I don’t remember meeting the woman who I now refer to as my wife. For most guys, that might not be something they would want to openly admit, but my situation is a little different. I was just a few years into my career as a nationally touring public speaker and was giving a seminar in Gainesville, Florida, where she was living. At that time, I presented to thousands of people each year and talked to throngs of them every day. Looking back at my past tour schedule I figured out that I had left Tallahassee the day before we met, presented in Gainesville, and traveled on to Tampa shortly after my seminar. My life moved fast then, and this tour was a whirlwind. The month started in Texas, circled all around the state of Florida, included a cruise to the Caribbean, and ended back in my home in Los Angeles.

When the dust settled and I had a chance to sit back and take it easy, I went through my social media and reviewed the friend requests I received along the tour. Among them was one from an incredibly beautiful occupational therapist who lived in Gainesville. Her name was Sarah and I could never have guessed the impact she would ultimately have on my life.

At the time, Sarah’s profile photo was a side-by-side comparison of herself after losing a substantial amount of weight. I thought she looked incredible in both shots. She had long red hair, which I have always been drawn to, bright eyes, a beautiful smile, and a perfect hourglass figure. I left a comment, “beautiful before, beautiful after,” to which she replied “Thank you, Brian! I feel so much better though now! Much happier too!” As I write this, that was eight years ago to the month and it hardly reads like flirting, let alone the basis of a long-term relationship.

The thing I didn’t know about Sarah was that at the time of my seminar, she was thinking she could help me. I think she remembers it best, so I’ll let her share her version of that day:

“Not remembering how we met, Brian often makes up different jokes (depending on the company) about the day we met. There are probably about seven different versions of our story milling around. One such joke is about a cute woman in the back of the conference center getting up repeatedly, walking around, stretching, and trying to draw attention to herself. Apparently I wasn’t quite doing it right, as he didn’t remember me later, but ironically enough that’s exactly what I was doing that day. Sitting still has never been my style, and after working in busy hospitals and clinics for years, sitting still in a classroom-like setting for over six hours for a boring seminar is not my forte (nor in my philosophy of what is best for my health).

“Between stretching I would, of course, return to my seat, and luckily, the seminar was far from boring. As a matter of fact, it was the best seminar I have attended to date. I listened intently, laughed, reflected about my own life, and took notes. Notes not only about the course material, but also about general observations about seminar attendees and about Dr. Brian King himself, including “poison berries, photography, and Luna.” I’ll get back to why that’s important later, but one point of contention that stuck out in my mind and in my notes was this nonchalant statement he made, “Losing weight is easy! Eat less, move more.” I kind of audibly and sarcastically chuffed, “huh,” and thought to myself. It’s not that easy. I wrote down, and underlined “not!” Having just been through my own weight loss journey (and more than once I might add), and having worked as an occupational therapist and a health coach in lifestyle redesign and weight loss, I knew that it wasn’t that easy. Change isn’t that easy, health is multifaceted, and human bodies are complicated and amazing. And then I thought to myself, I’m going to help this guy. He seems like a tough nut to crack, but tenaciously I’m going to do it somehow. Toward the end of the seminar, I walked up in a polka-dotted dress, smiled, gave him my business card (which also included the before and after pic), asked a question about the course material, thanked him for the presentation, and the rest they say is history. Well . . . sort of. There would be a lot of interaction points and “passing ships” in the night moments. What is it they say? It takes something like five interactions before a person remembers you.”

Looking back, I wonder how many members of my audience had similar thoughts about helping me. That year, as I traveled the country, I was carrying around about 140 extra pounds of baggage all strapped to the outside of my skeleton. It was like I was smuggling an extra person under my clothes to accompany me through life. And for what? So he could make my airplane seats seem smaller and prevent me from getting laid? When I was in college I once got arrested in New York City when a buddy and I attempted to squeeze through a subway turnstile two at a time, but at least then we were trying to save a subway token by pretending to be a single person. I had nothing to gain by lugging this stowaway on my body everywhere I went, and yet there we were flaunting our combined girth in front of audiences day after day stuffed into an ever tightening suit. I didn’t look terrible, but my appearance was made ironic by the fact that my seminars then were all about how to change behavior and live a healthier life. I was a walking example of poor lifestyle choices and I was telling people like Sarah how they could be healthier.

I may have inspired similar thoughts in others, but only Sarah was able to follow through and actually help improve my life. She had her work cut out for her too. She had to first convince me to pursue her halfway across the country, fall crazily in love with her, and have a child together. I don’t work in healthcare, but that seems way beyond the usual call of duty for an occupational therapist.