The path to shedding 173 pounds begins with a single ounce.

I can’t pinpoint when my weight became a concern. By age ten, I was just over 100 pounds and felt proud to have crossed into triple digits. Yet, when I shared this with a friend, he bluntly remarked, “Wow, you’re fat.” I had always thought of myself as “husky,” but that moment made me realize that my parents' discussions about my size carried a different connotation.

I don’t possess many childhood photos, but at three years old, driving my battery-operated car—thanks to my uncle's job in the toy industry—I appeared quite normal. Even at six, I wouldn't classify myself as overweight. However, by ten, I tipped the scales at 103 pounds, and even under my Confirmation robe a couple of years later, my growing belly was evident.

Throughout my weight journey, I never identified as being fat. Despite the reality of my situation, I always felt like a normal-sized person trapped in an oversized body. Many who have experienced being overweight associate it with their identity, but that was never my case. I recognized my size in mirrors and felt the same self-disappointment that many heavy individuals endure, believing I had failed to manage my eating and activity levels as my doctor advised. Yet, being fat felt more like an external situation imposed on me rather than an integral part of my identity. It wasn't until I turned 60 that I fully comprehended the truth of this feeling.

During high school, I grew taller without significant weight gain. By graduation, I was considered average for my height in the US. Friends in Germany hinted—albeit subtly—that I was on the heavier side of normal. However, throughout college and graduate school, I wasn't perceived as overweight by American standards.

My weight began to rise in the early 1980s. I got married in 1983 at 24, weighing 208 pounds, which was manageable for my 6-foot frame. In the subsequent years of marriage, my weight gradually increased, though I can't recall the exact figures. In November 1989, when we welcomed our first child, both my ex-wife and I gained around 40 pounds during the pregnancy. While she quickly shed the weight post-birth, I did not.

I fluctuated in weight between the births of our two children, with a similar pattern of gaining and losing weight. Each time, I was frustrated as I exercised more and adhered to a low-fat diet, opting for skinless chicken and pretzels instead of chips. Despite my efforts, I continued to gain weight, exacerbated by the stress of a demanding job that deprived me of adequate sleep. In the early to mid-1990s, the impacts of stress and sleep deprivation were not well understood.

By 2001, when I started my own business, I had surpassed 300 pounds. During a five-week road trip around the US in 2002, I was pleased to have gained only 10 pounds despite frequent restaurant meals. My wife, however, was less impressed, likely because she hadn’t anticipated a husband who was now 50% heavier than when we married. Though I attempted to eat less and exercise, my size made everything more difficult.

Like many overweight individuals, I faced both overt and subtle biases. From disapproving looks while eating to the discomfort of fellow passengers on flights, I understood the perception that I lacked willpower, causing inconvenience to others.

There were numerous challenges of being overweight that those of average weight might not comprehend. Simple tasks like tying shoelaces became arduous, and I often needed to pause on stairways to catch my breath. Parking away from other cars was a necessity due to my inability to maneuver in tight spaces.

The spring of 2003 brought the passing of my father. Upon seeing a family friend before the funeral, he jokingly remarked that I was now twice the size I was during our last meeting.

That summer, I took my family to Europe for five weeks. At the Eiffel Tower, a large man asked if he could take a photo with me and then quipped that we must be the two heaviest people in France.

Experiencing the stares in cities like Paris and Rome was a constant reminder of my size, particularly when faced with the stylish yet restrictive aluminum café chairs. I often had to seek out armless versions since I couldn't fit into the regular ones, and attempting to sit in tiny folding chairs was out of the question.

By 2008, my weight reached around 340 pounds, and two years later, after a divorce, I peaked at 365 pounds.

Following the divorce, while working in my new apartment, I had left the TV on after watching Jeopardy! I vaguely recall Dr. Oz discussing weight loss and stating that individuals reaching 400 pounds often find it impossible to lose weight due to the pain associated with exercise. That realization struck a chord with me; I was closer to 400 than I was to 300.

This prompted me to accept that I needed assistance. After 30 years of trying to manage my weight alone, I finally recognized the accumulating evidence of my struggles. Shortly after Dr. Oz's commentary, I saw Charles Barkley promoting Weight Watchers and decided to join, specifically the program for men, which included an app with no meeting attendance required—a perfect fit for me.

Starting at 365 pounds and with a meal points system of 76 points plus 49 weekly bonus points, I was initially unaware of the point-based structure, but I was committed to making it work. Within a month, by simply altering my diet, I dropped to approximately 350 pounds. The rapid weight loss prompted an email from Weight Watchers expressing concern over my pace and advising me to utilize my bonus points, which I occasionally did.

Over the next few years, I lost around 95 pounds primarily through dietary adjustments. I realized that reducing my carbohydrate intake was key, as carbs were costly in terms of points. I could still enjoy a large steak as long as I skipped the garlic toast. My eating habits shifted significantly, often leaving me too full to consume all my allotted points.

