Chicken Soup for the Dieter's Soul (18 page)

After three months, when the second twenty pounds came off, my husband complimented me. Lucky for me the reunion was not for eight more months, because I still had sixty pounds to go. I plugged on and joined an aerobic and kickboxing class that met three nights a week. I’d stick a piece of gum in my mouth, warm up, follow the instructor and enjoy the cooldown.

It helped erase the flab and toned my body. Every day, I scribbled a vow not to cheat. Determined, I continued to munch on veggies and fruits. Along the way, I made several new friends at the class who gave me lots of nutritional advice and weight-loss hints. We established a natural camaraderie and cheered each other on. Now, not only had I lost fifty-five pounds, I had friends, which helped me restore my own personal worth.

Invigorated, I chose new tactics and began lifting weights to sculpt my muscles on my arms and legs. I found I was regaining my waistline, so I did crunches, sit-ups and even tried belly dancing on the advice of my friends. I guess I inspired my husband; he started jogging before work each morning and dropped fifteen pounds.

Ten months passed and I finally weighed in at 137 pounds. I had lost 100 pounds and met my goal! I had revitalized my inner self all because of that fateful reunion invitation. It was a wake-up call in disguise, a very healthy one. I went from a size 18 to a size 10, half my size, and I still had one month to go. That next month I weighed in at 130 pounds. I had donated all my clothes to the spouse abuse center as I decreased in size, replacing them with less expensive ones.

“Watch out stores, here I come to shop for that perfect reunion wardrobe,” I said, proudly.

The reunion was a Hawaiian luau theme, so I shopped for a flowery evening gown, a new bathing suit, and a casual pantsuit and capri set. Tears slid down my cheeks as I tried on a one-piece bathing suit in a wild turquoise and lemon color, not the usual black one with the long attached skirt.

When we flew to the reunion my husband was beaming as much as I. We held hands and I felt like it was a second honeymoon as we stepped proudly into the ballroom.

“Wow, you haven’t changed a bit,” said Jennifer, one of the three girls I use to hang with in high school. I was so flattered and proud inside.

“No, she hasn’t, she keeps getting better all the time,” said my husband, smiling. I winked at him and silently thanked him for keeping my secret.

Suzanne Baginskie

Broiled Zucchini and Feta Boats

M
AKES
6
SERVINGS
E
ACH SERVING:
1.5
GRAMS SATURATED FAT

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic

3 zucchini, halved lengthwise

salt, to taste

white pepper, to taste

¼ cup low-fat feta cheese

Heat broiler. Heat olive oil in a large nonstick, ovenproof skillet (with ovenproof handle) set over medium-low heat. Add garlic and sauté for 15 seconds, or until lightly golden (be careful not to burn the garlic). Arrange zucchini halves cut side down in skillet; season with salt and white pepper to taste. Increase heat to medium and cook zucchini for 5–6 minutes, or until just carmelized (again, be careful not to let the zucchini or garlic burn).

Turn the zucchini over and season lightly with salt and white pepper; cook an additional 1–2 minutes. Arrange feta cheese on the sides of zucchini and then transfer to the broiler; broil for 2–3 minutes. Serve at once.

Reprinted from
Fitter, Firmer, Faster.
©2006 Andrew Larson,
M.D., Ivy Ingram Larson. Health Communications, Inc.

The Secret

T
ruth, like surgery, may hurt, but it cures.

Han Suyin

For years I searched for “The Secret” to weight loss. If I found “The Secret,” then I could pass it on to my daughter and share it with the world. She and I have lost a little more than fifty pounds each. Together we’ve lost the equivalent of one of those little Olympic gymnasts we saw on TV. We found “The Secret.”

My daughter is a wonderful example of the correct way to lose weight. She looked in the mirror one day and said to herself, “I like who I’ve become and what I’ve done with my life. I don’t like the way I look; I think I’ll do something about it.” She found what suited her: help on the Internet. The online source for weight-loss support helped her to establish guidelines for food intake and exercise and also offered a support group for tips and advice. She stayed within the calorie, carb and fat counts outlined for her. She joined a gym and faithfully exercised three to five times a week. From April to October she steadily lost weight, going from a size 18W to a 10 Misses. Her confidence and self-esteem zoomed through the roof.

I started last fall on what I had hoped would be my final effort to lose weight. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very successful. Health problems and medications, especially the amount of insulin I was taking for diabetes, hindered my success. I finally started researching weight-loss surgery. I found a lot of information on the Internet, talked to people I knew who had had the surgery and started telling others what I was considering. People knew people who had had the surgery. I learned that weight-loss surgery is not a magic bullet but is another tool to use in a comprehensive weight-loss program. Three months ago, I decided to go for it.

I am fifty-six years old and have had problems with compulsive overeating all my adult life. My struggles with weight loss started at age six when I observed my older sister and aunt suffering as they tried to lose weight. I decided then that I never wanted to diet. When I was ten, my new stepmother let me know I was fat, and dieting became a constant in my life. Even as a teenager, when I swam and water-skied all the time, my father and stepmother kept after me to just not eat and to slim down. But nobody ever really helped me choose good foods or change my eating habits. Eventually every effort failed.

As an adult I regularly pursued whatever fad diet was popular at that time. I’d do what many do, the yo-yo thing, lose some, go off the diet, gain back more. Finally I decided to get serious help from doctors, therapists, nutritionists and God. With them in my corner, I was able to change some long-standing habits. I quit eating compulsively whenever I was feeling hurt, angry, happy or sad. I identified the roots of my feelings and learned to deal with emotions without food. The surgery has been a tool to help me complete the process. It has taken many years to get to this place. I still have 120 pounds to go to reach my goal weight. My energy level is way up; my use of medications is way down. I have gained what it takes to be successful at weight loss.

