Katie Medlock

I can feel the air on my thighs and a jiggle in my step after I slip into my gym shorts. My cellulite, which rarely sees the light of day, is hanging out for all to see. My thighs rub together and stubble stands on end without the protective sheath of my capris. I am ready to get my workout on. And I am uncomfortable.

The morning dread. The withdrawal from co-workers and loved ones. The point is: my job was no longer working for me. And it was time, debt or no debt, to set myself free.