In February 2015, I was diagnosed with cancer. After surgery a week later, I weighed 260 pounds (a loss of 105 pounds). However, the subsequent chemotherapy and radiation treatment on my neck made eating extremely challenging. My doctors wanted me to consume 3000 calories daily for recovery, but even with pain medication, I struggled to reach 800-900 calories. The Mayo Clinic team indicated I would have needed a feeding tube had I not had sufficient body fat.

Jokingly, I calculated that with Weight Watchers, I lost about 100 pounds at a cost of roughly $7.20 per pound. In contrast, my cancer treatment resulted in a much faster weight loss of 40 pounds over three months, but at a staggering cost of $6,700 per pound.

At 225 pounds, I experienced a newfound shock at my reflection. I could finally buy shoes with laces—an achievement I hadn’t realized was possible. I had lost 10 inches in waist circumference, and acquaintances from five years prior failed to recognize me.

I approached a 12-inch waist reduction before weight began to return. At that time, I lacked the knowledge I possess today and hadn’t consciously limited my carbohydrate intake, remaining in a low-fat mindset that typically results in higher carb consumption. By summer 2018, I was back to around 260 pounds, still 105 pounds lighter than my peak but having regained all the weight lost during my cancer treatment.

It was then that I met Silvia. Moving to Italy had long been a dream, and in the summer of 2018, I began making that dream a reality. I secured an apartment in Torino and planned to split my time between Italy and the US according to tourist visa regulations. I met Silvia on Facebook through my efforts to learn Italian, and we connected in person the day after my arrival in Torino after five weeks of video calls.

Silvia is remarkable. One day, while texting prior to meeting, I mentioned my quest for dual citizenship through my great-grandfather. Within minutes, she found and sent me a photo of his birth record, showcasing her determination and resourcefulness.

Upon hearing about my weight struggles, she began researching solutions. Her job exposed her to various information sources, and she learned of an Italian doctor with a new weight loss approach. Both of us enrolled in the program and started to see results. The plan was primarily based on regular grocery items, which made it accessible. Eventually, we transitioned to a different program called Losenjoy.com due to the Italian doctor’s demeanor. Both plans emphasized low-carb/high-fat (LCHF) eating, which proved effective. I have since adopted an LCHF diet, incorporating intermittent and extended fasting, and I now weigh 192 pounds— a weight I haven't seen since my graduate school days four decades ago.

Why had I struggled with my weight for so long, and why was the LCHF approach so successful in restoring my ideal size? The answer is multifaceted and intricate.

Numerous factors influence weight, including sleep quality, stress levels, and substance use. Surprisingly, the quantity of food consumed is not always the primary factor—what one eats has a more significant impact. Listening to your body's signals about fullness is essential.

Throughout the years, I lived under considerable stress and lacked sufficient sleep. Nonetheless, I followed the USDA's recommendations for a low-fat, high-carb diet.

I began gaining weight as an adult during graduate school while living on a mere $4,700 yearly in Chicago. With such limited finances, even with student loans, I couldn't afford to overeat. The USDA's guidance pushed a low-fat, high-carb diet during my college years when I had even less money. Even after securing my first job post-graduation, financial constraints persisted, preventing overeating.

How did I gain weight without excessive eating? Society often suggests that weight gain results from overeating or inadequate exercise. However, I certainly wasn't overeating. Parking in Chicago was a hassle, so we walked extensively, and I found solace in biking along the lakefront.

Research indicates that many people (estimates suggest 75% of Americans) cannot effectively manage a high-carb diet. This leads to insulin desensitization in cells, resulting in increased fat storage and difficulty accessing stored fat for energy.

To simplify, when we eat, some energy converts to fat, which gets stored in adipose tissue. Not all energy consumed is stored as fat; some converts to glucose for immediate use and some gets stored as glycogen. This combination allows people to space out meals.

Insulin plays a crucial role in managing energy. When we eat, insulin is released to regulate glucose, glycogen, and fat. As these energy sources deplete, insulin levels drop, enabling glucagon to direct fat usage for energy. However, for many, high carb diets cause insulin resistance, resulting in a cycle where cells require increasing amounts of insulin to utilize glucose.

This desensitization leads to elevated insulin levels long after eating, which disrupts the body's ability to access stored fat, creating cravings and exacerbating the issue. For individuals like me, a high-carb diet leads to fat storage without utilization, resulting in gradual weight gain over time.

If insulin resistance escalates, individuals may struggle to produce sufficient insulin, leading to Type 2 diabetes and potentially coronary heart disease—a significant risk for those consuming the recommended high-carb diet.

This isn't merely my theory; the science has been understood for decades. I wrote my book, BE LEAN! Revealing the Long-Lost Secrets of Weight Management, to share this knowledge with others who have struggled with weight despite following conventional advice. I intentionally priced it low to ensure accessibility.

While I'm not quite half the man I used to be, I often surprise myself at my reflection and receive admiring glances instead of the stares of disbelief I once encountered. Though I suspect my wife might not appreciate this aspect of my transformation!

Thank you for reading this article — I hope it provided you with valuable insights.

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