The Expert: True Confessions Of A Dieter

I am a dieting maven. If anyone who vaguely knows me wants the low-down on a particular diet, I am the one they come to. They can be sure that no matter how obscure the diet, or how recently it has reached our shores, I would have tried it. Low carb, high carb, vegetarian, you name it and I’ve tried it. I like nothing better than typing all the popular names into the search engines: Atkins, Agaston, Perricone. I can tell you what to expect in terms of projected weight loss, side effects and can provide recipes for each. That is how you become a dieting maven.

And don’t mention the slimming aids and other dietary supplements. As soon as the new “miracle breakthrough” was announced, I would be first in line, in search of my own miracle. Because expert that I am, I am not what you would call skinny. Some people politely tell me that I am “well-built”, but we all know what that means.

I convinced myself through the detrimental effects like heart palpitations, sleeplessness and general agitation that it was all for a good cause. Some of the potions worked and for a few weeks I would bask in the admiration of my friends, but as soon as I discontinued the course, the kilo’s would creep back; with reinforcements!

I must have lost 60 kilograms in the last 10 years. And regained 80. That is the nature of diets. The quicker the diet promises the weight will fall off, the quicker I am on it. Come on, admit it, there is nothing more pleasurable than losing 3-4 kilograms in a week, even if we have to down smelly cabbage soup in order to do so. But of course man or make that woman, cannot live on cabbage soup alone and so bye-bye diet.

But it’s not only cabbages. All those one-food diets promise exorbitant weight loss. The rational part of me knows most — if not all — the movement on the scale is water loss. But who can think rationally when they are starving? Certainly not me! Like the time I tried the grapefruit and boiled egg diet. After three days I was ready to ditch the boiled eggs, but the grapefruit diet as it then became, only lasted one insane day.

Eventually I had to face up to the facts that I had always known, but refused to accept. Diets are a short-term response, but ineffective over the long run. And it was long-term weight loss that I was looking for. For too long I would follow a rigorous program of depriving myself and anxiously watching the scale to the other extreme: eating whatever I wanted (with seconds) and scrupulously avoiding the scale. Need I add that exercise was anathema to me?

I knew that I had a choice: accept being overweight, with all the consequences to my health, or I would have to take a different approach. I decided that I had abused my body for too long with dubious diets and potions to lose weight.

My first step was to throw away my scale. This was traumatic for a girl who could tell you the best time to weigh yourself (9am) or the best surface on which to do so (hard and flat). Then I had to take stock of what was making me fat. I wrote down everything and I mean everything of calorific value that passed my lips in a week. The amount of cake was obscene and there had been no birthdays to justify it. So that was a start, no more cake, unless it was a really special occasion like a birthday of someone important to me.

But ditching cake was not enough. My epiphany was simple: energy out should exceed energy in. Okay, maybe not exceed, but there must at least be some energy expenditure. This meant that I had to embrace exercise. Easier said than done for someone who thinks that gyms are institutes of torture — psychological and physical, and other forms of exercise just seemed like hard work for the fanatical and sad.  Still, I had to get moving and I cast my mind back to the female athletes whom I considered to have the best bodies. I recall flicking television channels one day when a marathon was on. I remember marvelling at the non-existent tummies of the frontrunners and thinking, “I want some of that!”

On a hot summer’s day, early in the New Year, I joined a running club. I felt a bit intimidated by the more seasoned runners, but most of the women were just like me. Unfit and overweight in varying degrees. Each evening before we hit the road, we would do 15 minutes of stretching exercises to warm the muscles. I must confess that I even struggled with these and my coach was forever telling me to tuck in this or that body part; stretch that. The first few weeks, we had to learn to walk fast and it really was a matter of being able to walk before we could run. But even that was hard. Five minutes in I would already be winded and building up a sweat. But I persevered.

Now six months later, I can see the subtle differences in my body. It has not been an overnight difference, just a general firmness and decrease in the bumps and lumps. I still have the occasional indulgence; I eat out and have fun with the added energy that working out gives me. I am sure that my friends appreciate this too, as I no longer rattle off a laundry list of dietary requirements and foods that are taboo. Everything in moderation — even the cake.

I found that once I knew what that sugary or fatty food would cost or the good work it would negate, I found myself making healthier choices. Like snacking on a piece of fruit rather than a chocolate bar. So while the weight loss has not been dramatic, I know that my body is definitely improving and in this case, slower is better. I am in it for keeps.

Yesterday was an unseasonably warm day and I wore a skirt. As walked from my car to the restaurant where I was meeting a friend for lunch, an elderly lady complimented me on my legs. Pleased, I smiled at her, “Thank you,” I said, “I work hard at them!”

Story Credit: Maxine Case, Cape Town, South Africa.

Photo Credit: Creative Commons.