas. First, we'll explore the emotional weight of his struggle – the deep connection between food, addiction, and shame. Then, we’ll look at how his family and Southern culture shaped his complicated relationship with food. And finally, we'll discuss his journey toward health and self-acceptance, where these small steps became powerful victories. Michelle: So, get ready, because this is a story about how loving food can sometimes mean battling yourself–and about finding hope in the smallest of moments.

Alex: Okay, picking up where we left off, let's dive into the emotional and psychological side of obesity that Tommy so openly shares. At the heart of his story is this reliance on food as a way to cope—a real double-edged sword that brought him both comfort and pain. One of the most striking scenes is from his childhood. Food was this really powerful symbol of love and togetherness. I mean, can you just picture it? His mom frying catfish in that cast-iron skillet, the incredible aroma filling the Southern air. For Tommy, those meals were more than just food, right? They were family, warmth, a sense of security. Michelle: Right, totally. But what really struck me was how that sense of warmth kind of slowly turned into isolation. You've got this guy who grows up thinking food equals connection, and then he finds himself alone, wolfing down fast food in a parking lot. I mean, that shift is just heartbreaking. And relatable, honestly. Who hasn't reached for comfort food, even knowing it's not a long-term fix, but just hoping it'll get you through the next few minutes? Alex: It's such a painful transformation, isn't it? Early on, food was almost sacred to Tommy, filled with love and culture. But as life got more challenging, it became an empty form of escape. Over time, what was once shared became solitary. And that transformation really highlights how emotional eating works. It's just not about hunger. Michelle: No, it's about covering up something deeper. Tommy actually calls food his "needle," comparing it to drug addiction. And that's not an exaggeration. It’s a brutally honest way to say that he was using food to soothe his emotional wounds, not to satisfy his physical needs. And what’s interesting about food addiction, compared to, say, alcohol or drugs, is that you can’t just quit cold turkey. You’ve got to deal with it every single day. That has to make the psychological burden even heavier. Alex: Exactly, it's a never-ending battle. And to top it off, there's all the shame that surrounds obesity. Take the moment when Tommy talks about seeing 460 pounds on the doctor's scale. That number became more than just a statistic. It turned into a judgment on his entire existence. Society tends to look at people with obesity and immediately jump to conclusions. Lazy, lacking willpower, undisciplined. And Tommy internalized that judgment. It wasn't just the external scrutiny that weighed on him. It was how it chipped away at his self-worth from the inside. Michelle: That scene “really” hit home. Because, let's be honest, people often confuse size with character when it comes to obesity. It’s like Tommy’s metaphor about wrestling a hog in his dream. Do you remember, Alex? He’s stuck in this muddy, endless struggle with the hog, which represents all the weight he’s carrying – the shame, the guilt, the frustration. And the harder he fights, the closer the hog gets. That dream is like his psyche on display. It’s not just about fighting the weight, but also about wrestling with an identity that’s become intertwined with it. Alex: That's such a powerful metaphor because it “really” shows how these emotions—shame, guilt—can take over. And that internal conflict, that "wrestling with the hog," leaves scars. Tommy's loneliness “really” comes through in those moments—the late-night fast-food runs, the binging in his car. He calls these acts a "little bridge" to feeling better, but in reality, they only deepened his sense of isolation. Michelle: Isn’t that the cruel irony of it all? These quick comforts - whether it’s a bag of fries or a slice of pie - give you a temporary lift, but leave you feeling even worse afterwards. It makes me think about how he compares food addiction to other forms of escapism, like drinking or drugs. But, as you pointed out earlier, Alex, the stigma surrounding obesity is different. If someone is struggling with alcoholism, there's a general understanding that it’s an illness. But with obesity, people tend to see it as a moral failing. Alex: Absolutely, and that stigma adds an emotional weight that's just as heavy as the physical one. For example, Tommy talks about calculating whether a chair could support his weight before sitting down. Just imagine the humiliation and anxiety that causes – constantly monitoring yourself, afraid to draw attention. It's basically a fear of being judged for simply existing in your own body. Michelle: Right, and it's not just about the external judgment, is it? It’s about how deeply it gets ingrained in your own mind. Tommy admits to feeling like he's two different people - one part of him wanting to change, and another part stuck in this cycle of guilt and inertia. That internal battle “really” shows how complex and human this struggle is. It's not about being "good" or "bad." It's about untangling years of habits, emotions, and expectations. And that’s definitely not easy. Alex: It's not, but there's a glimmer of hope in his story. While it's not a perfect turnaround, Tommy starts to rewrite his own story. Small steps—like recognizing the emotional triggers related to food—become “really” important moments for growth. And that's a lesson we can all take away from this.

