I'm excited to dive into your journey, your story, and how you're helping so many women in their weight loss journey. I think it's absolutely inspiring getting to hear your story. Where I want to start is: Who is Corinne today? Then we'll break down how you got there.

That's a good question. I would say normal.

I know that sounds crazy, but I remember when I wanted to lose weight, thinking about, "What's a thin person like? What is it that they do?" And it really is, I think, what I am today.

I love to work out. I don't love going. So I feel like that's pretty normal. I work on pull-ups, but there's not a day that I go to the gym where I am not bitching, moaning, and griping. I mean, I literally will be talking to my best friend on the way, telling her, "I hate this. I wish I had the day off. Blah, blah, blah."

I want to eat foods like everybody else, but I don't feel controlled by them anymore. It's not something that plagues me. I don't have tons of food noise, but that doesn't mean I don't have food noise. When I think about it on a scale of one to ten, mine is like a three, whereas I used to live at a ten.

I mean, I just feel like I'm normal. I'm a chick who ordered a walking pad today because I get about 2,000 steps a day. I'm like everybody else. Just because I lost weight doesn't mean I'm out there doing all the things.

I was like, "Oh God, I ordered a walking pad." I had a handyman come and move a walking desk downstairs so I could just get off my ass. I was telling my friend, "Girl, there's not going to be anything sexy at 80 because I sat around in my fifties and ruined my back and hips from not getting enough steps."

I just think I'm a normal person. I'm not fancy. I don't do hardcore things.

I really stayed true to my promise when I decided to lose weight: I was never going to do anything that I wasn't willing to do for the rest of my life.

As I started, that was little things. They grew. And to this day, I won't do anything to keep my weight off that I'm not willing to do for the rest of my life.

So I just feel like I'm the definition of normal. Not extraordinary, but also not in the gutter all the time either.

Yeah, for sure. And we'll get into all this stuff, but I just want to acknowledge that I really love your approach because, especially in the weight loss space and fitness space, it's convoluted with all these hacks and this, that, and the other thing.

I'm sure we'll get into all the peptides and the GLP-1s and all that crazy stuff, but you're very much like, "No. Just keep it simple. If you overcomplicate things, you're not going to reach your goal. You're going to overwhelm yourself."

I want to go to the idea of when you were 100 pounds heavier.

Let's acknowledge the fact that you personally lost 100 pounds before you even began helping other people do this.

Take me back to that moment where you finally made the decision that this needed to stop.

Yeah, that was a rough day.

And unfortunately, I'm like most women. When I finally decided to do it, it wasn't like a hallelujah moment where the heavens opened and I had an epiphany. It was crying on the couch.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning. I know because The Price Is Right was coming on. In Nashville, 10 a.m. has always been when The Price Is Right comes on.

My son was a year old at the time. He was playing on the floor.

I'd always been overweight. Since the age of nine, I was overweight.

When I was growing up, my mama was 17 when she had me, 19 when she had my brother, and divorced by 20. We were broke. My mom worked two and three jobs our entire life.

She never could play with us. She was always too tired. I remember hearing that a thousand times.

As a kid, I swore I would never do that when I became a mother.

Well, I'm laying on the couch one day. He's a year old. He comes over to play with a ball, and I'm laid out. I say, "Mommy's too tired to play."

And I literally started crying.

It was such a moment for me.

Of course, I cried the rest of the day. My husband came home from work. I was sitting there, all swelled up from crying.

I looked at him and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm going to figure this out. I can't keep living like this."

I hit that moment of shame, feeling like I was becoming the very person I never wanted to be.

I love my mother, but I never wanted to be like her. I wanted to be someone different.

I also had a tremendous fear that my son would grow up overweight like me and that he would be bullied and ostracized. I knew in my heart that if I didn't change, I was going to put him in a position to have the same treatment that I did.

So I literally slept on it.

The next day, I woke up and did one new thing.

A lot of women will run out and join a program, start a diet, and do all the things. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I'm always trying to get people to join my program.

But I didn't do that because I just knew nothing out there was going to work for me. I had tried too many things. I was going to have to come up with Corinne's version.

It literally started with one rule:

I'm not doing anything that I won't do for the rest of my life.

Even if it has to be small. Even if it has to feel not good enough. Even if I have to sit and be afraid it won't work.

That's the price to pay because I know that if I start too hard, I will flame out.

So that's what I did.

Then I made another promise.

Every day that I woke up, I had a goal to do one thing a little bit better than the day before.

It did not have to be big. I just needed to try something.

If I couldn't do it, I would save it for later.

