Diets always fail.

By most accounts, of every 100 pounds lost in the United States by dieters, 90 are gained back within the next 12 months.

I can definitely vouch for that. In 1985, I lost 84 pounds. Four years later, I lost essentially the same 84 pounds. But earlier this year, I not only found myself carrying those same pounds around, I was close to 40 pounds heavier than I had ever been in my life.

I was the poster child for dieting failure, even though at one time or another I had probably lost 300 pounds without ever weighing as much as 300. But I was 60 years old, I weighed 280 pounds and my wife was probably<em> this close</em> to telling me to hit the road, Jack.

And my name isn't even Jack.

[caption id="attachment_579" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Under 200 for the first time in nine years"]<a href="http://mikerappaport.net/onevoice/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/Self-portraits-006.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-579" title="Self portraits 006" src="http://mikerappaport.net/onevoice/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/Self-portraits-006-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" /></a>[/caption]

If I knew one thing, it was that simply going on another diet was the last thing I needed to do. It hadn't been as easy in recent years to lose weight, but even if it was, every previous time I did it, I gained back every pound and then some.

What I really needed to do was change my life.

I had always viewed dieting in the same way as those people who look at their lives as journeys. If you're trying to get somewhere, then the simple act of getting there makes you let down. The previous times I lost weight, I viewed the process as one of deprivation. I believed that once I got there, I could return to normal and start eating again.

This time the goal was to change my life.

I wanted to accomplish two things. I wanted to get rid of the excess weight that was damaging my health and I wanted to establish some sort of exercise as a permanent part of my life.

In the short term, I had three goals:

1. Get my weight below 200 pounds, once and for all.

2. Lose enough inches around my waist that I could go from the 42-inch waist pants I had been wearing to the four pairs of Ralph Lauren Polo chinos I hadn't been able to wear since 1996, when my weight was as low as 186 pounds. Those chinos had a 33-inch waist.

3. Lose 100 pounds.

Today I achieved the first of those three goals. My bathroom scale this morning said I weighed 199 pounds; I celebrated by going out and walking eight miles.

I'm on the verge of the second goal as well. I tried on a pair of the pants and I was actually able to get them closed. I <em>could</em> wear them, although it will take another five pounds or so of weight loss for them to be comfortable.

I'm still 19 pounds -- maybe two months -- from the third goal, but reaching 180 won't be any sort of arrival. I still plan to walk every day and go to the YMCA two or three times a week to work out, and I still plan to eat no more than about 1,500 calories a day.

You see, I have learned my lesson.

As I wrote earlier, it isn't a diet. It's a lifestyle.

But I have to admit, 199 feels great.