How to Lose Weight and Keep It Off: Three Women Share What Finally Worked

“How am I ever going to lose weight? It feels impossible.” “Dieting is suffocating. I don’t want to live like that.” “Food comforts me. I enjoy eating whatever I want.” “Yes, I’ve gained weight, and yes, it bothers me. But constantly watching what I eat feels like more than I can handle.”

For many women, the struggle with weight begins long before anything changes on the scale. It begins in the mind, in the exhausting cycle of wanting to change while dreading what change might require. The three women featured here know that cycle intimately. Each reached a point when she realized that another temporary diet would not be enough. What she needed was something deeper: a change in habits, in thinking, and ultimately in her relationship with food.

This is not an endorsement of any particular weight loss program. These women chose different approaches, and their experiences are personal. What they share is the decision to stop looking for a quick fix and begin building a way of life they could actually sustain. They spoke candidly about emotional eating, setbacks, sugar cravings, family dynamics, self-discipline, and the slow process of learning that one imperfect choice does not have to become an imperfect day. Most surprising of all, the lifestyle they once feared would feel restrictive eventually came to feel, in very different ways, like freedom.

Hadassah: One Step, and Then Another

Hadassah Amar-Vaknin did not like the way she looked or the way her clothes fit, but what troubled her most was the feeling that food had acquired too much power over her life. “I felt that all my eating was emotional,” she says. “It seemed as though I spent the entire day with the sense that food was managing me.”

For years, she assumed there was no realistic alternative. Then she watched a friend make a successful change and, for the first time, allowed herself to imagine that she might be able to do the same. She joined a guided weight loss program that appealed to her precisely because it did not require extreme restrictions or supplements. Hadassah did not want to divide food into rigid categories of permitted and forbidden. “I believe that if Hashem created a certain food, there is no reason to abstain from it entirely,” she says, “provided, of course, that it is eaten in the right measure.”

Even so, she was frightened. “I didn’t want to feel limited. I was afraid they were going to tell me what to do. The thought that kept me going was very simple: I’m taking one step. I don’t know what will happen afterward. Every time, I looked only at the next step.” That approach became the foundation of the entire process.

Over time, Hadassah began developing an awareness she had never cultivated before. Instead of counting calories or obsessively measuring portions, she started paying attention to physical cues. “I learned to notice when my stomach felt comfortable and when it started feeling a little too heavy, as though my body was telling me I had crossed the line. It was a major discovery. I realized my body needed less food than I thought.”

She did not stop cooking, nor did she stop enjoying food. Cooking remained one of the ways she expressed affection. What changed was the way she prepared certain dishes. She found small adjustments that made her meals lighter without turning the family kitchen into a diet laboratory. “I didn’t want to drive my family crazy,” she says with a smile. “My children are not part of my eating plan. It doesn’t interest them.”

The physical change, however, was frustratingly slow. Each week, Hadassah lost only a few hundred grams. At first, no one noticed. She had quietly expected some outside encouragement, some sign that her effort was visible, and when none came, she found herself disappointed. Only after she had lost about four kilograms did people begin commenting. “The compliments gave me new strength,” she says. “I understood that it was slow, but it was happening.”

Her relationship with sweets changed too. Hadassah found that, for her, processed sugar and refined carbohydrates tended to trigger the desire for more. A year and a half into the process, she says she often finds it easier to avoid them than to eat “just a little,” because that little amount can awaken a much larger appetite.

That does not mean she never slips. “If I start tasting here and there, it can become a slippery slope,” she admits. “There are times when I’m less attentive to my body and I fall. But I learned not to continue the fall.”

That distinction changed everything. One piece of chocolate no longer justifies finishing the package. One meal that does not go according to plan no longer means the rest of the day is lost. “I can stop right there,” she says. “I still have a choice. If I didn’t eat the way I wanted to at one meal, I can make a different choice at the next.”

Hadassah also learned that many difficult moments can be prevented before they begin. She prepares larger quantities of food so there is always something suitable waiting in the refrigerator. She tries not to allow herself to reach the point of extreme hunger. And sometimes, when exhaustion convinces her she needs food, she first sits down with a cup of tea. “There are moments when the body is actually thirsty, not hungry,” she says.