My daughter and I each, in our own way, have found “The Secret” to weight loss. “The Secret” is doing what works for you.

I would recommend her way first. Her way is the better way. My way works when diet efforts don’t work—but you still have to work to reach your goal. That is why I know we will succeed and the weight will stay off: because we were, each in our own way, ready.

I have every confidence that with God’s help and guidance we will both reach and maintain our goals.We are far too happy with today’s results not to succeed.

Marilyn Eudaly

Seeing Double

I am an identical twin. I can look fabulous and frumpy on any given day, as people often can’t tell which one of us they are talking to. Along with the benefits of having a twin sister, there is a torturous downside. The better she looks, the worse I look.

My sister and I were raised in a fairly competitive household. We were athletic in our youth and enjoyed many years of karate training and tournaments, often competing against each other. Since graduation and the births of six children between us, we have both gained and kept some unwanted pounds.

Bikini seasons, weddings and class reunions have never even come close to motivating me to lose weight as much as some good old competition with my sister. I’ve always been the heavier sister and I have no problem admitting it, although I’d like to point out that I’m not THAT much heavier. A goal of mine is to be lighter than my sister. I’ve achieved, but conceded, that goal twice, given that she was heavy with each of her daughters at the time.

My weight problem can be attributed to my love affair with white flour topped with any type of sugar: doughnuts, cakes, cookies,muffins and flavored bagels aremy vices. The thought of going “carb-less” makes me shudder. Whole grains, sure,more fruits and vegetables, okay, but NO carbs, NO WAY! Getting over this “sticky” situation will surely be the key to my weight-loss success.

I have tried national diet programs, workout videos, aerobic classes, and recreational sports like softball, golf and Rollerblading to try to shed a few pounds. All of these activities died a quick death when I got sick of “counting” my food, got tangled doing the “grapevine” or got used to enjoying the cold ones after the game. My treadmill seems to be the only exercise that I enjoy. Watching the “fat grams burned” increase is more rewarding than watching the triple sevens appear on a Las Vegas slot machine.

When I finish my jog-stumble-walk on the treadmill, I realize that it wasn’t all that bad, and if I can just keep the kids from joining me on the next jaunt, I might actually start seeing some results. The fact that I panted on a zero incline and at almost reverse speed proves that I am not healthy at my current weight. Nor am I happy that my sister is looking pretty good right now as a result of her minitriathlon training.

When she finishes her race, I will be there to congratulate her on her success and share in her excitement, just as she does when I have personal triumphs. Whether it is a lower number on the scale, the discovery of a great light dinner or the purchase of a new outfit from the regular-size section, I know that she’ll share in my joy.

Now, if only I can figure out how to plant some nacho chips in her cupboard. They are her vice, and if she spots them, it will give me bragging rights for at least a week.

Selena Hayes

Drinking Herself Fat

A
single conversation across a table with a wise
man is worth a month’s study of books.

Chinese proverb

Determined to lose weight, my friend Julie and I started an exercise program, which included a brisk thirty-minute walk every morning. Julie cut her food intake to 1,500 calories a day and diligently recorded every bite she put into her mouth in a food diary. But more than a month after she started the strict regimen, the scale had hardly budged.

“What’s wrong with me?” she lamented one morning after our walk. “I’m burning up more calories than I’m taking in. Why aren’t the pounds melting away like they’re supposed to?” Julie opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. “Want some?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’ll just have water.”

Julie poured herself a tall glass of icy-cold juice, gulped it down and refilled the glass.

“Mind if I take a look at your food diary?” I asked. “Maybe I can spot what’s wrong.”

Julie opened the drawer of her kitchen desk and took out a spiral notebook. I began reading the pages. “Do you have orange juice every day after our walk?” I asked. Julie nodded. “How come you didn’t write it down?”

“I guess I never thought about writing down what I drink. I only write down what I eat.”

I peered at the nutrition label printed on the side of the juice carton. “Look at this, girlfriend,” I said. “Eight ounces of orange juice has 120 calories. Calories you didn’t write down in that diary.”

“But orange juice is so good for you,” Julie said. “I usually have two glasses after I exercise. Three if I’m extra thirsty.”

“That means you’re taking in more calories than you burned up during the walk,” I said. “And that’s before you eat a bite of breakfast.”

“But think of all the vitamin C.”

I picked up a calorie chart that was lying on the kitchen counter and flipped to the fruit and vegetable section. “An average-size orange has only sixty calories,” I read, “and fiber that the juice doesn’t have. You’d be way ahead to drink water for your thirst and eat an orange for your vitamin C.”

“I can’t believe that never dawned on me,” Julie said, a stunned look on her face.

“Let’s do this,” I told her. “You try to remember everything you had to drink yesterday, and I’ll look up the calories.”

“Two cups of coffee.”

“Black?”

“No. Both cups had a big splash of flavored creamer.”

“Would you say two tablespoons?”

Julie nodded.

“That’s seventy calories per cup.Write down 140 in your diary. What else?”

Julie began reconstructing what she’d had to drink the day before. There had been cereal with whole milk for breakfast, a can of cola for a midmorning pick-me-up, another when her energy began to sag late in the afternoon and bottled water with lunch.

“What about dinner?”

“Two slices of thin-crust veggie pizza.”

“That’s in here,” I told her, studying the diary. “What did you wash it down with?”

“A wine cooler. Strawberry.”

“Did you have anything to drink after dinner?”