I was overweight from an early age. Picture red hair, lots of freckles—and chubby. We didn’t have a lot of money so we didn’t waste food; besides there were starving children in Africa . My grandmothers were both wonderful cooks and I learned early that food was love. At the same time, my mother was slender and dieted to stay that way. She was the only one in the family who never had a baked potato. I believed that when I grew up, I wouldn’t get to have them anymore either.

When my parents began having trouble, I found security in eating. I had an athletic, skinny younger brother who could, and would, eat anything not nailed down so I made sure to get my share first. Soon after my parents divorced, a girl at my new dance school teased me about being fat so I quit taking lessons and gained more weight.

Through my teens I spent most of my free time just hanging around with my friends at the fast food joint or snacking in front of the T.V. I also discovered that food was great for relieving stress—at least for a little while. In the long run though, my favorite stress reliever became a major source of stress for me. I was caught in a vicious cycle.

Subtle and not-so-subtle comments and embarrassing shopping trips to find clothes made it clear I had to do something. The stage was set. For the next twenty-five years, I was on one diet after another. I had my favorite—the one that worked—as long as I stuck to it. I tried to be good but I always cheated. I discovered that exercise helped, but mostly it was how I paid penance when I was bad. I was ashamed of my body, ashamed of my eating, and ashamed of my cheating. I developed features of an eating disorder that helped me cope with my painful relationship with food. Without realizing it, I was caught in another vicious cycle.

Ironically, despite the fact that I couldn't stick to a diet forever, I had little trouble getting through college, medical school and Family Medicine residency, and eventually found myself in the position of advising my patients to lose weight. Most of them didn't seem to fare any better than I had. That was little consolation.

I felt discouraged and ashamed. How could I help someone do something I hadn’t been able to do myself? I knew it was time to try again but it didn't seem fair; my husband and children never dieted and they never struggled with their weight. In fact, they ate whatever they wanted, but they rarely ate more than they needed.

Did they just have a better metabolism? That was probably part of it. I knew mine was a mess after years of overeating and dieting. Did they have more willpower? No. I doubt they could follow a diet for very long either. But there was something else, something fundamentally different about the way they thought about food. In fact, they didn't really think about food at all—unless they were hungry.

Could the answer really be that obvious? Could I learn to listen to hunger again to guide my eating? My little voice said, "I really don't want to go on another diet. I’ll try it their way this time."

It was surprisingly simple, but it was not always easy. After years of trying to follow other people's rules about food, ignoring hunger, and eating for all sorts of other reasons, it was difficult to trust my body and my instincts. But I created a new way to manage my weight that really worked. It has also worked for thousands of others – and I believe it will work for you too.

Something else completely unexpected happened along the way. I discovered parts of myself I had lost, or didn’t even know existed. I found peace, health and wholeness. I also discovered a purpose for my life and a passion for helping others find wholeness too.

Eat Mindfully, Live Vibrantly!
Michelle May, M.D.
From Am I Hungry? What to Do When Diets Don't Work
http://www.amihungry.com/