She has also not eliminated the foods that carry emotion and memory. At her parents’ home, where elaborate cakes are plentiful, she chooses the one she truly wants. “I sit down like a queen, eat it, and enjoy it,” she says. “I don’t even call it food. I call it nostalgia.” The difference is that she chooses it deliberately, enjoys a measured amount, and then moves on.

When women ask her for the secret, Hadassah disappoints anyone hoping for a trick. “There is no magic solution. It doesn’t happen in a day. It takes effort. Magic solutions help you lose quickly, and then you regain quickly. Working on yourself is the work of a lifetime. It takes time, but the results are worth it.”

image: Shutterstock

Sandrine: Learning Instead of Dieting

By the age of 43, Sandrine weighed close to 90 kilograms. Her frustration was no longer only about appearance. “I was exhausted,” she says. “It was difficult for me to function. It was difficult to move.”

She had tried enough diets to know that she did not want another short-term campaign followed by the same disappointment. “I wanted a fundamental lifestyle change, something that would stay with me. I wanted to do it calmly and feel good throughout the process. I did not want it to feel like punishment.” She was also realistic about herself. If healthy eating became too complicated, she knew she would eventually abandon it. “I needed something that required relatively little effort,” she says. “If it demanded too much from me, I wouldn’t change my habits.”

This time, Sandrine also decided not to go it alone. “After so many attempts, I understood that I needed guidance, and I needed emotional support when things became difficult.” She compares nutritional guidance to consulting any other professional. Just as a person seeks financial expertise before taking out a mortgage, she reasons, there is nothing unusual about seeking expertise when trying to change years of eating habits. “The internet is full of recipes,” she says. “That wasn’t the missing piece. For me, the guidance and support were essential.”

The most important lesson she learned was that setbacks did not have to become disasters. “Our minds tend to work in extremes,” Sandrine says. “We think, ‘Well, I ate it, so everything is ruined.’ But this is a process. It isn’t one isolated moment.”

She compares it to marriage. “You don’t get divorced after one argument. You continue building despite the difficulties.”

One day, after several exhausting hours, she arrived home ravenous. Her daughter had made French fries, and Sandrine ate some. In the past, that might have led to guilt and then to more eating. Instead, she acknowledged what had happened and moved on. “I told myself, ‘Now we continue.’”

Later that evening, she attended a women’s event. Surrounded by food, she realized she did not actually want anything. “I felt that eating would simply be unnecessary. And the feeling was wonderful. It was a feeling of power, of knowing that I was not being dragged along by temptation.”

At a recent family celebration, she did something similar. Rather than sampling everything on the buffet, she chose a few foods she genuinely loved and ate them with pleasure. By the time dessert arrived, she felt satisfied. “I didn’t feel deprived,” she says. “I felt good inside.”

Sandrine is the first to admit that advance planning does not come naturally to her. Instead of trying to become someone she is not, she built a system around simplicity. “During busy times, I eat very simple food. A small pita, an egg, quickly cut vegetables. The main thing is knowing what my day will look like so I can prepare for it.”

She has taken the same measured approach with her teenage children. Rather than demanding that the entire household immediately adopt her new habits, she chose to model them. “I add healthier foods to the table and lead by example,” she says. “My children appreciate the process I’ve gone through, and they’re happy for me.”

image: Shutterstock

Hila: Changing the Story Around Food

Hila Ben Amram, a mother of five daughters who now mentors women in weight loss, began dieting while she was still a teenager. “There were endless ups and downs,” she says. “Meal plans, groups, diets, everything.”

She wanted to lose 25 kilograms, yet despite years of effort, she would lose only a small amount before gaining it back, often with additional weight. Eventually, she became a fitness trainer, partly in the hope that exercise would finally solve the problem. It didn’t.

“I could exercise ten times a day with clients and the weight would still stay the same. I was deeply frustrated. I wasn’t willing to continue living like that.”

The shift began when Hila started studying the subject rather than simply trying another diet. She came to believe that sugar played a significant role in her own cycle of cravings and emotional eating. More importantly, she began examining the stories she had attached to it. Sugar meant comfort. Celebration. Reward. Relief.

