Kicking ass, dropping weight: how I lost 50 pounds through self-defense.

Like all my major life changes, my transformation began with lesbian relationship drama. My girlfriend went on vacation, remained incommunicado for a week, then phoned during a layover at a Midwestern airport and unceremoniously dumped me. The injustice was palpable-how dare she treat me so shabbily after all we'd been through!

I cursed her name as I walked my rottweiler around Brooklyn, miles passing as I vowed revenge. After a few weeks, my anger-fueled marches had burned 10 pounds. Although by lesbian standards I wasn't even close to huge, I was definitely overweight. Years of nesting with my girlfriend, watching movies, and downing pints of Chunky Monkey had ballooned me to a size 17.

But when I realized my thighs didn't chirp when I wore corduroy, my plan came lucidly into focus. Any gay man will tell you that the best revenge is looking fabulous. I'd have my ex kicking herself for leaving me.

In 2000, I'd joined a Hoteikan dojo, taking the occasional kickboxing class, gaining flexibility but not losing weight. I'd slacked off, but I began attending classes again. When my schedule interfered with kickboxing, my classmate Eileen convinced me to join karate.

I was reluctant to try what I saw. It seemed like a pissing contest for teenage boys with a Jackie Chan complex. Still, I needed to work out, if just to jettison stress. I started karate and--apart from occasional confusion over Japanese commands--found I was actually pretty good. My classmates surprised me with a new karate gi. I love drag, and dressing up in those white pajamas sealed the deal.

I threw myself into it, channeling my rage into kumite, or sparring. My mind was quiet, almost meditative, when I did kata, a series of moves for defeating an invisible opponent. I learned how to strike, how to kick, and how to block. With every new defense I realized how little I knew. It made me humble.

It also made me stop plotting revenge. When my ex moved, I helped her paint. I found her paint-splattered Calvin Kleins among my painting clothes and began wearing them. They were tight but fit better than my fatty pants, by now several sizes too big.

Soon, those Calvins were my fatty pants. "You're shrinking away," my ex said. I just smiled.

Each month took with it five more pounds of my adipose armor. The punches and blocks toned my shoulders and arms. Holding deep karate stances made my legs and calves strong. My ass morphed into two perfectly round orbs strong enough to crack walnuts. After a year I had lost nearly 50 pounds. Eight months later I'd kept it off. And although I'm less than anxious to get into another long-term relationship, all this exercise has kept my sheets as hot as my libido.

For me, fighting is the best exercise. It relieves stress and boosts my endorphin levels, making me naturally happy. Learning new techniques keeps my mind busy, turning working out into play. Losing weight took a lot of strain off my body. It's wonderful that lesbians are less body-obsessed than the mainstream population, but we still need to take care of ourselves.

"Lesbians do smoke more, use alcohol at higher rates than heterosexual women ... and tend to have higher weight. These things put us at risk for poor health outcomes, including cancer but also heart disease," says Amari S. Pearson-Fields, deputy director of the Mautner Project, a national lesbian health organization.

Learning how to defend myself also made me less willing to be a victim. Although Brooklyn is a relatively safe place to live, there are people who want to harm you because you're different. (When it comes to muggers, my sensei Tom Carrano advised, "Money and jewelry are replaceable; your life is much more valuable than any possession.")

It's great to have fighting skills, but it's even better if you never have to use them in the street. Sensei Carrano teaches how to avoid or deflect violence using verbal skills. These strategies are also stressed at Brooklyn's Center for Anti-Violence Education, a dojo geared toward women that specifically reaches out to communities affected by violence, including lesbians and transgender people. "Built into the sport are ways to protect yourself and build awareness of your environment," says cofounder Annie Ellman. "But violence is a societal issue, and it takes a community to work against."

Whether you live in a big city or a small town in America's heartland, you will find a dojo nearby. Parents send their kids to karate to increase their concentration and to protect them from bullies. It works the same for adults. Especially for lesbians, karate can be a tough, sexy, and empowering way to get and stay in shape.

McCroy writes for numerous publications, including the New York Blade and Go NYC magazine.