One
Man’s ‘ Point of View’
An
ICN (modified-meal replacement) patient’s experience
He
lost 50 pounds in approximately 16 weeks
You asked me to write this at this point in my weight
loss attempt. I agreed to, but as I sit down
to do it, I think it may be a bad idea.
I’m afraid of the big hex. It
might be a jinx. I promised myself at
the beginning of this several things. I
wouldn’t become a great big dieting bore.
I wouldn’t make others suffer if I have to suffer. I wouldn’t accuse my family of sabotaging my
diet. The world doesn’t revolve around
this project. A project it is. Here I am, 4 months into it and I have lost
40+ pounds. Oh, and I also promised
myself if there were any successes, I wouldn’t be a self-righteous weight loss
braggart. (Whoops) Nevertheless, this is uncharted territory for
me. I have never come close to losing
this much weight no matter the length of time.
Everything fails. I ate enough
meat with the Atkins diet to gag Tyrannosaurus Rex and couldn’t look steak in
the eye and it failed. I tried
1.
I
have admitted something consciously. I
love food. It is my friend, my
companion, my Valium and Ambien. No, it is my cocaine and Oxycontin. Like most people I must have it. Unlike some, I MUST have it. It is my lover, and to paraphrase the poet, …”it is my North, my South, my East and West, my
working week and my Sunday rest.” (I got
that from the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral, WH Auden.) I wouldn’t have it any other way. Food is wonderful in its endless variety and
tastes and textures. I love every
cuisine. Every diet so far has demanded
I deny that. I am deprived of things I
love. I can’t master that. I shouldn’t be required to. This plan acknowledges this simple fact. I am denied nothing. I can eat Beef Wellington, just not a great
deal. I have to watch what I am eating,
more carefully with calorie dense foods, less carefully with calorie dilute
foods. I can eat it though and I’m not
deprived.
2.
It
doesn’t do any good to blame my obesity on external factors like genetics
(although it most certainly is a component.
Everyone in my family is fat.), stress, Republican legislature or
President Bush. I can’t do anything
about President Bush, my DNA or stress.
(I can do something about the Republican legislature though.)
3.
The
powder packets prevent me from kidding myself.
This is what I can eat, and nothing else. I can’t drop 20 potato chips in addition and
forget about it. (Somehow I could with
other diets.) That’s all I can
have. Nothing else. Don’t even think about it. I do wish Novartis
would get on the ball and provide more flavors.
How about Lobster bisque? The
bars are inedible.
4.
This
is strange but it works for me. When I
obsess about food and feel empty and hungry, I have found it useful to give in
to that rather than suffer. The way I
give in is a little counterintuitive. I
prepare it. I cook it. I fix it.
All my favorite things, sometimes in great quantities. My wife puzzles at the quantities of
leftovers in the refrigerator. (Not
quite so much now.) Having prepared it,
I don’t have to eat it. In fact, I don’t
necessarily want to eat it. Preparing it
is almost enough. I don’t expect this to
work for anyone else. I guess I’m a
little strange.
5.
I
have a new weapon. It is the way I talk
to myself. I must do this and raise kitchen grazing to a conscious rather than an
unconscious level. When I reach out for
something almost unconsciously I have found that I can say almost audibly; “No,
not now.” Maybe in the future. Maybe later, but just not now.” The old “just say no” routine. It may not work for sex and drugs, but works
for me and food. Having done that a
great deal, it becomes part of the day.
6.
Cynicism,
skepticism. This can’t work It never
has. The future is against me. No way, no how can this be successful. Give me a break, you weakling, this is
doomed. Rah rah
speeches leave me cold. Fat people being
sweet and positive make me want to hurl.
Spare me the motivational crap.
Cynicism is what I need. It motivates
me to prove myself wrong.
After all is said and done, the future is still out
there. I can hear it jeering and mocking
me. When it does, I can raise my
clenched fist, and yell back, “You may be right, the future is yours, but the
present is mine. All mine.” And I think I won’t eat that, not just
now. Maybe later,
maybe never, but just not right now.
We’ll see.
An