Diet - The First Five Days

The impulse to start a diet (in PC terms, "a program") usually starts with a moment of deep self-hate - you feel fat, disgusting, and ugly, your clothes don't fit anymore, maybe someone has said or done something to hurt you, maybe a doctor has given you a dire warning about the risks of being fat, and in that moment of dread and fear and self-loathing, you throw your hand up like Scarlett O'Hara in the turnip field and say, "As God is my witness, I'll never be fat again!" In that moment, all the "truths" about how fat you really are, all the ways that you've been able to avoid your own reality become crystal clear. You pass a plate glass mirror and truly "see" yourself, and it's horrible, it's shocking - "I'm even fatter and more disgusting than thought!" You're aware of the shortness of breath at the top of the stairs, and the feeling of fullness in your belly shows itself to be uncomfortable. Maybe your child's friend looks at you like you're a freak, and you're overwhelmed with despair.

At the same moment you're feeling so awful, you see a celebrity on Access Hollywood whose recent weight loss has everybody buzzing, and you think to yourself, "If Kirstie Allie can succeed, then so can I." So you go out and buy a book or a piece of exercise equipment or get a gym membership or order some amazing weight-loss supplement or get the 10-CD set of motivational lectures or you join Jenny Craig or you may decide to consult with a surgeon about gastric by-pass surgery or prescription drugs. You devour the materials about the new diet sensation the way you would normally devour a pint of ice cream. You examine the before and after pictures of people your size and read about how they lost 50 - 100 - 150 pounds and 20 - 40 - 60 inches, and just ran a marathon, and how that now have perfectly flat abs, and you read their stories and think, "They were where I am now, and look at them! In a year they lost all that weight and they say it was easy!"

So you clear the decks for the big diet. It's Friday, and you've decided to start the program on Monday (of course), so you have a weekend to eat all the things you know you can't have when you're on the diet. Friday night becomes lasagna binge night, and Saturday is maybe the last time you can make a big pancake and bacon breakfast for the family, so you pull out all the stops and get the 100% pure maple syrup and real creamery butter and the thick-cut, applewood-smoked gourmet bacon, and you have a feast. You eat the food with a sense of "This is it - the last piece of bacon I'll ever eat" and you make a list in your mind of all the other things you need to eat before Monday morning - nachos, pizza, ice cream, eggs benedict, a grilled cheese sandwich or two, barbecue spareribs, chocolate candy, peanut brittle, rice pudding, a dozen krispy kremes, a couple of Big Macs, maybe a bucket of KFC, and the list goes on. By Sunday night, there's a half of a quadruple-mighty-meaty sausage pepperoni deep dish pizza sitting in its box on the kitchen counter and one more pint of Haagen-Daz in the freezer. You're absolutely bloated, but this is your last chance - tomorrow starts the regime, so you somehow find a position (probably lying down, on your side) where you can finish off the pizza and ice cream before popping five or six Rolaids (the acid reflux is horrible) , maye a few Tylenol PMs, and drift to sleep.

The morning dawns, and BOY are you excited about starting the new plan! There's a spring in your step and an energy that makes you feel invincible. "This won't be so hard at all!" you think, and it's true, that first day is no problem, because you're still full from the day before. "I'm not hungry, even though I just ate half a grapefruit and half a piece of dry toast for breakfast! This really is the breakthrough diet I've been dreaming of! I already feel thinner!"
You jump on the scale that morning and, oh my, it's even higher than you figured, but you think, "Whew! thank God I'm starting now - on the track I was on I would've topped 300 pounds by the new year." In the back of your head you realize that you're carrying about five pounds of waste product in your intestines from your "last weekend" but it's kinda neat that your starting weight is so high - it just adds more drama to your story, and makes the number of total pounds you lose more impressive.

You've managed to clear the decks so the new diet can take its proper place as the number one item on your agenda. I mean, that's what it takes - it has to be number one in your thoughts, because as soon as it's on the back burner, as soon as you're distracted, as soon as you're not giving it your complete and total attention, it fails (or should I say YOU fail) and the weight comes back. Knock on wood, things are calm at work, your husband isn't grousing about his own stupid concerns, and your teen daughter has stayed out of trouble since last summer. There hasn't been a terrorist attack in months, the weather is bright and sunny, your car is working pretty good, and your mother isn't driving you crazy.

