Lots of hard work. It's like a full-time job. This won't read like your typical motivational story--if those actually motivated anyone, we wouldn't need so many of them.
First, the decision. I can't live like this anymore. Too painful.
Next, the research. Available in any library or bookstore. I decided to go the low-fat, high-fiber route, with increasing doses of exercise. Everyone knows what works.
Then, the commitment to cooking, menu planning, and portion control.
Lastly, limiting the challenges. Eating out, buffets, parties, holidays.
Sounds easy, right?
Nope.
I probably spend more time each day planning what I'm going to cook and eat than most of the chefs in those quirky little start-up restaurants. But it pays off. My food is good. I feel satisfied. Every single day is easier now that I'm not lugging around an extra 60 pounds everywhere I go. I save so much time not berating myself for having eaten something I didn't even want. That time saved is applied to menu planning. I spend much less time worrying about how I look or examining the passing crowd for that one person who is bulkier than I am, the one I can feel thinner than. I don't do any of that anymore. When I see someone big--really big, like the strings judge at my son's music festival--I wonder instead what his story is. What hurt is he eating to keep from feeling? What anger is he unable to express in any other way than a slow strangulation of his own life?
Because it's not easy being fat. Not easy to eat beyond the point of comfort, into gastric distress. Not easy to beat yourself up every day about your own bad habits and then continue them. Not easy to walk around in the world absolutely positive everyone's looking at you and your excess bulk and judging you. It takes a great commitment to pain. I wasn't able to do it.
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