At six-foot, two-inches tall, I have always been a little short for my weight. Try as I might, I could not stretch to nine feet. Simply losing weight was never the answer for me either. Losing more than 100 pounds is no sweat for me. It took just nine months, the first time I did it in 1983. It took a few months longer when I did again in 1989. A decade later, it took nearly two years. My current 130-pound loss has taken me more than three years.
Now, I suspect at the ripe old age of 62, this will be the last time I have to lose 100 pounds or more. What’s different?
I could try every weight loss program in the free world, (OK, there aren’t a whole lot of free programs outside of self-imposed will) and the blubber machine would start up again at the first discouraging word. I’ve had more than my share of personal disasters in this lifetime, and more than my share of loss. There is an obvious algorithm that sets my charted success to a requiem. Of course, other people suffer greater setbacks than I can even imagine, without demanding chocolate sauce on their broccoli. Yet, no matter how great my success in finding my waistline in the past, I have always managed to fail at long-term waist management.
This time through the abyss I have discovered a far more measured approach. My food was measured of course, with the tools of proportion that simple thin people use. No more buckets, ladles or super-sized cups. No more spending entire afternoons sampling Costco treats. Even “diet” snacks, sodas and deserts are taken with teaspoon of angst.
More importantly, I’ve begun to think like a thin person. Not the thin person that to “binge and purge,” and can hide within the width of an LCD screen, but a thin person who can actually enjoy a piece of birthday cake and cream in their coffee without having to run to the gym. The kind of person that can fire up their metabolism like a political orator can fire up a crowd.
This means stoking the confidence. It means defining cool for yourself without relying on others to define it for you. It means most of all to throw yourself into something you will love today, the next day, and that day when the nachos at the convenience store call to you at 3 AM.
There are plenty of scientific facts and theories on what it takes to lose weight and keep it off. This one, however, seems to be working for me. Check with me in a couple of years. If you see me on the “Biggest Loser,” I may have to find a new theory.