You've also managed to prepare the environment for this exciting new undertaking. All the stale Oreos and leftover Halloween candy has been cleared out of the pantry, your husband has been coached on what to say and what to do to support you, the $200 treadmill you bought from QVC ten years ago, the one that's been stored under the guest room bed, is pulled out, dusted off, and placed front and center in the living room. There's no way you can just flop on the sofa at night anymore when the treadmill blocks your view of the TV. You've gone to the supermarket and bought all the things you'll need for that first week: instant nonfat oatmeal, three heads of cauliflower, skinless chicken breast, Pam, Chinese dieter's tea, six green peppers, rice cakes, some sugarfree, fat-free, chocolate-free cocoa mix, a huge container of peeled garlic (this is the secret amazing discovery the diet guru based her whole program on), a dozen lemons, and some cardamom (turns out cardamom, in combination with garlic, has amazing powers to kill appetite and is what the monks in Tibet drink to keep meditating when they should be starving). Oh, and don't forget the chromium piccolinate, the distillate of cayenne and enough Crystal Lite to make fifty quarts of sugarfree pink lemonade.

Maybe you've gone to your closet and pulled out the ugliest, biggest pair of tacky polyester stretch jeans you own and said to yourself, "These are the jeans I'm gonna hold up in my 'after' pictures when I've lost 100 pounds!" Maybe you find, in the back of your closet, a favorite outfit you haven't been able to wear for years, and you check the label - "Hmm. Size 6. If I lose five pounds a week like the program says I will, I should be able to fit into this and wear it to my daughter's graduation!" Maybe you put the outfit in the front of your closet to act as motivator.

You've called your sister back East and told her all about how miserable you are to be fat and how you've found this amazing new diet and you say, "This is it. I can't be fat anymore. "I refuse to let my life be ruined by my eating behavior. I'm doing this for me. I'm tired of putting everybody else first. This time I'm going to succeed, and nothing is going to stop me." You both shed a few tears together, and your sister tells you how much she loves you and how proud she is of you that you're doing this, and offers to help in any way she can, even if it's just to keep Mom from bothering you. Maybe you confess that that the reason you didn't visit last year was because you were embarrassed by your weight, but that you'll be sure to visit next year when you're thin. Maybe your sister told you that she loves you no matter what your weight is, but you think to yourself, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe - but I feel so much better about myself when I'm not the FAT sister, when I'm the same size, or even thinner, than she is, and besides, we have more fun when I'm thin - I can't go to Dollywood and ride the log chute with everybody when my ass is so big." You say, "Thanks, Sis, I sure do appreciate your support."

You might even have sworn off TV or fast-food places for the duration. You've certainly compiled a list of all the foods you ABSOLUTELY CAN'T EAT anymore. You've gone to Lane Bryant and purchased a jaunty verticle-striped exercise outfit to wear to the gym. You've dug up a perky pink scrunchie to hold your hair back when you're in step aerobics class. You've put a cooler in the back seat of your car with a few of those blue ice packs and some containers of sugar-free Jell-O, baby carrots and other "emergency" foods just in case (in case? I mean, when) you're tempted to go off your diet.

"This is it, oh my God, here we go, I can't believe it, finally, FINALLY, I'll pulling myself together, I'm headed in the right direction, my priorities are in order, I have all the tools I need, I'm feeling confident, I'm feeling excited, I'm SOOOOOOOOOO ready for this! Get ready for the new me, world!!! I'm on my way!!"

The second day of the diet goes really well, too - you're light headed and have diarrhea, which of course is a sure sign you're losing weight. Are you imagining it, but are your clothes feeling looser? Incredible! You feel like a wave of energy has washed over you and you're proud of the phenomenal workout you had. And you didn't stop off at Wendy's on the way home! The food you've been eating isn't so delicious, and there's such a tiny amount of it, but that's okay, it's totally worth it to lose weight and feel good about yourself again. You check the mirror: can you tell? Have you lost weight? You postpone getting on the scale for a week so the number of pounds lost is more dramatic. Five pounds? Six? Ten? Sure, some of it is water weight, we know that, but a LOT of it is ugly, disgusting FAT and it's melting off of you!

The third day is pretty hard, because now you're feeling hungry. All the food you ate over the weekend has passed through your system and the first hunger pain you've felt in years makes its presence known. Used to dealing with any sort of discomfort immediately (pop a pill, eat a meal, put your feet up), you're a little panicked about the hunger pain - it's a pang, really, not that bad, but you're not really in control of it, and the solution that presents itself to you (EATING!) is not allowed. So you look nervously around, maybe pop in the DVD that came with your regime, and hope it gives you some ideas about what to do. Drink water - sometimes hunger is really thirst - hmmm! So you chug down a half-gallon of Crystal Lite. Yup, seemed to work! About a half hour later the pang "knocks" again. You quickly flip through the diet guidebook. The guru says that you shouldn't be feeling hungry because the amazig combination of garlic and cardamom kill your appetite. "It's not hunger you're feeling." the author says, "It's just the sensation of having an empty stomach. Relax - it's okay!" And you think, "Yeah, I know the diet is working now! I'm hungry and I'm anxious. This is good!"

