Weight Happens

It wasn’t a day off. It was an “off” day.

I was at my Reach Out Weight and had been there for at least the last week. I didn’t know exactly how long because I stopped weighing myself the previous month since the scale reflected my Refocus Weight. I chose to start this day with curiosity, however, considering the consistency of my rhythms in the last month. What had changed?

I decided to fast. Not as punishment to be sure. But I had not fasted since January. Maybe my system just needed a break from food.

I shrugged my shoulders shaking off the frustration and determined to make it a good day.

For the next eight hours, I carried on as usual, listening to my patients talk about their areas of confidence and motivation. Together we identified specific barriers that come up again and again. I supported them as they shifted their thinking, uncovered new approaches, hung on to hope, and chose not to give up.

In between appointments, I struggled to fight voices in my head crying,  “You Charlatan, who do you think you are?!?!” I could feel the curiosity melting into criticism. Why did the scale still hold so much power? It’s only one data point and an incomplete one at best.

Memories of weight recurrence throbbed in my brain like a debilitating migraine. I had worked hard for several years to gain and lose the same thirty or forty pounds. I tried all sorts of fad diets. WW, Zone, Southbeach. The calorie restriction worked, but only for a while. I could not bear the weight of the unforgiving dietary laws.

I spent 2014 learning a different way: lifestyle change. Lifestyle change brought a freedom from the oppressive focus on calories to the guidance of practices, not only around nutrition, but around sleep, movement and stress management as well. This was effective for me, and I lost the forty pounds one more time, and I thought, for the last time. It was so effective, I was compelled to make a major shift in the way I practiced medicine.

But in the first three months of starting a lifestyle and weight management practice, I regained ten pounds. Ten pounds! I had learned from an esteemed mentor that an increase of five percent from realistic nadir weight seemed to trigger exponential regain.  Adipose cells have memory, and they will fight for the higher set point. Who is going to go to a lifestyle medicine doctor who is gaining weight? That’s like going to a cardiologist who smokes and needs a heart transplant!

Despite implementing every tool I had learned about leveraging weight without dieting, I stayed stuck for two years. I was running circles around the scale and getting nowhere.   

As I recalled the battle, I fretted. Was weight recurrence threatening once again?

My “off” day brought other discouragements as well: news of a beloved one’s cancer, disagreements among family members, and bills. It was always the bills that reminded me that even if I wanted to throw in the towel and give up, I couldn’t.

My husband tried to console me. “You look fine,” he said with real sincerity, “you are beautiful.”

It didn’t help. When I get to this state, there is no encouraging word, no mound of ice cream, no vat of wine that drives out despair. There is only sleep; and I could not get to bed soon enough to put an end to this “off” day.

My dream world took me to a courtroom setting where I played all the roles: relentless prosecuting attorney eager to expose the crime, smug judge eager to enforce the law, biased jury eager to convict the criminal, and indifferent executioner eager to carry out the obvious guilty verdict. I was on trial again, and it was not looking good for me. There I stood in the witness box, swearing an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

The prosecution directed my attention to Exhibit A. “Describe to the jury, Doctor,” she began, emphasizing the word “doctor” in the most mocking voice, “what you see in this picture?”

He directed the jury’s attention to an image of an empty yellow box ten times its Costco size projected on to a screen. Incriminating crumbs appeared defenseless around the box’s perimeter.

“Wheat thins,” I replied meekly, my head hung in shame as the salty words left my parched lips.

“A little louder please, so the jury can hear you,” the self-righteous judge scolded me.

“Wheat thins,” I said again, pleading with and leaning toward the jury, “but, please, I can explain. You see, it was my anniversary and…” A lone cracker flew out of a fold in my sweater, landed on one of its corners on the white marble floor, and spun like a top until it fell flat on its face. Damning evidence for all to see.

The jurors sucked in gasps deep enough to create a vacuum and strong enough to draw the next breath from my lungs leaving me speechless. They jerked their necks side to side eyeballing their neighbors. Like a tempest wind, indignant whispers rippled, then surged among them. “Everyone knows wheat thins don’t make you thin! Everyone knows wheat thins don’t make you thin!”

“Order in the court!” the judge cried banging his gavel all the while glaring at me as if the ensuing commotion was my fault too.

The prosecutor cut me off, not interested in my explanations. “No more excuses, Doctor! This picture clearly shows a lack of restraint. And isn’t that what got us here in the first place!?” Even my defense attorney had no objections.

My heart sank. This courtroom, this trial, it was all too familiar. I knew the routine well—the self-accusation, the guilt, the endless cycle of blame. I imagined, even in my dream state, my defendant’s assistant bursting into the courtroom, her right arm lifted high, waving new evidence to sway the jury’s verdict: a faulty bathroom scale, a better body composition, there must be some rational explanation.

But then I took a moment. A deep breath. I reminded myself that this was a dream, a manifestation of ancient fears, not my new reality. Life happens. Weight happens.

I looked again around the courtroom and saw the people in the dream soften as they morphed into my family members, my friends, mentors, and even my patients—each one representing a piece of the puzzle that was my life. They weren’t judging me; they were symbols of support and understanding.

As I faced the jury, I began to shift my perspective. Yes, there were moments of weakness, and still would be, but there were more moments of strength, perseverance, growth and reasons for celebration. Even celebrations with food. I remembered the countless times I had overcome obstacles, how I had guided others through their own struggles, and how much I had learned along the way.

The prosecutor’s voice faded, replaced by a sense of clarity. This wasn’t about punishment. It was about acknowledgment. Acknowledging the journey, the ups and downs, and the progress I had made despite the challenges. Acknowledging that data is information, not ammunition. And the scale is never the only measurement of health.

With renewed resolve, I rose from the witness box, no longer the defendant, but the advocate for my own journey.

Yes, weight happens, and it’s going to be ok. Progress, after all, is not always linear. And every step, whether small or large, contributes to a healthier, more integrated life.

P.S. My sincerest gratitude to Donna and Melissa, who spoke words of encouragement over me and chased my fears away:

This is the original text from the book where Desiderata was first published.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

by Max Ehrmann ©1927