When I was 18 years old, I would hop into a sleek black private car around 11 pm every night. I’d wave my cigarette magically in the air and ask to be taken to the Soho Grande. The driver would speed off into the dark, bustling night of New York City. Slumped down in the grey leather seat, I’d peer out over the side of the door, so just my eyes were visible through the window. Bright flashing lights everywhere, blurring the images of the young college student’s advertising of the normal after-hours college scene that I wasn’t a part of. The horn would honk, the brakes would slam and I would try not to puke as we swerved in and out of traffic. Another drag of the cigarette, ashes spilling on my bare leg. My cell phone would flash: 10:58 pm. The car would come to a screeching halt and out I’d step. One foot in front of the other. I’d make my way to room 603 and knock. Hike up my skirt, poof up my hair, pucker my lips– “Hi, I’m Michelle.”

I’m going with the rhythm of the people. You asked. I answered. Summer’s around the corner. Bathing suit season is almost upon us. The weather is improving. Comfort food is out. Healthy food is in.

But the truth is, now is usually the time we try and bust a move. Our snug jeans from the winter months of delicious pastas and warm cream soups, cannot be hidden anymore under a long or bulky sweater. The air is lighter. The sun is brighter. And it’s right about now, that we try to get re-motivated for the summer.

I gotta be honest. And don’t hate me. But I was born skinny. I can give you a list of flaws and faults that I’ve got from here to to China– bad skin, honker nose, only-child syndrome, and the list goes on and on. But I haven’t struggled with my weight for a day in my life. I put on 40 pounds with both pregnancies. It took me a year to take the weight off, but I did, both times, with little effort. I returned to my ever-steady, 5’8″ frame, 117 pounds. And the kicker? I eat like a horse.