Laura Micetich grew up in a family where health was talked about often. Her dad was a doctor, her mom worked both as a lawyer and a farmer, and her little brother was always running around playing sports. Meals were eaten together at the table, conversations about well-being were ordinary, and the family kept active. As a child Laura wasn’t particularly overweight, but she did have round cheeks and a deep love for food that went far beyond chicken nuggets and fries. While most kids wanted simple meals, she leaned toward olives, escargot, and tartar. That curiosity for taste never left her, nor did her awareness of her size.
By middle school, she was already tall, almost six feet tall, and bigger than most girls around her. She tried sports like basketball, soccer, swimming, cheerleading, and horseback riding. While she loved the competitive part, she dreaded anything that required long running or cardio. Standing out as the tall, heavier girl made her painfully aware of how society labeled young women. Back then there was little talk about body diversity. There were only two categories whispered about: skinny girls and fat girls, and being fat was seen as the worst thing to be. It was a cruel, narrow way of thinking, and Laura carried it.
Her eating habits became more secretive. She would sneak food when nobody was looking, grabbing snacks late at night or binging on sweets from the kitchen. In eighth grade, she thought she could coast on her past performance in soccer, but her coach made everyone run a mile during tryouts. Laura and a few others hid behind a shed but were caught. When she didn’t make the roster, it was a turning point. She begged her parents to send her to a weight-loss camp, where she was surrounded by other kids who knew the same struggle. For the first time she felt less alone. She learned about nutrition, discovered weightlifting, and realized her size strengthened her. She lost twenty pounds that summer, but like many seasons before, her motivation faded when real life set in again.
Through high school, Laura’s weight continued to creep up and so did her insecurities. She buried herself in theatre, film, and student government, choosing places where her body didn’t define her. But food remained a source of comfort and conflict. By college, the combination of stress, late-night pizza deliveries, and a boyfriend who could eat anything without gaining weight led to what she now calls “the perfect storm.” Her binge eating escalated, and within a few years she had become morbidly obese. She was out of breath climbing stairs, her joints ached constantly, and doctors warned her about high blood pressure, thyroid issues, and the likelihood of future heart disease.
At just twenty-two, she was told she was heading toward a life of medication or worse, an early death. For years she had quietly considered weight loss surgery, and she finally raised the idea with her family. But research surprised her. Surgery would only work if she was ready to make lasting lifestyle changes. That reality hit hard. No matter her path, the work would come down to her. One night she cleared out her fridge, pressed play on a ten-minute workout video, and collapsed in sweat after a few minutes. But instead of giving up, she paused, caught her breath, and tried again. For the first time, she finished it. That small victory became the seed of something bigger.
Laura challenged herself to thirty days of movement and healthy eating. She didn’t count macros, rely on pills, or chase fad diets. She kept it simple, less junk food and more protein, greens, and movement. The gym became a second home. She fell in love with lifting weights, and the pounds started to fall away. Within a year she had lost one hundred pounds, but more importantly, she had gained a sense of patience and perseverance she never had before. She no longer trained just to lose weight. She taught because she loved how strong it made her feel.
As she finished her teaching degree, Laura also began sharing progress pictures online under “The Iron Giantess.” At first it was just for herself, but soon thousands of people began following, inspired by her journey. She realized that the conversations missing from her childhood, about body image, kindness, and acceptance, were needed now more than ever. She took her love of teaching beyond the classroom, speaking openly about health, self-talk, and inclusivity. Today she works with an agency that challenges stereotypes and helps young people see there is more than skinny or fat. Her story proves that healing the body also heals the mind, and that strength is measured not just in pounds lost, but in the courage to start again every day.
