Weighing In

I have gone on record (here, I think) as asserting that goal-setting is of the devil. I am wrong about this, of course, but I can make a good case. For instance, I have set the same goal, renewed with vigor and the best of intentions, every January for 48 years. The goal, as you might have guessed, is to lose weight. But from those early years, when I was a normal-sized teenager needlessly torturing myself during the Twiggy Era, to the present, when I am a grandmother approximately twice the size I was on my wedding day, success in reaching the goal has eluded me.

Now, you, sensible reader, will immediately suggest that the fault is not in the process but in either the choice of (unworthy) goal or the implementation, or both. The fault in other words is not in goal-setting per se but in the plaintiff. Me. If I just did it properly, the process would work. I appreciate your point of view, which undoubtedly has great merit. I offer in response, however, my history:

Knowing that a "healthy" weight is important (let's call it a worthy goal), I have planned, promised, vowed, made charts, kept records, fasted, prayed. I own dozens of diet and exercise books, including the promising Think Yourself Thin. I have joined online programs, including but not limited to e-Diets, South Beach Online, Jillian Michaels, Fat Loss for Idiots (twice). Okay, I have not joined Weight Watchers or L.A. Weight Loss or Jenny Craig. I haven't done OptiFast. But I have counted calories, carbs, units, exchanges, whatever. Sort of. Sometimes. Not really.

Okay, so we're discovering a tiny "implementation" problem here. And, of course, I have taken suppplements, mountains of supplements—bad ones like Hydroxycut and Lipovarin and good ones like the (very expensive) Sunrider and Mannatech products. And, all right, Fen-Phen ("bad" category) actually did work, which highlights one chink in my armor—the attempt to get around the "will" part of goal-pursuing. I could say, Fen-Phen worked; goal setting didn't. Is that fair? But listen. I have experienced countless successful juice fasts and 5-day detoxes. I have existed upon cabbage soup, almonds, NuPlus, and Lean Cuisine. I have even subjected myself to that insult to human alimentation, NutriSystem. I consume handfuls of CLA, HCA, chromium, green-tea extract, 5-HTP … you don't want to know it all. This is not easy. I juice, blend, eat good carbs, and drink lots of (distilled) water. I have even tried "halving it," eating sensibly, and dividing my (much smaller) plate into thirds.

I pause here to mention one thrilling moment a few years ago when a researcher at the University of Utah (I don't know how he got my name) told me he bet I wouldn't believe him when he told me I didn't weigh enough for their gastric bypass study.

Exercise? At this very moment, my copy of Body for Life sits not three feet from my elbow. I garden (obsessively) and do my own home repairs and (minimal) housework (okay, not the windows, and Doug still does most of the floors). I move very heavy and unwieldy furniture and appliances up and down the stairs by myself. I own or have owned an obscene number of exercise machines, including an actual bicycle. I have a lifetime membership in 24-hour Fitness. I have great walking shoes and a first-rate pedometer. I know precisely how to stay in the Fat Burning Zone, and likewise and in the alternative how to "Interval Train." I LOVE upperbody workouts. Theoretically. I appreciate your thoughts here about consistency. I am consistent. Every year I weigh more. (In fairness to myself, I will admit to weighing 15 pounds less at present than I did at my all-time high in April 2004, the day I graduated from law school securely addicted to Dr. Pepper.)

As an aid to motivation, I have made myself accountable to others—friends, support groups, family members, most recently my six-year-old grandson. Who says, “I can’t imagine you will actually do this, Grandma, but it would be great if you did.” I refuse to be shamed. I refuse to be vain. And my health is fine. Is this therefore an unworthy goal? Is that the problem? Should I just settle with being the way I am? NO! Because I don’t WANT to be fat! I really, really do want to look better, have more energy, and fit into the clothes in my closet. And it really would be great if I did. So what’s in the way here?

Let us consider, in other words, the core question, as recently articulated by my five-year-old grandson: "Grandma. Why are you so fat?"

Is this simply a stress-response problem? Adrenal exhaustion? Metabolic Syndrome X? Candida albicans? Something glandular/ genetic/ hormonal/ environmental/ behavioral/ psycho-emotionalogical/ spiritual?

Actually, I know what it is. It’s a character disorder. Taking an honest look I discover that I am, simply speaking, a glutton. In days of yore that would have been a sin. I admit I am a sinner, and I need to repent, which means turning away from a way of thinking, a state of mind/being that is damning me, holding me back, but which I am loath to abandon. And here it is: I want everything.

I am a glutton for life and its splendors. If I see something I like in the marketplace, I want one in every color. At a buffet, I have to try everything. I buy too many books. Every room in my house contains too much stuff. I stay up late because I’m a glutton for the day’s experience. One more chapter in one more book, one more magazine article, one more interesting program on the History/ Science/ Discover/ Biography Channel, one more item/ person/ incident seen on such channel to find out more about (blessed Google!). And all this requires nourishment. Fuel (best if pure glucose) for the brain.

And then, once I do manage to sink into bed, I hate to get up in the morning because once I start doing it I’m a glutton for sleep. I am always late because I’m a glutton for what I’m already doing, and I don’t want to stop (I usually call this an “inertia” problem, but gluttony makes more sense today). I don’t generally seek out “social situations,” but once I get there, I’m the last to leave. I rarely make phone calls, but when someone I like calls me, I can’t hang up. When it’s my turn at the organ, the postlude is always too long. Good grief! You can see from previous entries here what happened in the first few hours of beginning again to think about my ancestors! Perhaps it's believable when I say in all honesty that during certain periods of my life (see, for example, JRCLS 2001-2004 and especially the two years following) I have accomplished too much. Way way way too much. Interspersed with periods during which I recover too much. (No, my Affective Disorder is not Bipolar, though it is Seasonal. So let's say my Sin of Gluttony, my SOG, is SAD, not BAD.)

But ever and always I think too much. I talk too much. I explain too much. I fret too much. I praise too much. I criticize too much. I gush. I plant too many roses. I give my students too much feedback and my clients too much help. At Christmastime I decorate too much. See how already I have begun to blog too much? My husband once said this: “You don’t spend money unwisely, dear. You just spend too much of it.” Guilty. A therapist once told me that my depression saved my children from the amount of attention I would otherwise see fit to inflict upon them.

Wait a minute! Here’s a clue. I don’t exactly want to cultivate depression but …

“Take a little time for yourself every day. A bubble bath, a moment’s meditation.” Why would I do such a thing? I want ALL OF THE TIME FOR MYSELF. Why open the bag of cookies or violate that candybar wrapper if you can’t have the WHOLE THING?

That's it! As an all-or-nothing sort of person, I just need to exploit the “nothing.” Be a glutton for self-deprivation. I used to do this quite well, until I learned to call it pathology. Time for renewal. Temperance is merely … too much moderation!

Okay. So you’re right. It’s not the process after all that I should scorn. It’s just a matter of setting the proper goal and then focusing upon the proper processes for reaching it. Here is how I will begin for 2009:

I hereby resolve to gluttonously deprive myself of concern about my weight. In fact, I will think obsessively about not worrying about my weight. Mostly importantly, I resolve and vow that by the end of the year I will have perfected, through persistent practice, my ability to “not eat” … too much!

Ahhhh! I feel better already.