How I Went From a Size 18 to 12 in a Matter of Months

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I've been on a diet my whole life. My mother joked that I came out of her womb hungry for a cheeseburger, and I've been struggling with my Viking-sized appetite ever since. Always the largest among my circle of girlfriends, I never thought much about what I was eating — or how much — until I was 12 and started noticing boys. Suddenly, the salty snacks the Charlie's Chips truck delivered weekly weren't as appealing as the popular body suits all the girls wore with their corduroys.

Thanks to Twiggy's skinny frame glossing magazine covers, my older sisters constantly dieted. The message was clear; society equated skinniness with happiness and success, and a woman's worth depended on her appearance. So, I followed my sister's example, surviving on dry Melba toast and Tab for rapid weight loss.

Of course, I dropped 10 pounds in a few days and proudly shoved myself into the sausage-like casing of a pink leotard. This worked for two weeks until I heard the siren call of McDonald's French fries during our weekly teen Bible study group. While my friends were handing out Bible tracts at the mall, I chowed Big Macs down with the Hamburglar.

At 15, the grapefruit diet was all the rage, so I jumped on the citrus fruit bandwagon, hoping the enzymes would melt the fat off my belly. It worked for a while, but only because I spent a great deal of time in the bathroom. To this day, the sight of grapefruit makes my stomach automatically clench into intestinal war mode.

Then came all the liquid protein shakes and energy bars when I was 18 and the popular Scarsdale Diet that promised I'd lose "20 pounds in 14 days." I tortured myself with these fad diets, convinced that sacrificing calories was worth fitting into a tight pair of jeans to make my butt look good.

Why was I so obsessed with dieting? It came down to low self-image and a desperate need to attract boys. I had my share of body shaming growing up and longed to shop in the petite section where all the cool clothes were. Instead, I was relegated to the plus size section, where every outfit resembled a gunny sack from Little House on the Prairie.

By the time I was married and had kids in my 30s, I was painfully familiar with every diet ever invented, including the "chocolate diet" (which isn't as fun as it sounds). Each diet I tried was low fat, low carb, low calorie, and low fun. My repetitive meals consisted mainly of boiled chicken breasts, plain broccoli, fat-free cheese, and cardboard rice cakes — all of which became my new BFFs. I also calculated every calorie that went into my mouth as meticulously as an accountant helping a politician avoid tax fraud.

This was no way to live while the rest of the world enjoyed deep-dish pizzas and fatty chicken wings. I was resentful and food-jealous, but I was deeply torn between fitting into a size 8 or shopping the maternity rack for comfortable clothing (even though my "babies" were already filling out their college applications). When I was diagnosed as pre-diabetic and suffering from back and knee pain, I knew something had to change. After all, one can only live in yoga pants for so long.

Finally, in my early 60s, I discovered a pre-packaged meal plan (which features six small meals a day) that many of my friends were using. It actually woke me up from my binge-eating stupor to lose weight, and surprisingly, I have been able to maintain most of the weight loss. Yes, the little pouches filled with powdered food were similar to what astronauts eat, but the portion control worked for me.

Once mixed with water and cooked in a microwave, the powdered food swelled like the spongy critters in the Magic Grow Capsules that kids played with in the 90s. I found sticking with this diet plan easier since my meals were already prepared and the calories calculated. I also joined an online support group for people in the same program, and their enthusiasm helped carry me to the finish line.

I went from a size 18 to a 12 in a matter of months. Although I didn't reach my EXACT goal weight (or fit into my 1980s string bikini), I was still proud of how far I'd come. I also felt healthier than ever. More importantly, my back and knees stopped hurting and my doctor was thrilled I was no longer in danger of being diabetic. Even better, I can wear clothes with zippers and buttons instead of outfits made with elastic waistbands.

Once I was comfortable with my body weight, I started incorporating other foods into my meal plan. After all, the more restrictive a diet is, the harder it will be to stick to over time. Good thing my add-ons are healthy apples slathered with peanut butter, carrots with hummus and bell peppers dipped in cottage cheese.

I would only recommend trying a pre-packaged meal plan with doctor supervision — and any dietician will tell you that none of these diets are healthy long term. I used food to compensate for boredom, stress and what I perceived as personal failures. This led to a vicious cycle of overeating to feel better and then guilt for eating too much. It took a while for me to grasp that food was never the enemy; my lack of self-confidence was the saboteur.

I'm still watching my weight, and although I don't use a scale, my clothes will tell me when it's time to lay off the guacamole and chips for a bit. However, I'm not afraid of carrying a little extra weight on my frame — as long as I stay physically active and eat my greens. I may not be bone thin — but I’m now healthy!

Even better — my broader hips make a great landing place for sleepy grandbabies who want to snuggle. No pair of tight jeans can compete with that.


What diet plan has really worked for you? Let us know in the comments below.