Five years ago, after Purim, her family had a storage room full of sweets. “I felt as though they were constantly calling me,” she recalls. One evening, she and her husband walked into the storage room, packed the candy into garbage bags, and threw it all away.

For Hila, the transition was physically and emotionally difficult. She recalls headaches, irritability, weakness, and fatigue during the first month, but says she was determined not to return to her old pattern.

And yet, eliminating sweets was only the surface of the change. What mattered more was understanding why she had wanted them so badly. “I suddenly realized how many beliefs I had built around sugar,” she says. “In my mind, every exam required a package of chocolate. After every argument with my husband, I needed cake. I would see advertisements of thin women eating ice cream, and somewhere in my mind beauty had become connected to that ice cream.”

When she looked honestly at her experience, she realized food had never solved the problems she was using it to escape. “It disconnected me from the difficulty for a moment, but the difficulty remained. And afterward, I was left mentally weaker and carrying more weight.”

Hila began asking herself a different question: What did she actually want her life to feel like? “I didn’t want to be tired anymore. I wanted to be one of those people who get out of bed at five in the morning full of energy. I wanted my pleasure to come from meaning, from using my strengths, from living fully.”

She realized she could continue using food to escape difficult emotions, or she could begin confronting those emotions and growing through them. “That was the beginning of a journey in which I examined all those beliefs around eating and replaced them with new, healthier ones. For me, that was the only way real change could become enjoyable.”

image: Shutterstock

When Healthy Food Becomes Part of Family Life

Once Hila changed the way she thought about food, she began looking for ways to make healthier eating appealing rather than austere. Even chopping salad became a family event.

“I put the vegetables on the table, turn on music, and my daughters run over to help. While they’re cutting everything, they’re already eating some of the vegetables before they even reach the bowl.” The most sought-after job is choosing the song. “Once one daughter gets to choose, the others join in very quickly. Nobody wants to miss her turn.”

Hila does not like the language of “staying on a diet” or even “maintaining” healthy eating. “To me, the word ‘maintaining’ creates a feeling of restriction, as though I’m giving something up. But I experience it as the opposite.”

For years, she says, the real prison was constantly thinking about what she was allowed to eat while longing for everything she had labeled forbidden. “Once I cut through that distorted way of thinking and made the process enjoyable, I finally succeeded. Today I enjoy my food because it nourishes me and makes me feel good. I don’t follow rigid menus. I listen to my body and use common sense. For me, that is freedom.”

Her daughters were still young when the family removed sweets from the house. The oldest was six. At first, they searched for the missing candy and complained, but Hila says they adjusted quickly once they understood that their parents’ decision was firm.

Today, when the girls receive candy elsewhere, the family has developed alternatives. The older children can exchange it for money that they save toward outings or other goals, while the younger ones receive inexpensive prizes. Hila sees it not as deprivation, but as teaching them to find pleasure elsewhere.

She believes change can influence a family even when the children are older. One woman she mentored had a son in yeshiva who lived largely on snacks and sweets and fiercely resisted his mother’s new approach. But eventually, when the unhealthy options disappeared from home, he began eating the meals she prepared. Another woman’s weight loss inspired several relatives to change their habits as well. “The change is in the mind,” Hila says. “Once we truly make it, the people around us often begin following.”

The Change That Has Nothing to Do With the Scale

The most significant change Hila describes is not nutritional at all. Over time, she has taught herself to respond differently when life becomes difficult.

“I’ve learned to step outside the situation for a moment and look at it from above. Instead of sinking into the pain, I ask what challenge is in front of me. Instead of escaping, I try to deal with it. Today, difficulty feels like an opportunity to rise to another level. I no longer experience myself as weak in the face of it. I feel stronger.”

For Hila, that is the point at which the struggle with food became something larger. She no longer wanted food to function as anesthesia, consolation, or escape. She compares the body to something most people instinctively protect: a car. If you knew that cheaper fuel was diluted and could damage your vehicle, she says, you would not use it simply because it was available. Her question is why we sometimes find it harder to extend that same care to ourselves.

When asked, half jokingly, whether the natural conclusion is that candy companies should begin selling hummus and lentils, Hila answers with a smile: “Then we’ll start consuming the products of the best and most honest provider of all: God.”