Alex: This struggle really sets the stage for understanding the bigger picture of obesity, both personally and in society. What's so fascinating, and honestly, heartbreaking, is how Tommy's story shows that his relationship with food didn't just pop up out of nowhere. It was built, piece by piece, by outside things - family stuff, cultural norms, even the economy. That's where I'd like to take us next: how family and society affect our eating. Michelle: Right. Because while we want to believe that what we eat is all our own choice, so much of it is passed down, learned, or shaped by where we grew up. And for Tommy, growing up in the South, food wasn't just fuel, you know? It was about love, family, and getting through tough times. I mean, his mom's catfish? That scene in the book feels like a love song to Southern cooking. Alex: Absolutely. Tommy paints such a vivid picture - the smell of the catfish frying, the warm cornbread fresh from the oven, the laughter and stories shared around the table. For his family, food wasn't just about surviving, it was a way of showing they cared, of finding joy even when things were hard. His parents worked those really tough, long hours at the seafood plant, but they still made those meal moments happen where the family could connect. Michelle: And in a way, were those meals acts of survival, right? Historically, Southern cooking comes from a place of making the most of what you have - stretching ingredients, using rich, calorie-dense foods to keep people going through long days. But what struck me was how those same meals, born from necessity and love, kind of laid the groundwork for habits that became problematic. Alex: Exactly. Southern food is amazing, but it can be heavy: fried chicken, biscuits with tons of butter, creamy casseroles. Tommy talks about how those dishes blurred the line between comfort and too much. They were symbols of love and togetherness for sure, but they also created this pattern of eating even when you weren't actually hungry, linking food to feeling good. And that connection, made when he was a kid, just stuck with him. Michelle: And then you throw family dynamics into the mix. Food wasn't just about love, it was a social thing, right? It was how they communicated in their house, and for Tommy, it became how he connected with other people. Remember when he made that first sandwich as a kid with a slice of cheese and shared it with the neighborhood kids? That wasn't just about feeding himself or them, it was about belonging, about fitting in. Alex: It's such a sweet memory, and it says so much about how food and emotions are all tied together. Tommy learned early on that food could build bridges, create relationships. But as he got older, that connection got more complicated. At family gatherings, for instance, all that food – the fried turkey, pecan pies – was a celebration, but it was also a mixed bag. Overdoing it was part of the fun, but there were always those little glances or comments about weight. Michelle: Oof, yeah. That tension is so real - celebrating with food, but feeling that unspoken judgment hanging in the air. It’s like the love that food represented was wrapped up in these undercurrents of guilt and self-consciousness. And for Tommy, that was a tough thing to deal with. When you grow up connecting food with love, it's hard to break that connection as an adult, even when you know it's holding you back. Alex: And it wasn't just family stuff. Society and economic realities made it even harder. His parents, like so many working families, had to watch their budget. They couldn't really choose organic kale smoothies over filling casseroles. Meals were about stretching every dollar and making sure everyone was full. That practical mindset created this idea that bigger portions meant more love and abundance, which, over time, shaped how Tommy thought about food. Michelle: Right, and that’s where fast food enters the picture - quite literally. Tommy writes about how fast food became this paradoxical comfort. On the one hand, it was cheap, quick, and easy, but on the other, it opened the door to eating alone, feeling ashamed. I mean, him sitting in his car late at night with a bag of burgers? That's not just food, that's an emotional crutch. Alex: A crutch for problems that society doesn't always see. We can't ignore how big fast food is in our culture - it's everywhere, it's normal, and it's sold as this really satisfying treat. But at the same time, the same culture that pushes fast food also judges the people who eat it. That cycle of indulging and feeling guilty just made Tommy feel even more alone. Michelle: And that shame is such a key part. You’ve got this society telling you to enjoy the convenience of a drive-thru burger, but the minute that convenience takes its toll on your body, you’re cast as lazy, undisciplined. It’s this constant push-and-pull: the world hands you the tools for overconsumption and then punishes you for using them. Alex: Exactly, and for someone like Tommy, who was already dealing with family and emotional connections to food, these societal pressures just added another layer of pain. But you know what’s interesting? As much as these things shaped Tommy's struggles, they also played a part in him changing things. Michelle: How so? Alex: By really looking at these things - his cultural background, his family's choices, even the norms around food - Tommy started to see where his habits came from. And in seeing those patterns, he was able to start breaking them down. Michelle: So, what you're saying is, being aware is the first step—understanding 'why' behind the habits helps pave the way for change. Alex: Exactly. It's not about rejecting his past or shunning those family traditions completely, it's about finding a balance. Seeing food as nourishment rather than as a way to escape, while still appreciating its role in his life. That’s “really” where the change began for Tommy.

