A couple of weekends ago, we ate breakfast at the Waffle House. I love that place. Service is great. Staff is friendly and hospitable. Food is simple and delicious. I am especially enamored with the restaurant’s butter. It’s always soft and creamy and easy to spread on the pecan waffle that’s become my “usual.” Fortunately for me, our server that day gave me a couple of extra packets of my delicious friend. I used two of the three containers on my waffle, but had a full packet left. Much to the chagrin of my husband and son, I put the remaining treasure in my purse. I quickly defended my apparent lunacy. “You know how much I love this stuff, don’t you? It wouldn’t be right to waste it. Never mind the people who are watching me treat this butter like a pallet of gold. They don’t know what they are missing. I feel sorry for them.”
I completely forgot about the butter for a couple of days until I was dining out with a couple of girlfriends. I recall reaching for my wallet when the butter fell out of my purse. I explained my good fortune to my gal pals, but instead of nodding in agreement, they just laughed. I’m not sure if they were laughing at me or with me. Hmmm. Anyway, when I returned home from dinner I put the butter in the refrigerator. Fast-forward to a few days later when I went to retrieve the butter packet from our refrigerator only to discover it was no longer there. I asked my husband, Jeff, about it and he coldly answered, “I probably threw it away.” Threw it away? Threw it away? How could you throw it away? I could fill the heat rising up my neck and into my face as my anger and disbelief grew. No apology was going to fix this. My butter was gone. Trashed. Destroyed. Ruined.
After a few minutes of fuming and pacing, I realized how ridiculous it would be to come to blows over a pat of butter.
Ridiculous, but not necessarily surprising. You see, I’ve always had a weird relationship with food. Always.
This weird relationship has led to a lifelong struggle with my weight. And my weight appears to be winning.
Exhibit A: I was born with a tooth. So from day one I was ready for more than 6 ounces of formula. I was primed for something I could really sink my tooth into – which brings me to Exhibit B.
Exhibit B: My parents say that I seemed to have an insatiable appetite. I cried incessantly. I was inconsolable. They couldn’t figure it out. So they went to the expert. They asked my pediatrician. He determined that I wasn’t getting enough to eat. He instructed them to put ground up meat in a bottle for me. (I’m not sure if that image makes me queasy or want to make a Taco Bell run.)
Exhibit C: See the sentence in the parentheses in Exhibit B. (Sick, right?)
Exhibit D: I currently weight 230 pounds. I visited the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention website inserted my numbers into their BMI calculator widget. The verdict was sobering. “Your BMI is 30.3, indicating your weight is in the Obese category for adults of your height.”
Exhibit E: I am the first-born female in my family. According to a recent study, that means I am 40 percent more likely than my younger siblings to be obese. “We can’t do anything about our birth order, but the research could be considered a good reminder for first-borns to be scrupulous about diet and exercise,” says Wayne Cutfield, co-author of the study, which was published in The Journal of Epidemiology & Community Health.
So I guess I’m screwed. Or, maybe my scale is screwed. I sometimes imagine it yelling at me. “Get oooooooff!” “Ouch!” “I can’t breathe!”
OK, so she’s not screwed, you’re thinking to yourself. She can fix this. She just needs to lose some weight. I absolutely agree with you. I need to put down the Nutty Bars and Double Stuf Oreos. I need to bypass the QuikTrip and its 5 cent Tootsie Roll bin. I need to exercise more and spend less time lying around watching Netflix and Law and Order reruns.
But here’s the deal – the problem isn’t my inability to lose weight. Oh, I can drop the pounds like nobody’s business. I’ve probably lost 100s of pounds over my professional dieting career. I’ve done them all. I’ve done the cabbage soup diet. I’ve done the Whole 30. Atkins. South Beach. 17 Day. Weight Watchers. I’ve achieved Weight Watchers’ lifetime member status at least twice. I did some weird hot dog and banana diet. I’ve prayed, meditated, screamed. No matter the diet, eating plan or program, the end result has always been the same. I gain the weight back and then some. I lose that 50 and raise you 75 pounds.
For awhile I didn’t get it. I mean, every time I would lose weight, I would promise myself I would never gain the weight again. I would slide under 200 pounds and pinky swear I would never see 200 again. I would hit 189 and wave adios to 190. And on and on and on. But here’s the thing, once I hit that magic goal weight – I could never maintain it. Little by little, bite by bite, the pounds would creep back on.
I consoled myself with a cupcake with buttercream frosting and by recalling a data point I’d read sometime, somewhere that said 95 percent of people who lose weight regain it – and sometimes more – within a few months or a few years. 95 percent. Geez, at least I was in good company, right? Cheers to the 95 percent!
For whatever reason, I recently researched the validity of the 95 percent and found a New York Times article spoke to this statistic “that has been quoted widely over the last four decades, in Congressional hearings, diet books, research papers and seminars.” The article asserted, this statistic “is the reason so many people approach dieting with a sense of hopelessness.” Hopelessness. Check.
The article went on to say, however, that “no one has any idea how many people can lose weight and keep it off” because that 95 percent figure is based on a 1959 clinical study of only 100 people.
Unfortunately for me and other long-term dieters, the physicians and researchers interviewed for the article who had new information about dieting success said there is no “magic-bullet solution” for weight loss. Instead, the experts maintained, successful dieters simply eat less and healthier food and exercise regularly. In other words, they work at it.
In addition, the article shared, two researchers, studying long-term dieters, found that about half the people who maintained a substantial weight loss for more than a year had done it on their own. On. Their. Own. No plan. No program. No lists. No points. These folks exercised, chose to eat foods based on their nutritional value and calories and as a result they lost weight.
The stories I read about people who managed their own journeys to healthier eating and living detailed the exact points in time they decided to cut the crap. None of these aha moments were particularly compelling or dramatic. They will not be the subject of a Lifetime movie, nor will they likely grace the pages of that special weight-loss edition of People magazine. Nevertheless, the bottom line is quite powerful. And here it is, the bottom line. Are you ready? These formerly overweight folks chose health over junk. An apple over high blood pressure and type 2 diabetes. Daily exercise over huffing and puffing while walking up a flight of stairs. A lower BMI over Waffle House butter.
It wasn’t easy for them and it won’t be easy for me as I embark on my own journey to improved health. It’s got to be better though – better than the feeling of not being able to fit into 75 percent of your wardrobe. Better than the remorse that follows binge-eating chips and guacamole. Better than failing your 14-year-old son by settling for something less than you deserve, by giving up or by not doing the work necessary to meet a goal. Better than starting a ridiculous fight with my husband over a pat of butter.
I’d love to hear from you! What is something you would like to change or what is a goal you’d like to set for yourself? How will you get there?
Life After Ted 