That was another big part of it. Maybe I'm not ready for it, but that doesn't mean we quit. It doesn't mean we never try it again. It just means right now I'm not ready.

The other thing was that I made a promise to myself that I didn't give a fuck what happened—I wasn't quitting ever again.

If it took me 30 years to lose weight, it would take me 30 years to lose weight.

But I was not quitting.

I also knew I was the type of person who gave up too easily.

So I promised myself: We're just not quitting this time. We'll keep going until we figure it out.

That was it. That was the magic sauce.

Yeah. And what was the first thing that you committed to? The thing you said, "I can do this for the rest of my life."

A 15-minute walk.

That was literally the first thing I did.

Reply with "Part 2" and I'll continue from there

That was literally the first thing I did.

My son was—we didn't know this at the time—but he has autism. That first year was a humdinger.

And I had spent my entire life emotionally eating.

I mean, that was about all I knew. If I had a bad day, if I was tired, if I felt unappreciated, if I was worried about something—you just ate.

And I wasn't ready to give up my food yet.

So I knew that I could walk every day, and I knew that I needed to walk every day.

He was not one to go. I couldn't put him in a stroller. I was not blessed with a child you could take out for long walks. He cried the whole time, and I was too fat to carry him the whole way.

So I told my husband that I wanted to get a membership at the Y. When he came home at night, I was going to go to the Y and walk on the treadmill.

It wasn't too far from our house.

And he was like, "That's fine."

He literally loved me. He always supported me, and he always believed in me before I did.

He just said, "Whatever you need to do, if you think it's going to help you, let me help you."

I was used to doing everything on my own, like my single mother.

So I took him up on it.

I said, "All right. I'm going to leave, even though you've worked all day."

And I'll tell you, I had to learn not to feel guilty about it.

I would leave feeling so guilty that he had worked all day, and then I was basically saying, "Here's the baby."

But that's all I did.

I remember the first day I went to that Y. That 15-minute walk kicked my butt.

I wasn't even walking fast.

But I made my commitment that I was going to walk 15 minutes every day.

Some days I did more. Some days it was just 15 minutes.

If I couldn't go to the Y, I would tell him, "I'm going outside. If I have to march around the parking lot, I'll do that."

We lived in a condo.

I just knew that even if I had to walk around my house, 15 minutes a day was something I could literally do.

And I knew it would be good for me.

That first step was more about figuring out what Corinne needed, not so much how I was going to lose weight.

I needed time away from my kid.

I needed to get moving again because I wasn't moving much.

It just seemed like the first logical step.

Yeah, I love the 15-minute rule.

It's something I talk about with my mastermind all the time, even in business.

We all have those things we don't want to do. It's been on the to-do list for three weeks. It could be the workout. It could be the big project. It could be whatever.

Just sit down for 15 minutes.

Or go do the workout for 15 minutes.

At the 15-minute mark, if you want to stop, you can stop.

But a lot of times, what you find is that you keep going a little bit further.

"Oh, it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be."

A word that keeps coming up in my head as you're telling your story is grace.

You talked about how you would try something, and if you couldn't do it, you'd shelf it for later.

A lot of people would beat themselves up.

They'd say, "I can't do that. I'm a loser. I'm going to be like this forever."

How did you continue to give yourself grace as you were doing those things, knowing that maybe one day you could take it off the shelf and try again?

Yeah, it was not easy.

And it wasn't as easy as it even sounds when I say it.

That is what I did, but if I had to draw it on a piece of paper, the process looked more like:

Mess up.

Think you're a loser.

Beat yourself up.

Remind yourself, "We don't do that anymore."

I remember one day saying, "Corinne, we're not talking to ourselves like this anymore. That is the reason why you always quit."

So I drew a line in the sand.

When that inner critic started up, I would come in and talk to myself differently.

Now, looking back, I can kind of see the magic and what happened.

But in the moment, I don't know how it happened because I did zero self-development back then.

As I've read books over the years, I've thought, "Man, I must have been absorbing this stuff through the air and water."

But if I had to describe it, I made sure my inner critic and the version of me I wanted to become became friends.

It wasn't like there was an inner critic and a future version of me constantly at war.

My future self wasn't yelling at the inner critic.

Sometimes she'd stare her down and say, "Hey, we're not talking to ourselves like that. That's why we always quit."

And sometimes she was really nice.

She'd say, "I know you think that a lot. We're just going to keep going because we know if we quit, it's only going to get worse."

We already know what quitting looks like.

We already know what that life looks like.

You said you didn't want that life anymore.

So a lot of the time it was that.

Then I just made an agreement with myself that the future-self voice was going to win.

I knew my self-talk was terrible.

