She Stopped Searching for the Magic Answer and Presto!

The truth is, I never wanted to trade my food for thin. I wanted to cheat science.

I was a zaftig teenager and a Rubenesque adult. I ran out of off-the-rack dress sizes and euphemisms at the same time. My high weight was 205. My current weight is 125, which I have maintained for four years.

I used to seek “the magic,” the secret formula for skinny; every dieter does. Some alchemist’s concoction: bat’s wing, pinch of Olestra, hair from the chest of Richard Simmons.

Seeing some waif giggling over a bowl of cream sauce, I knew “she’s got it! They’re keeping it from me!” But it always computes. She will stop at four bites or fast tomorrow, or she lives in step class, or is metabolically gifted in a way my Slavic hips have only dreamed.

But there is no magic. There is one answer, and it had tortured me from the moment it became inescapable: Eat less and move more. I heard it before but wasn’t ready.

When I finally said uncle, 18 years of yo-yo dieting ended. Nutrition is complex, but the most potent addition to my made-over larder is accountability.

I count fat and calories most of the time because I know myself. Portion size is not my forte. I’m wary, though, of the backlash of deprivation, so I take time to create healthy, satisfying choices, and if it starts to feel diety, I splurge on something extra delicious.

I’ve never liked exercise. I am not overly fond of laundry or flossing, but I need underwear and teeth. So I try to make it fun. Had to have the bright purple yoga mat. I coach myself through the gym, remembering that with the currency of my time there, I buy a lovely body and a guilt-free mind.

I nurture myself in every nonfood way I can dream up. My old remedies have tenure, but I feel a slow and steady shift. Someday cornflowers will be more vibrant than corn bread; a well-done job, more scrumptious than a well-done steak.

I attend a wonderful support group that reminds me this is sustainable. I keep waiting to wake up surrounded by pumpkins and white mice, but don’t. Four summers now, I have taken my green shorts out on the first hot day and slipped them on like they were made for me.

More important, there is so much more life in my life. See, my weight problem was my hobby. Maintenance has forced me out to play. In a way I’m glad there was no magic. I may never have left the bread aisle.

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Vital Statistics

Name: Juliet Funt

Age: 31

Occupation: Student

Old Weight: 205

New Weight: 125

Height: 5 feet, 4 inches

Time to Get There: 21 months

Want to Share Your Success Story?

Losing weight is as individual as gaining weight. Do you have a story on how you got in shape and stayed there? If so, we’d like to hear from you with a 500-word essay listing what worked in terms of diet, exercise, encouragement and support as well as your emotional and physical changes.

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Send essay and photos to “How I Did It,” Health, Los Angeles Times, Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053, and include daytime and evening phone numbers. No phone calls, please. Submissions cannot be returned.

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