It’s Just Not Fair

Why do I stay overweight? It is totally unfair. It is downright unreasonable. Some people eat just what I eat and they stay thin. Some people are taller than me, they weigh the same as me, and they look trim. Some people don’t enjoy ice cream, or sweets, or desserts, or bread, or pasta. They stay slim and trim. Why in G-d’s name did He give me a sweet tooth, a desire for spaghetti and pastrami? Why do I like chocolate and vanilla so much? Why can’t I enjoy lettuce and cucumbers, and carrots and broccoli as much as cheese and potatoes? Why do I constantly have food on my brain, thinking where the candy can be bought, where pizza can be found, and where various food places are located? It is downright unfair that my brain knows where every restaurant I like in Atlanta is located. I need to focus on other things, but food persists in my head. This is not a good thing, and yet I don’t know how to get rid of those thoughts. It’s just not fair.

It’s not right that I have to work hard to lose weight. It’s not right that running one mile only uses up 100 calories. Why 100 calories is just a couple of bites in a hamburger or a hot dog. I would have to run a marathon to really lose weight. I won’t do it, and I don’t like it.

There are a lot of fat people who want to lose weight and fail, and some thin people with a high metabolism who eat all they want. Why didn’t I get a high metabolism so I could eat what I please, and not gain weight? I feel just like Rodney Dangerfield, the comedian, who often said, “I get no respect.” I want the weight to just drop off of me and it isn’t easy. I don’t like it, it’s just too hard, and I want to complain about it. But no one will listen. I tell you, it’s just not fair.

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It is easy to write about the time when I was 10 years old, when I could not smell anything because of a sinus problem. I was thin then, a kid that could not enjoy food. I was cured with penicillin, the wonder drug just being used after World War II. Once my sinus problem was cured, I could smell my food and that began my troubles with weight.

I could place the blame for being way overweight on Dr. Waldman, the family doctor who put an aviator mask on me, forced me to inhale the penicillin and cured my illness. I could blame my mother, who was also overweight most of her life, worked in a bakery and brought home some of the best desserts that a first-class Jewish bakery in Brooklyn made. There was an unlimited supply, and I had my share of them, sometimes for breakfast and often after dinner. I could blame my overweight on my wife’s good cooking, even though she is careful to make meals that satisfy a Weight Watchers food program.

There are plenty of scapegoats for me to choose, but I know that it is all rationalization. The buck stops with me. I have free will, I decide what to eat and how often. I decide whether to exercise or not. There’s no one to blame but me.

Being overweight is my failure. It is reinforced every day, morning, noon and night when I eat. The cure is well known; it takes no drugs, no special equipment and not even an advisor. It is just a matter of committing to losing weight.

I can get control of the situation if I put my mind on losing weight, not just part of my mind, but all of it. I have to think weight loss 100 percent of the time: morning, noon and night. I have to dream about it, write about it, talk about it and then just maybe the weight will drop off. It’s just too much effort, and it’s totally unfair.

When all is said and done, I can’t change nature, I can’t change my body, I can’t find an easy solution, and I want one. I want to sleep late, lie around all day, eat often and well, and lose weight. That’s what I want, and I can’t have it. It’s just unfair and I’m not alone.

The bottom line: Commitment is everything.