I knew it was broken.

I knew it wasn't good.

I didn't think it was all true.

I always tell my clients there's a difference between something feeling true and something being true.

At some point, I realized, "Oh my God. You've thought this stuff for so long that it feels true. But that doesn't mean it is."

So I did a lot of reminding myself that just because my inner critic is a bitch doesn't mean she's right.

It just means she's very used to talking to me that way.

And again, I'm always shocked when I retell this stuff.

I don't get to tell my story very often, so thank you.

But I literally read no self-development.

When I look back now, after reading so much and becoming a coach, I think, "How did I make it through the first half of my life without ever opening a book?"

Yeah, it's unbelievable.

Actually, a lot of what you're saying resonates.

Number one, the inner critic is always there.

No matter what you do.

I've accomplished amazing things. You're doing incredible things.

And we still have that inner voice that says, "Who are you? Who do you think you are?"

It's about quieting that voice as best you can.

I have a friend named Sarah Centrella who recently wrote a book called Think It.

She talks about this exact thing.

She says, "Picture those thoughts as tennis balls flying at you. Your job is to hit them back instead of absorbing them."

And that's exactly what you were doing without having a book teaching you how to do it.

It's fascinating.

Now, you talked a little bit about emotionally eating.

I think a lot of people don't talk about food as an addiction.

Food is an addiction.

It's a numbing mechanism for so many people, just like alcohol, drugs, sex, or anything else.

People use food that way, and it becomes a detriment to their life.

You said at first, "I knew I didn't want to let go of the food."

What did it look like when you started to reshape what you were putting into your body?

So for me, the very first thing was making small changes.

I didn't cut out the foods I loved.

But I started noticing patterns.

For example, when my husband would take the baby for the rest of the night, I would eat ice cream on the couch.

We'd have dinner, and then he'd take Logan upstairs for a bath because that was the only time he really got to spend with him.

And I would count down the seconds until that happened.

The second they went upstairs, I was headfirst into half a gallon of ice cream.

It was because I felt guilty for sitting there and letting him take care of things, even though he wanted to do it.

I felt lazy.

I felt guilty.

And then all of that would come crashing down on me.

I didn't like how my life was going at the time.

I felt like a terrible mother because, and I'm going to be real honest, my child was not easy.

I spent so many days questioning, "Why did we have a kid?"

And then I felt awful for having thoughts like that.

So it would really hit me at night.

I had to eat.

I ate so I didn't have to feel bad.

For me, the first step in changing was realizing that ice cream was the only thing helping me not feel so bad.

I needed to figure out a new way not to feel bad.

My first epiphany was literally sitting down with my husband and asking him:

"Tell me what your real opinion is. Do you think I'm lazy and selfish because you have to take care of Logan every night?"

And he said, "No."

For probably the hundredth time, he told me:

"I want to do it."

And it dawned on me that I had to stop feeling guilty about something that wasn't actually true.

Sometimes it was conversations like that.

I had to prove to myself that some of the things I was thinking and feeling were literally things I had made up.

Other times, there wasn't anybody who could give me permission to feel okay. I had to do it myself.

The way I describe it is this:

Until I fixed what food was doing for me, it was my coping mechanism.

If I didn't have another way to cope, or if I didn't have an epiphany that fulfilled a need for me, taking away the food just threw me into pain and misery.

That's why so many women can be "good" on diets for a little while.

But if food is what you use to get through the day, relieve stress, calm anxiety, or keep yourself from snapping at people, then dieting becomes miserable.

A lot of my women call themselves angry eaters.

They're like, "If I don't shove a Ding Dong in my mouth, I'm going to yell at somebody."

When you go on a diet and somebody gives you calories, macros, and a list of foods to avoid, they've also taken away your coping mechanism.

They've taken away the way you relax.

The way you love yourself.

The only break you ever get.

All of those things.

People can only white-knuckle that for so long.

It's not white-knuckling through the food that's killing them.

It's white-knuckling through the misery.

So I had to start figuring out all the places where I was emotionally eating.

I had to fix why I was emotionally eating.

Then weight loss got really easy because there wasn't a trigger anymore.

At that point, all I had to do was get better foods into my body.

And it finally felt like something I wanted to do instead of something I was forcing myself to do.

Yeah. Where do you think those thoughts came from?

When I look at a lot of things we do as adults, I always check in with little Justin.

Why are you like this?

Why are you triggered right now?

Why did you have one more drink?

Why did you do this?

A lot of it goes back to childhood.

Not always, but often.

Why do you feel food became your coping mechanism?

Where did it really begin?

Because you've said you've been overweight your whole life.

