I’d rather enjoy life!

My decision to be fat was mainly based on two assumptions: one, being fat is not all that unhealthy, and two, being thin (for me) would mean massive restrictions, sacrifices, and self-denial.

This is an example of a typical day’s consumption for me — around 1200 kcal. It begins with a large breakfast of four waffles, two large main meals, and two snacks between meals. I can’t pretend that this nutrition plan has left me hungry or with feelings of self-denial. The internet is full of recipes for low-calorie meals, and even traditional dishes can often be altered to reduce their calories without making them any less tasty.

My salad, for example, which contained 1500 kcal, is now only 200 to 500 kcal, depending on how I decide to have it. The changes I made weren’t that huge. I replaced the fatty salmon with chicken or turkey, the ball of mozzarella with half a ball of a much less calorie-laden, low-fat mozzarella, and the lettuce, tomato, and bell pepper remain unchanged. Instead of using three tablespoons of oil in the dressing, I now make it with water and a little sweetener. Those changes have hardly altered the taste — I still enjoy my salad just as much, even though it now contributes 1000 kcal less, easily, to my daily intake.

It’s definitely worth seeking out these versions of dishes as well as trying out new meals. For my part, I had a lot of fun trying out new recipes. I often find that I enjoy my new meals more than I used to enjoy my thoughtless eating. Since becoming conscious of the calories I ‘spend’ on it, I have come to appreciate food more, and I experience the enjoyment more consciously.

I have now reached my target weight, and I do a lot of exercise. And, seeing as my metabolism hasn’t been ‘ruined’ by losing weight, I can now consume about 2500 to 3000 kcal a day. That’s about the same as when I weighed 150 kg. One positive side-effect of my losing weight is the fact that exercise, which I used to find so torturous, is now enjoyable.

On balance, that means that I now have more enjoyment in my life, rather than less. I look forward to every hour I spend on my elliptical trainer watching my favourite TV series, to every run I go on, every bike ride with my husband, or every gym date with a friend for weight training. For the first time in my life, I sometimes find myself reviewing the day and realising that I haven’t eaten enough and could actually eat a bag of crisps or a bar of chocolate. It took over a year to reach this point, and it was a year in which sacrifice was the rule. But it wasn’t what I had feared: I didn’t have to choose between a happy life full of enjoyment and a skinny life full of sacrifices.

The fact that so many people equate being thin with not enjoying life is, I think, a great problem. Just like the clichés about weak-willed and lazy fat people, it suggests that normal body weight is something that can only be achieved and maintained through permanent self-discipline and a joyless lifestyle.

I now think that the opposite is true. Even though I had convinced myself that I was okay with my weight, food was always connected with a feeling of guilt for me. Whenever I ate chocolate or ordered a pizza, I was always aware that I shouldn’t really be doing it. And my enjoyment was coloured by that niggling guilty conscience in the back of my mind. Paradoxically, the opposite is now the case. Counting calories doesn’t make me feel more guilty, but less. I can consciously choose to eat a box of chocolates if I feel like it and enjoy it without regret because I know that it fits into my daily plan.

The funny thing is, I now often experience the other side of what I thought for many years. If I’m going out for a meal, for example, I plan things so that I can eat as much as I want. And when people see me going back to the buffet to pile up my plate with seconds, I sometimes get comments like ‘You’re so lucky, you can eat whatever you want!’ People who don’t know me from before assume I’m just blessed with a fast metabolism, and those who did know me are usually amazed that I still ‘eat normally’.

It’s an interesting experience to be perceived as a ‘naturally thin person’ or as someone ‘blessed with a fast metabolism’, after all those overweight years. It’s something I used to yearn for — now I want to tell them, ‘No! That’s not true. My metabolism isn’t special, and it has nothing to do with luck!’