Confessions of a Veteran Dieter

The first time I remember going on a diet was in the fourth grade, and I think I tried to lose weight during every school year after that. I did it to please my parents, to stop the teasing, to be prettier. I was too young to realize that I should do it to be healthier.

As I got older, I rebelled against suggestions from my parents, taking their honest attempts to help me as criticism, that even they thought something was wrong with me. You know, it’s hard to be teased and left out and then come home and confide in my parents, who in turn, suggested ways that I could lose weight. I know now that they weren’t trying to criticize me. They just wanted me to be happy, but I think they thought losing weight was the only way to accomplish that goal.

I love my parents, don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to be on Oprah spilling my sob story about how mean my parents were, because they weren’t. I know that I am lucky to have a mother and father who love me as much as they do, but no family is perfect. While those imperfections have contributed to the weight problem I have today, they are not the sole cause.

Ultimately, I am the one responsible for putting food into my mouth. No one held a gun to my head and said, “Eat those french fries.” No one twisted my arm and said, “Dammit, you will NOT exercise today.” In the end, I am the reason I weigh 100+ pounds more than I should.

And I am the reason why it’s about to change.