You pull through Wednesday (it was a challenge, though, and you give yourself lots of pats on the back for holding on to your willpower and your steely resolve) and Thursday is definitely easier. Your stomach has calmed down a bit. You ache from head to toe from that big workout you had a couple of days ago, but you get to the gym as planned and put in another herculean workout.

That night, you have six ounces of snapper instead of four, and two tiny red potatoes instead of one, but you skip the unsweetened apple sauce and make yourself a big steaming mug of satisfying herbal tea, so it's okay. It doesn't bother you when your husband comes home late from work, and you smell it before you see it - he's carrying a Carls Jr bag containing a double SuperStar with cheese, monster fries and a chocolate "frostie". All smiles, you get out a plate and put the burger and fries onto it for him. You cut the burger in half, then you sip your tea while he eats. The crunch and smell of the greasy food doesn't tempt you. You feel victorious, proud of yourself, and your paints feel looser. "Wow, I've really changed! I'm doing it! This is fantastic! I'm not tempted one bit to eat that burger. Or one of those hot salty fries. In fact, I used to love them but now they look disgusting to me. I think I'll flip through the Victoria's Secret catalog tonight!"

Friday dawns, and excitedly you jump out of bed, take a long pee (and a crap if you're lucky), get naked and weigh yourself. Five pounds! Five pounds! That's so much in just five days! Secretly you're disappointed that it isn't more, but still it's a good beginning, and at the rate of a pound a day, you'll be in a bikini by July! You tell your husband the great news and, having been well coached, he says, "That's so great, honey! I'm so proud of you!" and he smiles. His eyes travel to your hips to see if there's a noticeable change, and his expression betrays to you that he can't "tell" yet if your ass is smaller, but you smile, too, and think, "Wait till I call my sister - SHE will know what an amazing achievement this is!"

You call your sister. She's not home, so you try her on her cell. She's not picking up. You leave a message: "Call me! I've got something really exciting to tell you!" A few minutes later you text message her: "GR8 411; Call ASAP!" Obviously she's really busy.

You go to work. You tell your co-workers that you've lost five pounds already (maybe you even say you've lost six - it's really closer to six - it sounds even more impressive and you can always subract a pound from next week's total). You get reactions everywhere from totally delighted to cautiously optimistic. After all, you've been in this place before, and they've watched while you put back on all the weight you lost. One of your work friends tries to let you know that they're happy for you but that they like you regardless of your size, and you smile and think, "She's thinking I'm going to gain back this weight like I did the last four times I tried a new program, but this time it's different - this time I'm REALLY going to do it - this time I won't have anything come up in my life that distracts me from staying on track. I'm not going to let her negative thoughts sabotage me. She's trying to enable my fatness by telling me she like me regardless of my size. Well, I'll show her - she'll see, she'll see!"

The morning passes excruciatingly slowly. You haven't heard from your sister and you're preoccupied with thoughts about what your co-worker said. "The diet guru said there would be people who were jealous about my success and would be out to get me. I never thought Doris was like that, but obviously she is. What the hell is my sister doing? Couldn't she pick up the phone? She KNOWS I'm on a diet and how important it is to have her support! It's already 10:30 - I'll go ahead and eat my lunch now - it's a little early, but it's only a small green salad with nonfat ranch dressing and two rice cakes. Wouldn't hurt to eat early. I'll go for a brisk stroll at lunch hour - that's it - I'll go window shopping for clothes! Damn that Doris for shaking my confidence like that! Well, that's the last time somebody's gonna try to sabotage my progress. What is hell is my sister doing that she can't call me back?"

By noon, you still haven't heard from your sister, and you're out in the sun, window shopping. You pass by a guy selling hot pretzels. Man, they look good, but they're on the "NEVER EAT" list. You keep going and spot a table with two Girl Scouts selling cookies. "I can't believe it - I started a diet program the same week as the Girl Scouts do their big annual cookie campaign! Oh, they have a new low-fat version of the thin mints. They're my favorite. I really should walk right by, but look at how cute those girls are, how eager little salespeople they are! It's a good cause to support them, I've supported them every year. After all, I was a Girl Scout once! Maybe I could just read the nutrition label and see how many calories and carbs and fat grams they have. Hmmmm, a box has twelve servings (two cookies each) at 70 calories per serving. Very low fat grams! Quite a lot of carbs, though. What're the main ingredients? Oh, high fructose corn syrup solids, then sugar, then glucose. But still - I skipped the apple sauce yesterday, and I still have 400 calories to go on today's regime - maybe I can just eat 2 servings (4 cookies) and it'll be just fine." After all this rational thought, you give yourself permission to "cheat" a tiny bit and have four measly little diet cookies.