Alex: Understanding these influences really pinpoints those moments that pushed Tomlinson to seek change. That's where his journey takes off—from looking inward at his past to really getting involved with his health. Today, we’re diving into the journey toward self-acceptance and health, seeing how he handled these big challenges and started making changes. This is where his resilience shines. Michelle: Okay, I'm just gonna say it—it's the small progress that jumps out at me here. It's not some huge, overnight makeover. No, it's the little steps, the day-to-day grind, that really make the difference. And honestly, that feels way more relatable than all the "instant success" stories we always hear, right? Alex: Exactly. Tommy’s first steps were all about keeping it simple. He came up with what he called a “Three-Step Diet,” and it wasn't about some crazy fad or extreme change. It was just about tracking calories, keeping an eye on his movement, and staying in a calorie deficit. What I find really cool there is how that approach mirrors his journalistic side—objective, data-driven, and totally grounded in reality. Michelle: Yeah, and it's such a small start, isn't it? A $100 Fitbit to track his steps. That's about as low-tech as you can get. But for him, it worked. Every buzz or flash from that device became a tiny bit of encouragement. Alex: It tells you something about the psychology behind changing your behavior. Small wins build momentum, even if they don’t seem like a big deal at the time. For Tommy, just seeing the number of steps go up, getting those little celebratory messages from his Fitbit—that sparked a sense of accomplishment. It changed his mindset of movement, turning it into a win rather than a chore. Michelle: Achievement, sure—but let's also talk about the reality check. Remember his moment about calorie counting? That scene with the Chipotle tortilla chips? 570 calories for something that seemed like a side? That's one of those moments where everything you thought you knew about "normal" eating just falls apart. Alex: Oh, that was a turning point for him. That was when he started uncovering the hidden calories in the food he’d been eating without even thinking about it. And while tracking meals became a way to put some structure in place, it also made his patterns clear—how some foods weren't just treats but were also tied to deeper emotional needs. Michelle: Tracking calories can be tough emotionally, though, right? It’s not just about data. It's about staring your choices right in the face, seeing those numbers in black and white, and holding yourself accountable. Tommy carried not just the calorie count, but also the sadness and guilt that came with each entry. Alex: Absolutely. And that sadness was made worse by his memories of Brenda—his sister, who passed away due to complications from obesity. That's such a powerful connection because it’s not just about losing her; it’s about fighting the same battle she faced. I think her memory became both a motivator and a stark reminder of what was at stake. Michelle: And it’s so moving how she's always there in his journey, especially during the holidays. Those times, like Thanksgiving or Christmas with his Southern family, are full of tradition—and, of course, calorie-packed dishes like those buttery sausage balls and pecan pie. But he sees it differently. Instead of overindulging, he makes smart choices. Alex: Exactly. It’s about being intentional, not just restricting himself. He doesn’t dismiss the cultural and emotional importance of those meals but learns to approach them differently. Take Thanksgiving when he chooses smaller portions and focuses on spending time with people instead of focusing only on the food. That shift shows a deeper change—he’s not just trying to lose weight; he’s changing the way he sees nourishment and connection. Michelle: And that is no small feat, reframing the holidays like that. I mean, let's be real about the emotional minefield that is those big family get-togethers. Food is more than just something on the table; it’s part of the ritual. So, you’ve got love and history on one side—and guilt and temptation on the other. Alex: It’s a really delicate balance, and that shows how Tommy's perspective evolved. He doesn’t let the food carry all the emotional baggage anymore. Traditions like making peanut butter logs in memory of Brenda become ways to honor love and legacy without losing sight of his health goals. Michelle: What really clicks with me about his approach is that it's about resilience, not perfection. He has setbacks, he has doubts, but every step, big or small, is still progress. It’s those little wins—the first calorie deficit, seeing the scale move after years of nothing—that keep him going. Alex: And resilience isn’t just about doing things, but also about having support around you. Alix, his wife, is so important—she encourages him, she stands by him. Her belief in him becomes this steady source of hope in his journey. Michelle: Yeah, that really got me. Because as much as this is Tommy’s story, it's also about how change can be a team effort. Alix supports him not just physically but also emotionally, showing him that being vulnerable doesn't mean you have to go it alone. Alex: Vulnerability is at the heart of it, isn't it? Tommy’s willingness to face not only his habits but also the deeper feelings tied to them—loss, shame, grief—that’s where the real change happens. It’s not just about the numbers on the scale but about finding self-worth beyond the weight. Michelle: That’s a tough lesson to “really” learn. It’s easy to zero in on the result—less weight, better blood pressure—but for Tommy, the journey was just as much about finding peace with himself as it was about health. Alex: That's what makes his story so relatable. The courage to face yourself, to take those small steps, to find strength in small victories—those things matter way beyond just losing weight.

Alex: Alright, so to sum up Tommy Tomlinson's journey, it's much more than just a weight loss story, right? It's about untangling decades of emotions, traditions, and identity that were all tied to food. We saw how food became both his comfort and his battle, shaped by his family, his culture, everything around him. And those small, mindful changes he made—spotting those emotional triggers, rethinking his habits, and finding people to support him—finally led him to accepting himself a little more each day. Michelle: Exactly, and what “really” hits home for me is how relatable his story is. Whether you’re dealing with weight or not, we all have something we’re wrestling with, right? Some coping mechanism that starts off helping us, but then it just becomes another burden. Tommy's story? It's a good reminder that change isn't about being perfect. It's about bouncing back, “really” understanding yourself, and seeing a little bit of hope in the tiniest of efforts. Alex: Totally. And I think the big takeaway here is to “really” think about our own relationship with food, or anything else we use to kind of fill those emotional holes. Ask yourself: What am I really feeding here? And what's one little thing I can do today to take care of myself in a way that's actually healthy and kind? Michelle: Nailed it, Alex. Small steps, huge impact. Thanks everyone for joining us as we dove deep into Tommy Tomlinson’s journey. Until next time, keep pushing forward, and remember—growth happens one step, and you know, maybe sometimes one sandwich, at a time.