Miller - Big Girl: how I gave up dieting and got a life

October 2013

Im not special. Not that you thought I was, but lets just be clear that being a twenty-first-century woman with a messed-up relationship to food does not make me a beautiful and unique snowflake.

My story started like that of a million other snowflakes: Id been wrestling with my chubby body for my entire conscious life, doing anything I could to make it small. I tried every mainstream weight-loss fad and nutrition plan. Id worked with dietitians and doctors, all of whom added more foods to my Bad list until there was little left on the Good. Every time, it worked. And, every time, it then stopped working. Inevitably, I tired of hunting for low-carb sandwich wraps or could no longer stomach the flavor of fat-free, sugar-free yogurt with absolutely no fruit on the bottom. Each attempt petered out and the same old weight bloomed anew around my hips and beneath my chin, along with an extra ten pounds. But no matter. All I needed was a fresh start.

I dont believe in fresh starts anymore. I see them happening all around me, but Im not buying it. You break up with your lover and move to a new apartment that doesnt smell like him. You have a lousy day at work and decide its time to go back to grad school. You take the job in San Francisco, thinking, Ill become a California person who makes homemade jam and jogs. But in the end, youre still the same old jelly buyer.

Of course, its easy for me to judge, because I never cared about any of that. I just wanted to be skinny. At least, I wanted to be not fat. I wanted to start over and learn how to eat less, how to dislike brownies, how to want to wake up for a 6 a.m. workout every day, forever. You dont need grad school for that. You just need a diet. The real-life version of a fairy godmother, every diet on earth promises one thing: You will be different. This is the trick. This is the magic that will finally transform you, thirty pounds in thirty days. Well take care of the fairy dust; you just have to believe.

I was twenty-nine when the spell finally broke.

I started my last diet at the age of twenty-seven. Up until then, Id been in limbo. Id spent most of my twenties watching as friends blossomed into adulthood while I watched reruns. I wanted a life, too. I wanted to be a writer, have a relationship, or even just have sex. But I just wasnt ready, and I definitely wasnt thin enough. So I signed up for Weight Watchers for the fourth time believing without a doubt that this was itthe final, freshest fresh start.

I spent a year counting Weight Watchers Points and power-walking to yoga class at 7 a.m. and hitting the gym every night. Lo and behold, it worked. My weight dropped from the 200s to the 160s; I wasnt thin but I wasnt quite so monstrous. The villagers wouldnt light torches if I went outside. Anyway, Id lose the remaining thirty pounds (maybe forty pounds?) soon enough. Armored in my new skinnyish clothes, I nudged my way out of the comfort zone, e-mailing editors with my little humor essay pitches and wading into the world of online dating (with a profile full of new, not-fat photos).

Nudge turned to push and suddenly I got a writing gig, and then another. I met a guy, and then another. I found I kind of liked this whole doing-something-with-my-life thing. Another year went by, and now I had a full-time job on an editorial staff. Plus, I was bonkers in love with a guy who loved me back, from head to toe. It was scary and new, but all of a sudden, I was out in the world, doing stuff Id only seen in movieslike dating and leaving the house.

Things would have been almost perfect, had it not been for one large and growing issue: me.

Suddenly, I was too occupied with my job for twice-a-day workouts. I wanted to hit the office early, a new idea itching in my fingers, so I scavenged a breakfast of stale cereal and those pretzels I left in my desk last week. Once, Id spent each Sunday making giant pots of fat-free soup, then going to yoga, then going to bed. Now, Sundays were for lazy mornings talking in bed with my boyfriend, then possibly dragging him to yoga, but probably just having sex instead. Besotted as I was with my new job and relationship, Id never be the kind of person who vanished on her friends, and so I made a point of scheduling dinners, brunches, and other excuses to sit around and talk over a plate of somethingregardless of how many Points I had left.