Guilt Free Dieting – A Case Study using HcG

Is There a Guilt Free Way to Lose Weight?

Today I decided to document my curiosity. With all the hype about the HcG diet craze, my undying need for new experiences forces me to find out more. Anyone who knows me is aware of my anal research habits, which could include a dozen hours poring through white papers, documents and Web sites, before I make a decision to buy something. And even with all the research, sometimes the product or service turns out to be a scam anyway. I know a dozen people who have lost significant amounts of weight using HcG, and this with both the injections (ack) and the sub-lingual drops.

And since my aim is to live guilt-free, what better subject to study than one that causes more guilt than any other–dieting. So over the next 23 days I will document my findings here–both guilt-related, physical and mental–so that others can make a well-informed decision as to whether this miracle diet is worthy of their time or not.  And no, that’s not me in the picture here.

My necessary disclaimers and full disclosure: I work in the Internet industry and I am not an affiliate or related to anyone selling this stuff. I bought my liquid HcG drops based on a friend’s recommendation at YourHcg.com.  They were very revenue-oriented and terrible conversationalists, but gave me a 20% discount on a 15-day supply (I later learned that I will have to buy another bottle to finish the program, so don’t make that mistake!);  the bottle arrived 3 days later as promised.

I am not a doctor, and I did not consult one professionally regarding this stuff.  I did speak to a doctor who has prescribed the injections but knew nothing of the drops since he is not a naturopath and doesn’t claim to know anything about that area of the medical field.

I understand that weight is lost based on calories in vs calories out, and that the source of those calories has an effect on hormonal balance and thus weight loss. I exercise five times a week;  I use a combination of strength training, Pilates, and cardio.  I also ride my horse about three times a week.

My eating habits are already better than 95% of Americans.  I eat fish and chicken, and limit pork and red meat to once a month.  I limit my sugar but don’t avoid it completely.  I eat low-fat or fat-free cheese, eggs and their whites, and eat only whole grain breads.  I limit my pasta intake because I eat too much of it when it’s in front of me.  If I could live on cheese and sour cream for the rest of my life, I would. (I know that there are many of you out there.)  I eat five times a day, which feels more like grazing.

Prior to this experiment, I weighed 143.4 lbs.  According to my trainer, I should weigh 125 lbs, which would put me at a BMI of 20, which is nearly at the bottom of the healthy range for my height of 5’7″.  According to my doctor, I should weigh 140 lbs, which would put me at a BMI of 22.  My BMI is currently 23, which is still within the range of healthy.  Based on these recommendations, I am aiming for a weight of 133 lbs with a  BMI of 21, which is smack in the middle of the healthy zone. This amounts to just over 10 lbs of weight loss.

Today is my first day of taking drops.  I was instructed to administer 6 drops under the tongue, 6 times a day.  On the first two days, I am instructed to eat as many high-fat foods as possible in order to prepare myself for the severe cutback of calories on the third day.  I can understand this principle, yet since I don’t eat like that normally, I am kinda grossed out.  I have had 2 Dunkin Donuts and a sausage and egg sandwich, which normally would be my entire day’s worth of calories.

I am on my sixth glass of water at 10:30am because of all the salt I just ate.

My stomach feels like I swallowed wet cement and it’s hardening inside right now.

What your Children Learn from your Kind Acts

Your Children are Watching You

There’s something about learning by doing. After the January 12 earthquake in Haiti I learned more about my son than I had known about him in the first 12 years of his life. As he watched the people crying on CNN, being dug out of the rubble, bloody and homeless with no food or water, I saw my son’s eyes well up. He turned to me and he said, “We really need to help them! Look at those children; they have nothing to do.”  The thoughts of a child, concerned about the welfare of other children, because he had been in their place at one time.

And so with that, he conjured up the idea of sending yoyos down to the children so they had something to play with while Haiti was being rebuilt. We set about creating a website, yoyosforhaiti.com, and he wrote letters to all of the major yoyo manufacturers, who applauded him for his kindness and thoughtfulness towards the Haitian children. All but one contributed, as well as many individuals, and some went way out of their way to ensure that he met his goal of 500. It took a little while and some diligence on his part, but he followed through and he reached his goal. We took pictures along the way; we sent the press releases to CNN and the local news came to interview him. They asked him where his idea had originated, and his answer surprised even me. He said, “I know what it feels like to lose it all. I was homeless and I lost everything–even my cat–in Hurricane Katrina, and so I can understand how these children feel and I want them to feel better.”  My eyes welled up, as did those of the cameraman and the anchorwoman. For I thought that he had been too young during the Hurricane to equate it with a more adult-oriented sense of loss.

