Winter semester of my freshman year I started visiting a sweet 87 year old woman we will call Marta. She went blind about five years ago and was forced to stop writing the personal histories of her family members. An accomplished writer, she was devastated by her new limitations. In March I began helping her write the life story of her great-grandmother; she would verbally draft the novel and I would record the dictations. Going over there was so fulfilling, so enriching for me and I looked forward to our visits every week. Well, one day I brought one of my friends with me. I have been interested in this guy for some time now, but we have remained only friends. Marta and her husband loved him. We had a great time together. Well, the next week I went over, expecting to continue with the manuscript. To my surprise Marta insisted on postponing work for a week so we could “sit and chat.” So we made our way to the couch where we sat down and she groped for my hand. Squeezing it tightly she inquired after the boy I had brought with me the week before. I explained that we weren’t dating but that I greatly admired him. She then proceeded to tell me that this is what she had feared. Apparently my well-meaning grandmother had spoken to her friend Marta and discussed the stalled nature of my relationship with this guy. According to her, the reason for the lack of progress with him was my weight. Hearing the words, “You are overweight” from a BLIND woman was jolting to say the least. I sat there in stunned silence as she zipped through the clinical causes of obesity, the proper way to lose weight and the irrational fear of exercise. “I want to let you in on a little secret dear. The thing that has kept me young and fit all these years is a daily routine of exercises that work EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY. I think you should come over every morning and do them with me.” She then stained to lift her sagging body out of the deep plush recesses of the couch. Upon standing she hobbled over to the middle of the floor, arms flailing in the air, searching blindly for unseen obstacles. Turning to face me she began squatting, knees trembling and cellulite thighs shaking. Gritting her teeth she flexed here arms up and down, curling her fingers in and out.

I watched her in silence, tears streaming down my face. When did I become the object of sympathy in my own service project? The humiliation was more than I could bare. I thanked her for her genuine concern, promised to be back again the following week and excused myself to go to class.

As I hurried back to campus I called my mother and recounted the morning’s events. I bawled and she listened. She has struggled right alongside me all these years. I don’t know who hurts more, an overweight child or their concerned parent. It’s difficult in that no matter what kind of exercise regiment or diet they impose upon you, they can’t solve the problem. It has to be YOU. They have to watch you suffer and hope you’ve one day had enough and decide to change.

So I cried and cried and told her I had had enough. I wanted to make this right. So we discussed possible solutions ( for the millionth time in my short nineteen years of life). We settled on Medifast. My dad had been doing it for about a month and saw great results. While it wasn’t the most suitable choice for a college student, I was desperate enough to commit to something that restrictive.

So here I am now. Day 1.

8:00 Chocolate shake

10:00 Carmel Nut bar

12:00 Chili

2:00 Chocolate bar

4:00 Chocolate shake

6:00 Baked chicken and veggies.

So, its okay. Is it less than enjoyable to scarf down two bites of soy nut bar drizzled in chalky chocolate? Sure. Do I feel less than sane when I want to gnaw on cardboard only fifteen minutes after eating my Medifast meal? Oh yeah. But is this doable? Yes. I feel that I can really do this. Unlike other programs I have tried before—actually—scratch that. I haven’t really “tried” other programs. The cruel fact of life is that these programs actually do work, when you follow them. My Star Wars-crazed brothers would remind me: “Do or do not. There is no try.” Who knew Yoda would be the myth-buster of our diet self-deceptions?

You either pay the price and get the results, or rake in the calories and watch the scale spike. Its that simple. I can do this; It won’t be easy but it will pay off. I am excited to see the results.
I will try to post everyday. I think it motivates me and it will be neat to look back on these posts one day. As for now, I should pack up my stuff and get ready to go. I have twenty minutes until I can go home, and the candy jar in the office is screaming my name. Don’t worry. I can make it. In twenty minutes I will be home drinking my chocolate shake. Life will be good again.