Well, before the age of nine, we lived in Alabama.

My parents were divorced by the time they were twenty, but they were like a lot of couples back then.

On again. Off again.

Very often we didn't have a place to live because my mom would leave my dad.

We'd be sleeping in hotels.

She was really poor.

My dad and I have a decent relationship now, but he was a kid himself.

He was younger than my mom when I was born.

He never paid child support.

Never really helped us.

Barely saw us growing up.

So we had a lot of food insecurity.

I remember being hungry.

I remember my mom taking us to buffets and saying:

"Eat all you can. I don't know when the next meal will be."

I remember her working nights at a hotel.

She got one meal a day.

She'd let my brother and me eat first, and then she'd eat whatever was left.

That was our life.

If school wasn't in session and we couldn't get meals there, food was very uncertain.

Then, when I was nine, we moved to Nashville for a better life.

We moved in with my grandparents.

My grandfather cooked me hamburgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

God love him.

But they fed us.

And I ballooned.

There were no guardrails.

I think they felt bad for us.

So they fed us all the time.

Then I started getting bullied at school.

And a lot of this goes back to my grandfather.

I loved him to death.

I know he wasn't trying to do anything wrong.

But I think one of the reasons I learned to cope with food was because I'd get bullied all day at school, and then my grandfather would take me to what he called "the little store," which was just a convenience store.

He'd say:

"Get whatever you want."

Chips.

Candy.

Cokes.

Whatever.

And it was the first time all day that I felt good.

I'd eat.

Then my mom had weight problems too.

So she and I did Weight Watchers together.

The second she went off her diet, I went off mine.

There were a million little things.

And being a product of the '80s and early '90s, we were bombarded with terrible messaging around dieting.

My best friend in high school was anorexic.

I remember thinking, "I wish I could just not eat like her."

That was my dream.

To be able to starve myself and have it not be a problem.

She was legitimately sick.

She had to be hospitalized.

And I remember thinking she had a better problem than I did.

So it was a lot of things.

Food was a source of comfort.

Because my mom worked so much, going to a buffet where we could eat all we wanted was one of the only times we connected.

One of the only times we talked.

It was very normalized to eat until you were stuffed.

That became normal.

That's how you were supposed to eat.

Even after we weren't broke anymore, we still ate until we were stuffed to the gills.

I wasn't athletic.

My brother was.

He stayed thin as a rail.

I was the exact opposite.

Everything stuck to me.

So it was a lot of factors.

But I don't spend a lot of time looking back trying to blame things.

I always tell my clients that if it feels useful to go back and understand why your relationship with food developed the way it did, then do it.

Sometimes it gives people relief.

They realize, "Oh, it makes sense that I struggle with food."

But some women go back and only get angry.

And if that's what happens, it isn't helpful.

If all it does is make you feel broken, then we don't need to focus on it.

For a long time, I wanted to know where it all started because I was curious.

I knew it would help me help other people.

But I always ask my clients:

"If you find out somebody taught you this, are you going to feel relieved or angry?"

If they say angry, I tell them we're wasting our time.

That's only going to slow you down.

At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter where it started.

What matters is whether you want something different now and what you want for yourself going forward.

You can never know where it started and still completely fix what's happening in your life today.

You mentioned earlier how your food noise went from a ten to about a three.

You said, "I'm a normal person. I'm living my life normally now."

How were you able to do that?

I think that's probably the hardest thing for most people struggling with food. They have all that food noise and don't know how to turn it off, so they keep turning it off by eating.

How do you dial that back?

It's all the emotional work.

It's figuring out things like why you're eating in the first place.

I was just working with a client who's a terrible people pleaser.

I mean, she's always agreeing to do things she doesn't want to do and then hating having to follow through.

So she spends a lot of her life eating.

She agrees to events that involve lots of people, but she's a complete introvert.

She's eating while getting ready.

Eating on the way there.

Eating at the party.

She's worried about the conversations she's going to have.

She's going to have a lot of food noise, but not because she loves chips.

The food noise isn't the real problem.

The food noise is just how the problem shows up.

The real issue is that she's a people pleaser.

Food noise presents itself as:

"It's good."

"It's free."

"I deserve it."

But those aren't the drivers.

The driver is whatever is turning up the dial.

So with her, we've been working on how to stop believing that saying no makes her selfish, mean, or disappointing.

Because until that belief changes, she'll keep saying yes.

She'll choose saying yes over being seen as a bitch.

She'll even say yes if she knows it means she'll eat her face off for two weeks leading up to the event.

When you fix the root causes, the dial automatically turns down.