Here was true human compassion albeit in a small package; but it shows that kindness is still prevalent in our world and it gives me hope.  This is how we should want our children to grow up.  I was proud see my son display such love and empathy towards children he will never meet. I wanted to avoid taking any credit for myself. Yet when I look back at the little things that I’ve enjoyed giving to other people: those I don’t know; animals; children; the homeless–I  realized that he had been watching from the sidelines all along.  I was setting an example without even trying. And my mother had done the same thing before my own childish eyes, always giving as much she could despite having very little. She always had a smile for everyone she met, as do I to this day.

And so we pass the tendency for compassion down from generation to generation. We should be planning these lessons if they don’t come naturally to us, and we must ensure that those little acts of kindness are seen by our children and those around us. And when you see your child perform an act of kindness, make sure that praise and show appreciation. Because with the ripple effect, anybody who sees such acts is positively affected by them–whether they be a smile, a cold drink or a yoyo–and each observer will positively affect another in some small way.

Misjudged First Impressions

Recently, I was shopping for a horse that I could just throw a saddle on and ride around the neighborhood. I already share a beautiful Arabian mare, but she is a prima donna that hates to get her hooves dirty. Not the right horse for riding around the neighborhood.

I scoured the papers, online classifieds, Horse Training Sites, and the feed store bulletin board for the perfect horse. There were gorgeous options–Quarter Horses, Friesians, Saddlebreds and Paso Finos with shiny coats and proud stances.

And then I came across an ad on Craig’s List: “APQA Paint Horse, $900″

And memories of my childhood dreams arose of riding bareback across the plains just like Pocahontas did…and I had to further investigate the advertisement. The pictures were fuzzy, but there was a You Tube video that showed the horse jumping in an arena. From a fuzzy distance, she looked like a decent horse for the money. So out I drove, all the way across town, to see her in person.

She was mixed with 26 other horses, grazing in a field. Her markings were, well, odd. Not the beautiful cow spots that most of you are used to in a paint horse. She is an overo, which looked like someone had splattered bleach on her brown coat, leaving tiny, irregular white spots in really strange places. She is no beauty; she was a hundred pounds underweight, filthy and had matted mane and tail–but her eyes were clear, and she seemed to have the disposition I was looking for. Calm, easy to ride, not readily excitable.

It turns out that this owner had taken the horse as repayment of a debt that was owed to her–exactly $900–and wanted to turn the horse into cash, thus eliminating one more mouth to feed. It was obvious that she didn’t want to put too much effort into restoring the horse back to health, although I give her credit for taking better care of her than her previous bankrupt owner.

So I wrote the check, and she delivered the horse, complete with papers, to the riding facility where I had rented a stall. This facility housed show horses, and sported teenage girls posting with their black velvet caps darting up and down on their perfectly clipped trotting mounts. The arrival of my horse caused quite a stir–a silent one, if you get my drift–not because of her beauty, but rather because of the lack of it. On this property full of high-maintenance show horses, mine stumbled out of the trailer like a homeless bum after he finishes his wine in the bag. Shaggy, dirty, with hay in her forelock, she looked around in fright at all of the horror struck people with gaping mouths.

I had bought a nag.

“She’s got a great disposition,” I told my disbelieving friends. “She just needs a little training and care.” They said nothing, but their lips were pursed, and their gazes turned away from my new horse and far across the field.

The trainers were ever positive, since they were being paid well to do as much as they could do in 30 days. They made no promises. We put her in her stall, which must have looked like Plum Sykes’ penthouse to her, where she ate for 2 hours straight. I named her “Tuesday.”

At first, the reports from the trainers were grim, and the other horse owners made a wide berth when we went a-walking. But then, last night, we worked her again, and the real Tuesday started to emerge. With food in her stomach, and attention directed toward her training, I could finally see a glimpse of the horse she would be. She held her head higher, her gait was more steady as she regained musculature and balance, and her willingness to please her rider was evident now that she was no longer starving.

I am not so sure she is the kind of horse I can just throw a saddle on and ride around the neighborhood.

But I am sure that she was meant to be with us at this time…to teach us that first impressions aren’t always right, no matter what psychologists say the statistics are. After all, what if she were human? Unkempt, unfed, forgotten and lost. We see them all the time, and many of us are quick to judge the external appearance rather than considering the soul that is trapped inside.

Here’s a video of the real “Tuesday” the day before I brought her home.