The Secret

So a lot of people are asking for my secret to weight loss.

Technically, you can find it here.

But for those of you afraid to link before finishing my post, let me summarize the concept:

Eat less.

I know, I know, it sounds a lot simpler than it really is.

And I can say this because I have been fat – like, for real.

And I looove food. Like, when I think of a perfect day or heaven or anything vaguely divine, it always incorporates food; mostly Mexican food – enchiladas, carnitas, chile rellenos. Sometimes I throw in some Mussaman curry for extra spice. And occasionally I’ll add some dessert, though I much prefer savory to sweet. (My nachos could so beat up your cheesecake!)

Despite my new low-fat, low-cal ways, I firmly believe there is nothing wrong with these fantasies. I sincerely hope that anyone with a wicked metabolism or dying wish will bring them to life for me. And then send me pictures.

This is the part where I make a confession, and ask that all former flames or people who think a size 4 is average leave the screen. When I went to birth Miss Dub, I weighed 80 pounds more than I do today. And I’m still a little chubby.

Don’t do the math. I beg you.

And while 50 preggo pounds added to post-thyroid-zapping weight gain helped me achieve my large and in charge status, my eating habits weren’t exactly helping.

Somewhere between obsessing over food in college and getting married, I started to feel entitled to a hearty meal. Where I had been throwing together meals from a sparse single woman’s fridge – “a little broccoli, some toast, a mento” – I suddenly was making multi-course meals with full-fat ingredients.

But I didn’t stop there. I had seconds. I had dessert. And then I made a run for the border.

Gluttony was a form of entertainment, I suppose. It tasted good and it gave me something to do at night to fill the void studying, courting and hangin’ had left in my life.

And it was fun … until my thyroid was deemed defective and had to be destroyed.

And then the weight didn’t just creep on; it turned my scale into an uphill ride on a roller coaster.

Thankfully, I pulled the brake after Miss Dub’s debut.

And as you could imagine, that initial thud really hurt. It was hard to eat less – to stop before I felt full.

But then the roller coaster started to go down. Ten. Five. Fifteen. Twenty … until I weighed what I did when I got married, which is still about 10 pounds more than my goal.

And here’s the surprising part – losing weight felt much better than food ever tasted.

Better than an enchilada. Better than nachos. Almost better than a chile relleno. Almost.

So now, when I dream about a perfect day or heaven, I see myself standing next to that buffet table with fat-free ice cream bar in hand. I’m wearing a chic outfit, and I look good.

You can look good, too, if you’re not feeling fantasy-worthy.

But you have to eat less.

You don’t get to reward yourself with food.

You don’t get to overeat.

You don’t get to indulge every day.

But you will lose weight.

And that tastes good.