Everybody has food noise.

Normal eaters have food noise.

But they're usually living somewhere between a one and a four.

They're not living at a ten.

My father-in-law is a great example.

Funny guy. Always been thin. Loves food.

If we're at a family gathering, he'll start planning dinner while we're still eating breakfast.

He'll be sitting there eating pancakes saying:

"So what do you think we're doing for lunch?"

"What should we have for dinner?"

He's always talking about food.

But his relationship with food comes from enjoyment.

It's love.

So even though he's thinking about food a lot, it's only a three or four.

When you have a lot of emotional stuff attached to food, that's when it becomes a nine or ten.

Everybody thinks about food.

But once it gets above about a five, it stops being normal food thoughts and starts becoming:

"Oh my God, I can't stop thinking about it."

"It's not fair if I don't get it."

"What if I never get it again?"

That's when it becomes a problem.

Yeah, I've always wondered about those people who love food that much but stay skinny their whole lives.

What's the secret?

That's a great example.

The food thoughts aren't tied to emotional survival.

They're tied to enjoyment.

And that's why it looks different for different people.

So when did losing all this weight turn into a business?

You now run a multi-seven-figure company helping women build the life they want.

How did it go from helping yourself to helping thousands of women?

In 2007...

Actually, I think I may have told this story on another call.

Anyway, it took me about 18 months to lose my weight.

I started in 2005.

Then in February of 2007, I decided I was going to help people.

The reason was simple.

I was standing in my bedroom one day tucking in my shirt.

Every woman who's ever struggled with weight knows there comes a point where you stop tucking your shirt in because all it does is draw attention to your body.

I lived in baggy shirts and baggy pants.

But I'd lost 100 pounds.

I was finally ready to show it off.

I was looking in the mirror, and my husband walked in.

I was grinning from ear to ear.

He said, "Why are you so happy?"

And I started crying.

I looked at him and said:

"Because I am happy."

Then I said:

"Most women don't feel like this."

And I knew it.

I'd spent my whole life around women who weren't happy.

Women who were eating because they weren't happy.

And I remember telling him:

"I think I've finally figured it out."

Not only had I lost the weight, but I genuinely believed I was going to keep it off.

And I felt happy.

I wasn't constantly stressed about gaining it back.

Something had changed.

So I looked at him and said:

"I'm going to help women."

That was the first time I'd ever said it out loud.

I said:

"I'm going to figure out how to help women lose weight."

It took a long time to get here.

For the first ten years, I was basically playing Barbie Dream House business.

I was doing it, but I had no idea women could make real money doing something like this.

I'd never seen that.

My mom worked for other people her whole life.

This was before the internet was full of influencers and online businesses.

I think MySpace had just come out.

So I went to the Weight Watchers message boards.

I didn't even lose weight with Weight Watchers.

I just knew women were talking about weight there.

So I started talking to them.

Eventually I got a little following.

People started reading my blog.

I started emailing them.

Then one day I looked at Chris and said:

"I'm going to send the email tonight."

He asked what email.

I said:

"I'm going to ask if anybody wants me to help them lose weight."

Then I asked:

"How do I take money?"

He said:

"There's something called PayPal."

I had literally never heard of it.

He helped me create a PayPal link.

I emailed it out.

And that's how it started.

Then it just kept growing.

Around 2015, I got officially certified in life coaching and weight coaching.

I had started following someone online, and the way she explained how the brain worked made me think:

"This is exactly what I did."

"She's got a framework for it."

So I got certified through her.

During certification, we spent eight days together.

One day she came up to me and asked:

"How much money are you making?"

I proudly said:

"About $30,000 a year."

She looked at me and said:

"That's ridiculous."

I said:

"What do you mean?"

And she said:

"I've listened to you all week. You should be making a lot more money than that."

Then she said:

"You just don't know how."

She told me I should be making at least $100,000 by the end of the year.

And she was the first person who had ever told me that I could decide how much money I wanted to make and then make a plan to get there.

I remember thinking:

"Well... that's exactly how weight loss works."

You decide what you want and then make a plan.

Something clicked.

It lit a fire under me.

I realized I could have a much bigger impact.

So I started figuring it out.

And now, here we are.

What an incredible journey.

And I think sometimes we need that person who sees something in us that we don't even know is possible. That was that moment for you.

Someone looked at you and said, "You could do this."

We talked about our mutual connection, Roberto. I hired him in 2020 as my coach when I lost 75% of my income because the world shut down.

I remember thinking:

"Dude, I need to make money or I need to get a job, and I don't want to get a job."

I hired him because during our discovery call, after knowing him for about a year, he asked me:

"What do you want to do? What do you want to make money doing?"

