Melodee has been blogging about the ups and downs of her weight since 2006. Do not send her cookies. Find her at DietNakedBlog.com.
Five years ago, I weighed 225 pounds. I’d meant to lose weight before a rare visit to the in-laws and a long-awaited trip to Disney World. But I didn’t. A few months later, I was still fat and mortified when I attended my grandma’s 100th
birthday party. All my thin relatives saw how fat I was because even a pair of black pants couldn’t hide my weight.
In 2006, I was hired to write a diet blog for a now-defunct website (ClubMom.com). I weighed 226 pounds. I ruled out counting calories and attending meetings. I’d been diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) and chose the recommended low-glycemic index diet. I changed my lifestyle–eliminating sugar and flour–and to my shock, my weight began to drop. After a few months, I added daily exercise. I felt great. My weight stabilized at 170 pounds and I was zipping up size 12 jeans. I had a walking buddy and got up every morning at 6 a.m. to walk a hilly 3.5 mile course.
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