It’s been a bit more than a week and Smartmom hasn’t had General Tso’s chicken from Hunan Delight, a slice of whole-wheat pizza from Pino’s or a buttery croissant from Cousin John’s.
She hasn’t eaten even one M&M or thought about ordering a cheeseburger deluxe from Grand Canyon.
It’s been salad, salad, and more salad, which is pretty boring. But that’s OK, because Smartmom has to lose weight and she has to lose it bad.
On Sunday morning, Smartmom even let Diaper Diva convince her to join the Weight Watcher’s meeting at the Montauk Club.
Smartmom is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers. She joined in 1998 to lose those pesky post-pregnancy pounds that just refused to go away.
Back then, she attended the Wednesday meeting at the American Legion Hall on Ninth Street — a far cry from the elegant second-floor ballroom at the Montauk Club. At that meeting, the women would strip down to shorts and t-shirts in the bathroom before their weigh-in.
Smartmom got very attached to that meeting’s leader, a Catholic schoolteacher from Bay Ridge with a great sense of humor.
She’d lost 100 pounds and had managed to keep it off for years by avoiding “muffins the size of your head.”
Once Smartmom reached her goal weight, which took about five months, she stopped going. She remembers her first summer after the weight loss.
Ah. The joy of not hating her body (OK, she still hated it a little). But it was such fun to try on swimsuits, mini-skirts and sexy lingerie.
After September 11, however, Smartmom started putting the weight back on. It was from all the comfort food and wine she put into her body in an ill-fated attempt to feel better during the worst of times.
A couple of years later, she decided to try Zoloft. At first, she lost some weight and ran the Brooklyn half-marathon (13 miles from Coney Island to Prospect Park). But after the race, she started putting on the pounds.
She couldn’t fit into her usual size of jeans, her usual size of dress, her usual size of…
It was pretty humiliating.
Weight gain is a very common side effect of Zoloft. But Smartmom didn’t feel like switching to another anti-depressant because she liked the new, less irritable Smartmom.
But it quickly becomes a problem when the anti-depressant starts to make you depressed every time you step on the scale. Something had to give — either she had to limit her portion sizes of pastel-colored cocktails, Mallomars, and Haagen Dazs, or she had to tear up her prescription.
She kept the pills — and also gained 15 pounds.
The other night, Smartmom came home from her writer’s group and found herself huffing and puffing as she reached the third-floor landing.
“I’m concerned about you,” Hepcat said when he saw that she was out of breath.
“What do you mean?” Smartmom asked.
“I’m concerned about your health,”
“My health?” she said.
“I don’t want you to suddenly drop dead,” he said.
Smartmom was furious. Deep down she knew that he was trying to be nice (maybe). But his so-called concern made her feel like the fat lady at the circus with a triple chin and calves like buoys. She felt like she was living life on the verge of cardiac arrest.
As usual, Hepcat said the wrong thing. And Smartmom wouldn’t forgive him. No matter how many times he tried to explain. She went straight to bed and faced away from Hepcat for the entire night. He’s the one, she thought, who never exercises and has a potbelly.
The next morning, Smartmom decided it was time to get healthy. No butter, no cheese, no donuts, and no gelato. And she knew she could lose the weight because she’d done it before. And once Smartmom makes up her mind…
On Sunday morning, as Smartmom got ready to meet Diaper Diva at the 10:30 Weight Watchers meeting, the Oh So Feisty One asked if she could come along. This made Smartmom nervous. What if she gets the wrong idea? What if she decides that she wants to be supermodel thin?
But OSFO insisted; she really wanted to see Diaper Diva and Ducky. So Smartmom relented.
“What do we do at the meeting?” OSFO asked on the way.
“I’m going to weigh myself,” Smartmom told her.
“Can I weigh myself, too?” she said.
“Absolutely not. You don’t need to lose weight,” she told her. “Besides. This isn’t about the way I look. It’s about my health and the way I feel. I want to stop eating unhealthy foods.”
“Should I stop eating unhealthy foods?” OSFO asked.
“No. Well, yes. Candy and sugar aren’t great for your teeth,” Smartmom told her. “But otherwise, you can keep on eating what you’ve been eating.”
The conversation was making Smartmom very uncomfortable. She wants OSFO to feel good about her body and she’s scared to death that she’ll hate her body as much as Smartmom hates hers. Most of the moms of girls she knows are terrified that their daughters will develop anorexia.
Buddha knows they don’t want their daughters to spend the rest of their lives wanting to be as thin as Kate Moss.
One friend is worried because her daughter has stopped eating breakfast and lunch. Another friend’s daughter is on diet to lose 10 pounds and she’s already razor thin.
Still another mom worries that her daughter is overweight but she doesn’t know what to say. And then there’s Mrs. Cleavage, who is worried that her 9-year-old son doesn’t know how to tell when his stomach is full.
So there’s a whole lot of worry out there and confusion abounds. Smartmom wants OSFO to feel good about her looks. At all times. Without end.
Maybe Smartmom should just relax. No one is really sure what causes eating disorders anyway. It tends to strike between the ages of 14 and 18. Some researchers think it’s about control. During puberty, girls (and boys) feel like they don’t have much control over their lives. By controlling their own bodies, they regain some control — even if it is done in an unhealthy way.
Smartmom decided that it was time to tell OSFO the truth.
“I’ve never liked my body very much,” Smartmom told her.
“What don’t you like about it?” OSFO asked.
“Well, my belly is like Bluto. My upper arms are flabby. I guess I wish I had a different body sometimes.”
“But then you wouldn’t be you,” OSFO said simply. And it was the sweetest thing Smartmom had ever heard.
OSFO spotted Ducky and Diaper Diva off in the distance and ran over to them. She’d had enough of Smartmom’s true confessions and it was time to play. Smartmom was proud that her girl has a good head on her shoulders.
Smartmom went upstairs for her weigh-in. She didn’t really want to be skeleton-thin like Calista Flockhart or sleekly Amazonian like Uma Thurman. She just wanted to be a healthier and more beautiful version of herself. That’s why she was at the Montauk Club on a Sunday morning staring at an unspeakably high number on the scale.
Yikes.
But Smartmom was OK with it. She bought a Monthly Pass and a Starter Kit, which included a three-month eating journal. Smartmom knew she was making progress.
Anyone want to go out for pizza to celebrate?