And I said:

"I just want to make money being me."

He was the first person who didn't laugh at that idea.

He didn't treat it like it was ridiculous.

So I said, "Okay, cool. I'll hire you because you didn't laugh at me, and then we'll figure out how to do this."

I reworked my business from that standpoint and was able to recover.

Sometimes all it takes is one person seeing something in you that nobody else sees.

It's such a beautiful thing.

As you were going through all this and helping more and more women, was there ever a moment where you experienced what people call imposter syndrome?

And I know that term gets overused, but I'll explain why I'm asking.

Years ago, I interviewed BJ Gaddour. He's been on the cover of Men's Health multiple times. He was one of their top fitness guys. He's ripped, five-percent body fat, incredible shape.

But he was a fat kid growing up.

And he told me:

"Justin, I was in the best shape of my life the last time I was on the cover. I was standing there in a Speedo, and I still felt like the fat sixteen-year-old."

He felt frozen in time.

Have you ever experienced that?

And if so, how do we stop telling ourselves those stories?

Oh, I think I have imposter syndrome all the time.

I actually think it's normal.

I think our minds are always trying to figure out who we are, and they usually err on the side of underestimating us.

It's protection.

I always tell people that our brains act like assholes with the best intentions.

They're basically saying:

"I don't want you to get your hopes up because I know how bad you'll feel if this doesn't work out."

So our brains keep our hopes low.

Even though it doesn't feel good, they think they're helping.

For me, the biggest example is my annual event.

Every year, I host a big event for my members.

About 500 people attend in person, and over 1,000 attend virtually.

Every year, right before that event, I get completely in my head about how I look.

I don't care how good I look.

I don't care how many people tell me I'm beautiful.

I still get in my head.

Jarlene and the team always remind me:

"Nobody walks into the room and says, 'Wow, you're ugly in person.'"

But every year it's real.

Every year, when I walk out on stage, I almost always cry.

I tell everyone:

"Let's get the tears out of the way."

I cry for about thirty seconds, and then we start.

Because every bit of that imposter syndrome hits me all at once.

I'm a good crier.

If I cry, I feel cleansed.

Eventually I stopped apologizing for it.

Now I just tell everyone we're going to cry for a minute and then move on.

The other place it shows up is at the pool.

We go to Vegas a lot in the summer.

I wear bikinis.

I've had surgeries to remove loose skin, but I still have quite a bit, especially on my legs.

That first day at the pool every year, I'm completely in my head.

I don't feel like someone who helps women build body confidence.

I don't feel like someone who teaches women how to lose weight and change their lives.

I feel like a frumpy fifty-year-old woman walking into a day club full of kids.

I think I'm just like everybody else.

I don't know that any of us ever completely get over that stuff.

Some of us just get really good at handling it.

And that's what I try to teach women.

We're probably never going to eliminate negative body image.

We're probably never going to eliminate self-criticism.

Whatever your inner critic's favorite poison is, it's persistent.

It feels like it says:

"You can't get rid of me. You need me."

So instead of spending all our energy trying to make it disappear, let's get really good at handling it.

I'm good at feeling insecure for a little while and then reminding myself that's normal.

The show still has to go on.

I want to go to the pool with my husband.

I don't want to stay in Nashville because I'm ashamed of my legs.

So I go.

The first day feels like crap every time.

But I go because I know I've survived it before.

And every single time, I've had a great time once I got through that first part.

That's what I've gotten good at.

And I think that's what most people need to learn.

But I think imposter syndrome is normal.

The people who don't have imposter syndrome are usually the people who aren't doing big things.

If you're not stretching yourself, you're never going to feel insecure.

The people who feel the most insecurity are usually the people who are trying to change.

The people attempting things their current selves don't yet believe they can do.

And I don't think that's a bad thing.

I think we should spend more time on the edge of doubt, fear, and uncertainty than we allow ourselves to.

Otherwise, we'll never become who we want to be.

Yeah, every time I do something new in business, I feel that.

When I launched my mastermind three and a half years ago, I thought:

"Who do you think you are?"

"Nobody's going to join this."

And then I thought:

"Well, I'm going to try anyway."

Now I feel completely confident in that space.

I'm launching a new type of event in January, and there's some imposter syndrome around that.

Who's going to come?

Will anybody care?

That's normal.

It's exactly what happens when you step outside your comfort zone.

I remember asking someone:

"Hey, are you coming to my event?"

And he said:

"No, I just go to my event."

He worked for a large organization and attended the same conference every year.

He said:

"That's where I get my stuff."

