Let me just start by saying: I’ve been on a diet my entire life. No, really—my entire life. If there’s a diet out there, chances are I’ve tried it. Low-carb, low-fat, meal replacements, behavior modification, grapefruit before every meal… you name it. And despite my best efforts, the scale seemed to have its own agenda.

By the time I hit my late 50s and early 60s, things had gotten completely out of hand. My weight crept up, and then up some more, until the number staring back at me was 306 pounds. I’ll never forget how I felt. Horrified? Yes. Depressed? Absolutely. Who the hell wants to be 306 pounds? I wasn’t oblivious—I knew what I looked like. Even though my weight was fairly evenly distributed, it was my long legs and midsection carrying the brunt of the load. I felt like I was dragging myself through life, and mentally, I was drowning.

Eventually, I did something that scared me: I asked for help. I went to my doctor, desperate for an answer, a solution, something. That day changed my life.

She prescribed Bupropion, an antidepressant that, surprisingly, also works well for weight loss and even helps smokers curb their cravings. And let me tell you—it helped me. My nightly fridge raids started to slow down. The snack attacks that usually came once Ken went to bed? They began to fade. I reduced my carb intake, I cut back on drinking, and I started to feel like I was getting somewhere. Slowly but surely, I was dropping weight.

I went to see my doctor every month. She became my accountability partner, my motivator, my cheerleader. And you know what? After about a year and a half, I was down to 192 pounds. Can you believe it? I could barely believe it myself. I hadn’t seen that number since my younger days. I felt proud, empowered, and like I was finally turning the corner.

But as with most things in life, there was a catch.

I started experiencing dry mouth. At first, I thought it was the lingering effects of a surgery I had. But as time went on, it became clear the Bupropion was the culprit. A side effect, and not a pleasant one. I kept candy or mint in my mouth all the time. Chapstick for my dry lips kept me on my toes as well. It was frustrating—how can something that helped me so much suddenly become a problem? I eventually, I stopped taking it. And guess what? I began to gain the weight back again.

I wish I could say I found a perfect balance, but the truth is, I’m still figuring it out. Old habits like nighttime eating don’t just disappear. They linger in the shadows, waiting for a stressful day or a moment of weakness. I haven’t returned to 306, but I haven’t stayed at 192 either. Now, I’m 220 pounds. I hate it! It’s a daily effort, and some days are better than others.

The question remains: why can’t I lose the weight—for good?

Maybe it’s because food has always been more than fuel. It’s comfort. It’s distraction. It’s reward. It’s the friend who never judges. And when you’ve had that friend for decades, letting go feels impossible.

But I’m not giving up. Because even if I never become “thin,” I deserve to be healthy, happy, and kind to myself.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s the weight I really need to lose.

What about you? Is there a habit you’d like to break? Read Atomic Habits, by James Clear. I’ve been reading it. It helps, but I still can’t get a tight grasp on my weight loss.

Eydie