R.H.

A waist is a terrible thing to mind.
Not minding it can be a more terrible thing, of course, but experience tells me that knowing this and acting on it are very different propositions.

On the other side of 60 now, I’ve fought obesity for 30 years. Before that, I was short and stocky, tending to fat, but had been involved in sports, something that somehow carried me through my twenties. I denied the proof of a widening body and decreased flexibility and energy, never saw myself as pigging out, and managed to overlook incautious and thoughtless eating, generally more serial than gluttonous. People didn’t really say anything about it, or I chose not to hear it if they did. If only avoidance of obvious truths could leads to avoidance of bad habits!

I first came to the George Washington University Weight Management Program 20 years ago. I did well in my first go-round, not realizing then that, in many ways, losing weight is the easiest part of the process. I slowly regained the weight, maybe more, and again managed to hide that truth, even as it played out at about the same pace as the loss had. It’s amazing, the manner in which you can look at something that’s as clear as suddenly non-fitting clothes and seemingly shrinking seats at the movies and not acknowledge what that means.

I’ve stopped and started weight loss programs a number of times in the ensuing years. Something always came up especially my workaholic nature, which was the most consistent culprit blocking me from exercise, smart food shopping, and conscious eating. I learned early on the thin line between valid reasons and excuses, and how easy it is to manipulate that line.

Things have changed for me now, allowing me to change myself, perhaps simply by taking away some central, reliable excuses. I’m retired now, and while I am working on a book, I have had time to go to the gym and swim and water walk as a first, serious change in my exercise efforts. Truth is, I could have done it before, and would have benefitted much earlier. I don’t think I’d have made the progress I have waging the fight on a single front.

After eight months, I’ve now lost more than 100 pounds, with about 50 more as a target. It’s not been easy?t’s not been difficult, either?nd I realize more than ever that the real challenge remains ahead of me. But I also know that I’ve done things differently this time, partly through circumstance and partly through a sense that time and options may be running out on me?r, realistically, that I’m running out of them.

I’m placing myself more centrally in this process because I know that I’m the only one who can see it through. My wife realized that early on: she never nagged me but always made it clear she was concerned about my health and life. In truth, she could not do the work for me, or even guide it. It had to come from, and be driven by, me and me alone. The positive feedback from her and my adult son and friends helps a lot, but I am responsible for, and to, myself?hat has to remain a central notion.

I hadn’t realized how important participating in a group was to the process. My first time around, I’d participated in a group class and it had been (in retrospect) part of the success. I never gave myself the time after that, until now. Retirement deprived me of an excuse to skip out on this part of things. Group is about community, shared experiences, and insights into other people’s individual struggles and triumphs. It’s so valuable in helping to identify, assess, and challenge aspects of food dependencies and weight loss because you may not even be ready to acknowledge such things in yourself until you recognize them in others. It’s a helping-hands process for a situation in which we can often feel very much alone?nd everything helps. Some encounters can be downright inspirational.

One of the other things that’s been different for me this time is developing a calmness about the process. I didn’t become morbidly obese overnight and I’m not going to become healthy overnight?nd I’m never going to be thin, so that’s not part of a realistic goal. Any progress is positive, and any plateau-ing is acceptable because it’s a long run, not a sprint. It’s easy to get down when things don’t happen as quickly as we’d like them to, but that’s just another self-defeating mechanism, another potential excuse to abandon or put on hold what is without doubt a difficult journey.

I’m willing to treat myself on occasion, without guilt but with limits. I’ve confessed to having a slice of pizza right after my weekly visit, if it’s been a good week, realizing that I then have six days and 22 hours to atone. And maybe I’d be farther along absent this ritual, or the occasional cookie. But slow progress is steady progress and I think that if I were rigid and guilt-ridden, that might provide an excuse to really go off the rails, temporarily or for good.

The fasting is easy for me?o choice means no choosing, so neither good or bad choices are made. The modified plans are easier now that I have a better handle on what’s good for me, and especially what’s bad for me. I’m amazed at how little I knew about food, nutrition, etc growing up, and sometimes I’m still baffled. But it’s not that difficult to learn, even late in the game. Knowledge is clearly power in this arena and it’s non-caloric!

I’m a realist. Because things are good now, I’m optimistic, ambitious, goal-oriented without being goal-fixated. I know that any significant loss and regaining of health is empowering and positive, that other things flow from this change, as well. Change in itself brings change in others. There’s no reason for it to be easy, but not addressing the situation is ultimately harder, in terms of both short and long-term consequences.

So (and apologies to the United Negro College Fund) a waist is a terrible thing to mind, but not minding is the ultimate waste. —R.H.