Begin at the beginning

I mentioned previously that, when I went in for my hospital physical last week, I was shocked (SHOCKED) to learn exactly how much weight I’d gained over quarantine. As if I wasn’t fat enough already, I gained an additional (almost) 40 pounds. I also mentioned that I was redoubling my dieting efforts starting immediately.

Redoubling might have overstated it. I have started cutting back and making a sincere effort toward getting back on Atkins.

Atkins isn’t what it used to be, in part, because the world isn’t what it used to be. The world calls the Atkins low-carb approach to dieting “Keto” now and virtually no one under 30 even knows that Atkins started it all. Which is a shame because it’s a roadmap out of hell.

Starting last Tuesday, I began cutting back. On Atkins proper, you’re supposed to be on no more than 20 grams of carbohydrates a day in an effort to induce “ketosis” — a state of burning fat for fuel instead of carbs. I’ve done all this before — successfully — and while it isn’t easy, I keep reminding myself that it isn’t all that bad either.

Rewind to 2003

I remember the day. I was 35 years old and, while I’d always struggled with my weight, it had recently gotten out of control and I was fat as I’d ever been. I was lounging in the bathtub after work (bubble bath, naturally) and, being sick and tired of growing old fat, I decided I needed to do something drastic or I’d end up 50 years old and still single. (Irony alert!!)

My sister, who had also become obese like me, chose to get the increasingly popular gastric bypass surgery. I thought I’d better look into it as well.

I made the appointment to talk to doctors at Grey-Sloan Hospital about gastric bypass. They had just started a new bariatric surgery department to handle the number of requests they were getting (especially after Carnie Wilson had her much publicized surgery in 1999). I went to a seminar, consulted with the surgical team, was cleared by a psychiatrist, and was ready to go… except…

I couldn’t get over the idea that the post-surgery diet looked almost identical to the popular Atkins low-carb program. Lots of protein and veg and fat and virtually no carbohydrates. What if I didn’t have the surgery. What if I just did the post-surgery diet? Would it work?

June 2004: the start

By summer, my sister (who lived in Florida) had gone ahead with her surgery, and almost immediately experienced complications. She was dropping weight VERY quickly, but she was sick as a dog and had a hard time keeping anything down.

I got spooked and cancelled my surgery date. I decided to give Atkins a try instead. After all, if it didn’t work, I could always reschedule and go forward with it, right? I wanted to see if the hype was real. Could eating a very low carbohydrate diet really work?

I read everything I could find about Atkins and why it worked. Made sense. You change your biochemistry to burn fat for fuel. It was just crazy enough to work.

I started by taking a week to cut down on carbs. I cut out all the fast food. Cooked food at home. I went from eating sandwiches to eating cold cuts on tortillas. I cleaned out the fridge and cupboards of all sugary snacks and chips. By the end of the week, the tortillas were gone, the bad shit was tossed out, and the fridge was filled with leafy greens, meats, eggs, cheeses, and treats that I could have freely like sugar free jello and sugar free popsicles.

That week, I went all-in and counted every carb keeping it under 20. After a week, I weighed myself and I was down more than 11 pounds! I was stunned because I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t have that crawling, overwhelming craving for crap. And I wasn’t headachey and lightheaded from being hungry all the time. I didn’t feel like I was starving. It actually DID what they said it would.

All in all, it took about 7 months for me to drop almost 80 pounds. The weird thing was, it was fairly consistent too. Every week was another 2 pounds or so. One week it might plateau, then another week, I’d be down 3 or 4. It was reliable. I just kept doing what I was doing and the weight just came off.

At about 9 months, it seemed to level off. I had a hard time losing after that, but I looked amazing — and felt amazing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was still technically “overweight” but I was getting asked out on dates, I could move more easily, I had a LOT more energy than I’d had in years, and I actually appreciated and took some pride in how I looked.

I would show people before and after photos and they couldn’t believe it was the same person. I knew a photographer who took monthly photos of me showing my weight loss journey. I didn’t have an official photo from the very start, but I had full-length side-by-side photos from one month in until one year after. I had a website about it. People were amazed. I, myself, was amazed.

I did my hair every single day. I dressed nicely. Bought new clothes and shoes. In some light, I thought I was genuinely pretty. I took up piano again.

I had hope.

The restrictions of being fat

It’s funny how when you’re fat — even as you’re gaining weight — you don’t really notice how restrictive your life has become until it’s already happened. I’ve used this analogy before, but it’s like the frog in the hot water — raise the heat slowly enough, and no panic alarms go off. I didn’t notice how much fat had held me back until I lost the weight.

For instance, I was suddenly able to cross my legs. I still remember the first time that I sat cross-legged on the couch after I’d lost a significant amount of weight. I just sat down and got comfortable and suddenly found myself sitting cross-legged on the couch. HOW? It just happened. I shocked myself. Enough fat had been removed from my body that I was able to move my body in a way that I hadn’t been able to in years! I immediately called my sister-in-law who had been my best weight-loss champion to share the good news! That was a great day.

