The thought of turning fifty made me cringe. How did I get that old? There was so much I still wanted to accomplish but felt stuck. I was out of shape, constantly struggled with weight, carried fears that paralyzed me, and I had lost my Mom.

One night, after celebrating my 49th birthday, I realized I had a choice - continue the pattern of stagnation that I had succumbed to, or pull up my big girl panties and get my shit together. I decided to do the latter.

This was the night that Fat Mom on a Mountain was born. I made a promise to myself that I would spend the 50 weeks leading up to my 50th birthday working on myself: I would get fit, I would face my fears, I would embrace self-love and creativity, I would document my journey, and I would do something that I knew my Mom would be proud of - climb one of the most dangerous mountains in America and write a book about it!