And I remember thinking:

"Of course there's no imposter syndrome there."

That's a room where he's comfortable.

There's nothing new.

Nothing risky.

Nothing uncertain.

So it's fascinating to think about it that way.

But I want to ask you the question I ask every guest.

It's a two-part question.

First:

What is your definition of success?

And second:

What are three things you do every day to ensure that success for yourself?

My definition of success?

Honestly, it's probably very simple.

Am I proud of myself?

That's what matters most.

I spent so many years not being proud of myself.

So now it means everything.

Whenever I feel shame, it's usually a sign that I'm not pushing myself enough.

Because I know who I am.

I'm ambitious.

I'm driven.

I'm a firstborn daughter who practically raised her own mother.

Every personality test I've ever taken puts achievement, competition, and determination at the top.

So when I start feeling ashamed, I know I'm hiding from something.

I'm backing away because I'm afraid.

For me, success is being able to put my head on the pillow at night and feel proud.

I'm proud of my marriage.

I'm proud of my relationship with my son.

It's not an easy relationship.

We have almost nothing in common.

I have to work at it.

But I'm proud of it.

I'm proud of how I take care of my family.

My mother.

My brother.

My niece.

I'm proud of my business.

I run it with integrity.

I take care of my members like they're family.

That's success to me.

Not money.

Not accomplishments.

Just integrity and pride in who I am.

As for the three things I do every day...

The first is planning.

Every day I sit down and decide what I'm doing.

I use GoodNotes on my iPad.

I don't just run through endless to-do lists.

I review what's important and connect my day to things that matter.

If something on my calendar isn't connected to a goal or a value, then what's the point?

The second thing is talking to my best friend.

We use an app called Marco Polo.

It is rare that a day goes by without us talking.

She is my person.

My husband is amazing, but he's not the person I talk to about every random thought in my head.

That's what Jane is for.

She's the person I can tell everything to.

She helps me process life.

Having someone like that is incredibly important.

And the third thing is sleep.

I'm absolutely maniacal about protecting my sleep.

My son didn't sleep through the night for the first eighteen months of his life.

He woke up five or six times a night.

It nearly destroyed my mental health.

I've struggled with depression throughout my life.

I attempted suicide when I was seventeen.

I've gone through periods of severe depression in my twenties and thirties.

When I don't sleep, everything falls apart.

My emotional stability.

My focus.

Everything.

So I protect sleep fiercely.

I'm the old lady who's asleep by eight o'clock most nights.

If I can eat dinner at four in the afternoon, that's a great day.

I want dinner done.

I want pajamas on.

I want to be asleep by eight.

And that's how I take care of myself.

What time do you wake up?

It depends.

I don't set an alarm anymore because I run my own business and don't have to.

Sometimes I wake up at 4:00 a.m.

Sometimes I wake up at 6:00 a.m.

It usually depends on when I have to get up to go to the bathroom.

If I get up around 3:30, I'll probably sleep until 6:00.

If I get up around 1:00 or 2:00, I'll usually wake up around 4:00 or 4:30 and just start my day.

I'm the kind of person who starts with work.

I make a cup of coffee.

I immediately get to planning.

I like to have a good work session, and then I close it.

I usually hit the gym between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning.

Then I come home, shower, and get ready.

I don't start doing things that require me to be on camera or in meetings until around 10:00 a.m., and I only do that two days a week.

The rest of the time, I come home, get comfortable, usually have a cat sitting next to me, and start working.

That's how I work.

I work in peace.

I'm a very focused person when I work.

I enjoy my work, and I think that makes it easier to focus.

I get overwhelmed sometimes, but I usually go for a Marco Polo walk, and that fixes it.

Marco Polo with Jane is basically oral journaling for me.

I think that's why it's so important to my success.

Sometimes I actually journal and write things out, but a lot of the time I can just talk to my best friend.

She doesn't even have to give me advice.

I can just say things out loud and work through them.

So those are probably the three things.

Nothing fancy.

I love it.

Shout-out to Jane.

Shout-out to Jane and all the support.

She's going to hear this and be like, "Oh my God, you talked about me so much."

No, I love it.

We're coming up on our time, but I want to briefly touch on the noise happening around GLP-1s and peptides.

What's your take?

Are you pro?

Are you anti?

Where do you stand?

I think it's a great topic.

In my program, I'd say about 20–25% of our members are on one now.

I don't teach GLP-1s specifically, and I'm not one of those influencers online constantly telling people what they should or shouldn't do.

I don't have anything against them.

I've actually watched them help my members.

What I've seen is that they help reduce food noise enough that people can finally do the emotional work.