Your heart beating rapidly in excitement, you buy two boxes of cookies. ("I know, I'll buy two boxes instead of one. It's two for five bucks anyway - you save a dollar by getting two - and I'll bring the second box back to the office and let everyone else eat them - they'll see how strong I am, how I'm able to resist temptation.")

Just steps from the card table, you quickly tear open one of the boxes and the plastic inner wrapping. The first one melts in your mouth. The sensation is just heavenly. You haven't had sugar in five days and your tongue is practically having an orgasm. "It's so creamy and it's LOW FAT!" You pop another cookie in your mouth. You close your eyes in ecstasy and almost slam into a lamppost. The third and fourth ones disappear almost without consciously being aware of eating them.

The cookies come in rows of five - there's one little cookie left in the first row, like a lone poker chip. Without much thought you pop the fifth cookie in your mouth and stride purposefully over to the trash can. You're going to throw away the rest of the opened box of cookies. You hesitate - seems like such a waste - but you go ahead and throw them away, and you feel so proud of yourself! "Wow, I coulda eaten that entire box of cookies but I only had four - I mean five - and threw the rest away! Amazing! I'm just so strong! I REALLY have turned a corner in my life now. I gotta tell my sis. Why the HELL hasn't she called me yet?"

Back at the office, you pull out the remaining box and, with quite a bit of fanfare, present it to "the girls." They each gingerly take one or two. One of the girls (a skinny one, of course) taps her trim belly and says no thanks, it's not on their diets. You try to persuade them to have just one but they smilingly refuse, and you think, "That bitch - it's just one little low fat cookie, for heaven's sake. What's her problem?" You're flooded with jealousy - and contempt - for her.

You leave the half-eaten box of cookies on the countertop outside your office, then call your sister again. This time she answers. She sounds really tired, definitely not very peppy, but you go ahead with your news. Using a big cheery singsong voice, you say, "Hey Sis! Guess what? I lost SIX pounds in the first five days!" You've actually forgotten by now that you really lost five pounds, but what's the difference. Your sister tries to sound excited for you - she says, "Great going! Wow! Incredible! Good for you! Fantastic!" But somehow she sounds less than thrilled. "What's going on?" you ask her. "Oh, nothing much, really." Seems you need to prod her to tell you. "C'mon, Sis, tell me." "Oh all right - I heard from Lisa last night and she's pregnant." Lisa is your problem neice. Lisa's been through hell and back in her nineteen short years on Earth. Lisa's the one who got a tattoo at 12, seven piercings at 13, and ran away with some biker in 10th grade. "Oh, don't worry about it, Sis," you say. "You know how Lisa is. She's always been a troublemaker. I'm sure things will work out." "I know," says your sister, "But this time I'm really concerned because that guy she's been dating seems like such a loser." Her voice starts to crack and she quietly sniffles. "Cheer up, Sis - come on, it'll all be okay." After another round of compliments from your sister about your weight loss, you hang up.

Before you know it, you're on your feet and out the door of your office, feeling kinda fidgety and distracted. You think, "That damned Lisa, always stealing the spotlight - this was supposed to be my big day!" And you spot the leftover cookies on the counter. "No! NO! I will NOT eat any more cookies!!"

You decide to make yourself a cup of tea. Coming back from the microwave, you pass the cookies again and notice now there's just three left. There's some crumbs on the counter. It's two o'clock. You stride quickly past the cookies, your head held high, and return to your office. You start doing the weekly back-up on your PC, a very boring job you do every friday. Usually you munch on some fritos and sip a Coke during back-up and flip through a Vogue or something. It takes an hour to finish backing up your PC. You've been sipping your tea and organizing your paper clips into two piles - plastic covered and plain. You've been thinking how unsupportive your sister is to allow her petty little concern get in the way of showing you the support you need to keep on track with this difficult, difficult program. You remember Doris's remarks this morning and that skinny little bitch who didn't eat one damned cookie, and you think, "The whole world wants to keep me fat, I just know it, it's a conspiracy!"

At 3 pm, you spot the Girl Scout cookie box on the counter. Now there's just two left. Plus some crumbs.