I also noticed that I suddenly had A LOT more energy than before. It’s easy to say that, and you probably have heard that from others before, but trust me, it’s real. And not for the reasons you might think. Imagine having to carry a 50-pound backpack. Exhausting, right? That feeling you have when you finally put it down and stretch without it — it’s a relief, right? That’s what it’s like. All of a sudden, your existing muscles carry you further, easier. Seemingly effortlessly. You could walk up a flight of stairs unwinded.

You choose to do activities you would have never done before because you don’t get worn out easily anymore. You just do them… you don’t even notice it until you do.

I didn’t notice this until I was about 40 pounds down. Then I began purposely exercising. I finally felt as if I didn’t mind moving. I appreciated it. I amazed myself.

Psychologically, I had less problems with my depression. Maybe that was due to the biochemical chances that happened, but maybe it was simply because I could get out and do more. I did yard work. I gardened. I joined a church choir. I joined a gym. I went for walks. I danced. Guys were interested in me. I felt attractive.

All of those things were boosts to my mood. Even on bad days.

It was great, but that isn’t to say there weren’t problems

As they say, with great power comes great responsibility. And nothing is ever perfect. One thing that sucked was that my hip bones were more prominent which made sleeping on my side a lot less comfortable — I’d wake up sore a lot of times.

And being asked out on dates was swell, but so many guys were assholes. And I didn’t know how to deal with it so I made a lot of really bad choices. I was pretty unprepared for a lot of the social changes that came with suddenly being in the spotlight. I mean, I did the best I could, but not all my responses were stellar.

And every once in a while, I got really, really hungry for sweets. Like a drug addict having a wave of cravings, I would be overcome with wide-eyed lust for sweets. I got into cooking to deal with it — learned to cook all sorts of Atkins-friendly foods that would satisfy these cravings when I got them so I didn’t get too far off track from diet goals.

I was like a machine!

Summer 2005

By the summer of 2005, I was vacillating between 85-90 pounds of weight lost, not quite able to make it beyond that. I’d become a little complacent with my diet habits, re-introducing a lot of fruit and starchy vegetables that came with the glory of the summer season — all of which have a lot of carbohydrates. I still wasn’t eating straight-up sugar, but I wasn’t as strict as I might have been before. But to be honest, I was pretty comfortable with where I was weight-wise. I had to wear spanx to tighten my loose skin, but I was okay with that too.

I got back into acting and did a lot of performing. I felt like a star again (and that felt GREAT!)

The other weird thing was that in that year’s time, I’d made a lot of new friends, particularly through acting. Lots of new people wondering where I came from, seemingly, out of nowhere. I have to tell you, it was heady having everyone fawn all over me like that. I seemed to have SO MANY friends so quickly! I questioned whether or not I should tell them about my weight loss. Would they lose respect for me if they knew I was formerly obese? Of those I told, no one was judgemental (as far as I know), but I always wondered if they would be.

So what went wrong?

A man. Yep. Tale as old as time. I don’t want to get deep into it, but to nutshell it: a guy I foolishly fell in love with thought Atkins was stupid, couldn’t understand why I did that since I looked so great, why not eat some cake on my birthday? Or have some pasta salad? I gained 20 pounds, he broke up with me, and… it all went to shit by 2008.

Then I got fully hooked on painkillers, quit my job, lost my life, went through withdrawal, saw a shrink, gained a fuck-ton of weight, went to nursing school, and … well… here we are.

Everything old is new again

So I’m here all these years later trying to recreate the success of that time, while avoiding the pitfalls. I have completed a week of transition, cleaned out the fridge, went to the store and bought Atkins-friendly food, and am ready to begin again. Tomorrow will be one week. I dusted off my scale. I’m ready.

I know I’m not the same person I was almost 20 years ago, so it’s not going to be the same. But I can give it a fair shake. My only other option, like 20 years ago, is gastric bypass. It’s more important than ever that I have to do this to save my life.

Maybe I won’t find love. And I likely won’t be able to have children at this point. But I can improve my health and find joy in the little things again. I can be healthy enough to enjoy the life I have.

As far as avoiding the pitfalls, at least I know what they are now. I know I’ll have issues with the socialization and attention that will come along with it. I will have to seek some counseling to help me cope. I know that if I’m lucky enough to get to the point where my hip bones stick out a little, I can get a foam mattress to help. And if I have saggy skin, I’m sure Spanx will be there to literally lift my ass for me.

It’s gonna be okay.

I can’t wait for the first day I can climb the stairs without becoming winded!

Or crossing my legs!

Or seeing my jawline and cheekbones again!

So much to look forward to — I can’t wait!

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“You have to come to your closed doors before you get to your open doors… What if you knew you had to go through 32 closed doors before you got to your open door? Well, then you’d come to closed door number eight and you’d think, ‘Great, I got another one out of the way’… Keep moving forward.” — Joel Osteen