For the emotional eaters I work with, that has been huge.

Everybody who comes to me wants to lose weight, but they're also emotional eaters at heart.

That's who I help.

When GLP-1s first came out, I was skeptical.

I thought, "I don't know about this."

But then I researched them and started watching my members use them.

I even created a private group because I wanted to understand what was happening.

What I discovered is that they're another tool.

But if you only use them like a diet, you're going to run into the same problems people always run into.

I have this thing I teach where I say that traditional diets leave out two major pieces of the puzzle.

The first is that every woman is going to mess up while losing weight.

Everyone does.

And there are a million reasonable reasons why.

It's not because you're lazy.

It's not because you lack willpower.

It's not because you're not trying hard enough.

Usually it's emotional stuff.

Or unrealistic expectations.

Or not understanding how habits actually form.

But if every time you mess up, you quit, hate yourself, and eat your face off, then you can't lose weight.

Most diets don't teach women how to handle mistakes.

The second thing they don't teach is why you're overeating in the first place.

If you don't fix that relationship with yourself, a GLP-1 may help you lose weight, but it won't change the fact that you're a people pleaser.

It won't change perfectionism.

It won't change the belief that you're never good enough.

It won't change the thousand reasons people eat that have nothing to do with food.

So I always tell people that if they're going to use those tools, they owe it to themselves to solve the complete puzzle.

I don't have a problem with GLP-1s at all.

As for peptides, I think they're going to be similar.

They're different tools, but they're still tools.

They're aids.

Women have to stop focusing exclusively on things like:

"What should I eat?"

"What supplement should I take?"

"What peptide should I use?"

There are absolutely physical health components to weight loss.

But your mental and emotional health have to improve too.

Otherwise you'll regain the weight.

Especially with GLP-1s.

I think I recently saw a statistic saying that one in twenty people is currently on one.

That's astounding.

And that number is only going to grow.

But most people won't stay on them forever.

A lot of people won't be able to afford them forever.

So what happens when they stop?

If they never fixed the reason they were eating in the first place, they're going to gain the weight back.

Yeah.

I always say the brain is the world's greatest hoarder.

It never throws anything away.

If you've spent years eating to feel better and then you start taking a GLP-1, your brain just shoves that behavior into a corner.

It's still there.

Then one day you stop taking the medication, have an emotional problem, and your brain says:

"Hold on. I saved something for this."

And suddenly all the emotional eating comes right back out.

That's why we have to solve those underlying issues.

If somebody wants to use a GLP-1 and can afford it, great.

I have no issue with that.

Just don't think it's the entire solution.

If you're eating for emotional reasons, you owe it to yourself to fix those reasons.

Not just because it helps with weight loss, but because it gives you a better life.

If you fix how you feel about yourself, everything gets better.

One hundred percent.

So before we wrap up, tell people how they can learn more about you.

How can they join your community?

Where should they start?

The first thing I would do is go to my free course.

More than a million women have gone through it.

It's been around for years, and people still love it.

It's at NoBSFreeCourse.com.

That's where I would start.

If you go through that course, I'll teach you the basics.

I'll talk more about everything we've discussed today.

You'll get my emails.

You'll be introduced to my podcast, Losing 100 Pounds with Corinne.

I always tell people that it's the gateway into my world.

Once you're in, you're going to get immersed in all of it.

And I truly believe you'll be better off for it.

I love it.

Easy enough.

And free, which is always a bonus.

Make sure you guys go check that out if this is the kind of support you need.

Corinne, I wrap up every interview with the same question.

Since the show is called The Growth Now Movement, the question is:

In your life, what has been your biggest moment of growth?

Oh gosh.

I think it was marrying my husband.

I honestly didn't think I'd ever get married.

It was really hard for me to trust that a man could genuinely love me.

I'd been through some rough relationships.

My husband is an eternal optimist.

When I say I never read self-development books, my husband is basically a walking self-development book.

He naturally believes in people.

He naturally believes in himself.

He sees the upside in everything.

I'd never been around someone like that before.

Learning to trust that he loved me changed everything.

Watching him and paying attention to how differently he viewed the world changed me.

I don't think I'd be where I am today without him.

He sounds like a really good man.

You've talked about him a lot during this interview, and it's always been with so much admiration.

My wife is incredible.

My life is ten times better because I met her.

When you find that person, it changes everything.

It really does.

Without a doubt.

Well, Corinne, thank you so much for coming on and sharing your story and your wisdom with my audience.

Most importantly, thank you for helping so many women take back their lives.

It's incredibly inspiring.

Thank you.

Well, I appreciate that.

Thank you, Justin.