Bite Me

I was asked about dieting last night. About the money Americans have wasted on it, and I went overboard on my comments. Boy, does this subject strike a sour note of discord with me!

I refuse to spend another dime on diet crap. I realized a long time ago that one can lose weight without buying the latest QVC ab machine. God save us from yet another skinny diet expert’s book on how to lose weight. And please, no more low-carb, low-fat, low-cal cookbooks that confuse the hell out of us! (God, I love Paula Deen!)

There's only one way to really lose weight. Eat less, exercise more. Duh. Every fat person in America already knows that.

Barring any physical disorder (i.e. thyroid, which nobody can seem to regulate mine anymore) you can shrink without spending thousands of dollars.

I have blown enough $ over the years to probably pay cash for a couple nice cars. And then some. But never again. I've inhaled, digested, and slapped on my share of diet drinks, potions, lotions, and pills. (And I don't just mean over-the-counter. I remember the 70s when every diet doctor in town doled out black beauty’s like they were candy.)

I've worked out at Curves, Gold’s gym, with Oprah's trainer (memorized the book), spent lunch hours with that famous kickboxing guy on TV (wasn’t that famous, huh?) and graced the smelly, sweaty locker rooms --after busting my butt-- at numerous other local health clubs, including Bally's and the memorable Vic Tanny.

I have sweat to the oldies with Richard Simmons until my knees buckled under me, jumped in place in aerobic classes all while hoping not to pee my pants, laughed through yoga, nearly slipped a disk during Pilates, pulled muscles I didn’t know I had during weight training, lived through a near-death experience on a stair-stepper, and wasted tons of time rocking back and forth like a lunatic on Body-By-Jake. I’ve walked to the moon and back, and nearly killed myself on a treadmill--total burn out. Hurt my knees mountain climbing and have kept more food journals and exercise progress charts than you can shake a stick at.

I've followed Atkins to the letter, along with S. Beach, Hollywood, Dr. Phil., Optifast, Suzanne Summers, Susan Powter, Deal-A-Meal, Denise Austin ... you name it … their food regimens have been on my table. Studied E-diets suggestions, Tony Robbins lectures, and Fergie’s famous royal weight loss testimony, as well as hundreds of other “success” stores … took notes, lost a little, and put it all back on … and then some.

Watched all season of The Biggest Loser. Fat chance of that happening for me. You need to be healthy to begin with!

I've gone to Weight Watchers, Physicians Weight Loss, Nutri-system, and Overeaters Anonymous, just to name a few. I’ve lost it all right along with Oprah, except I didn’t have her money to hire the cook, trainers, and TV cameras so the world could watch me stay motivated.

Hell, I've been hypnotized. Didn't work. Been prayed for … had hands laid on to lose weight. True story. All while the faith healer weighed more than me. I remember seeing a spot of gravy (probably from his Sunday fried chicken dinner) on his tie.

Tried to smoke to lose weight. Hated it. Never resorted to mind-altering drugs or alcohol … although it crossed my mind a time or two. As an adult, I've been a size 6 and a size 26. I've been laughed at, made fun of, and also whistled at. All in the same year.

I've yo-yo'd from one extreme to the other for over 30 years. It's not fun. It messes with your head. My self-esteem has ballooned and then popped. More than once.

Both of my middle-aged sisters are a hundred sizes smaller. Never been what I call over weight. Not for a day. Have a tiny daughter, size 8 friends, and a wardrobe of clothes I swore I’d never wear again. But yet … here I am … wearing fat clothes again. Shorts? Not on your life. Bathing suit? Not for a million bucks. Frustrating, you ask? You don’t know that half of it. If I never see another pair of black pants in my lifetime, it’ll be too soon.

I’ve heard it all … “be happy with your body, no matter your weight.” Are you laughing? Me too. All those heavy women on TV claiming to love their overweight bodies … get real. Who do they think they’re fooling?

Do I want to be stick thin? Hell no. I honest-to-God don’t give a damn about being 125 pounds anymore. Even 135. It’s even more than “being healthy” to me.

It’s about feeling good in a pair of pants, or a nice suit. It’s about not hating having your picture taken. Not being self-conscious of your nakedness. It’s about growing old gracefully… and looking decent. Not bloated and obese. It’s about not being tired all the time. Not aching in my hips and knees.

I’ve heard my family say … “she put it all that weight back on … AGAIN! What’s wrong with her … why can’t she stop eating?”

What they don’t know is I’ve done that too. Stopped eating. Several times. Ever go on a fast? Ever feel so desperate to be loved that you deny yourself food?

Never again.

I REFUSE to spend another dime or any more of my time on something that doesn't work. Last time I lost weight, it was in 2000. I lost over 50 pounds. It was hell. It was not fun. I hated every minute of it. Did everything short of having my stomach stapled. (Except I did have liposuction and a tummy tuck in 2001 after losing 50 pounds.)

You still think fat people are lazy, don’t want to look nice in clothes, can’t control themselves? Fat people are some of the most productive people in the world. They have some of the strongest will power you could ever imagine. Their dreams and goals, I’m willing to bet, are far superior to anything you could make up.

Am I angry? Hell, yeah, I’m pissed off. More at myself than anything. I’ve seen how women especially, suffer unspeakably with pounds of unwanted fat.

At my age, I've done it all. Seen it all. I don't care to kill myself again loosing weight. I’m tired of being miserable while I lose, and while I try to keep it off. I want to enjoy my life. I want to taste wine and chocolate and cheese and breads. I can’t live on daily helpings of rice cakes anymore! I want to eat out and not think about calories. And I’m not talking about gorging … just simply eating … like normal people.

Trouble is, not caring will kill me too. I think about it this every day of my life. I’m letting you in on the “dark side of me.” This pain of aging, this trying to understand how some women eat twice as much as I do and weigh nothing … trying to understand why 1,200 calories a day adds weight on me … how come it takes six months of rigorous exercise for me to lose a few inches … all these questions have consumed me.

Wonder why some of us “fatties” are cranky? Think it’s all mind over matter?

Yeah? Bite me.

Let me throw the first stone (or boulder) at the hecklers, the people who say, “just do it,” the experts that squeeze out our last dime on the next breakthrough in diet crap. To quote Forrest Gump, "Sometimes, there aren’t enough rocks."

Feel free to quote me too.

Blessings on you and your fleshy behind.