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March 29
I did it! Despite three days of straight eating of Passover food, punctuated by going to synagogue and praying that I wouldn’t gain weight, I went to Weight Watchers this morning, weighed in wearing the lightest little cotton frock I owned, and miraculously achieved my 5-pound milestone! Now that the hardest first 5 pounds were gone, all I had left were the hardest last 10 pounds!
I still suspect that something is off about the Weight Watchers scales. I know I had lost 2 pounds before I began the program, but I was happy to at least have achieved this small triumph. At the last meeting, two of the scales actually conked out, and Carmen was reduced to asking if anyone had any batteries handy! Carmen had made a big deal warning us not to be too disappointed if we gained weight from Passover and Easter, and even she confessed to have gained 3 pounds.
This added to my feeling of smugness because I hadn’t. I can’t really understand how I didn't, either. True, I had passed up the richest foods and kugels, but I had not denied myself my special date-chocolate Passover cake. I can only guess that I burned many calories while shopping, cleaning, boxing, cooking and serving food endlessly for days and days. That, and God must have thrown His mercy on me. I'm sure He helped me earn my bookmark, even if I only made it by one ounce.
While Carmen droned on about always being prepared with a two-point bar or some other low-point snack in case of sudden and acute hunger, I just sat there impatiently until my big moment. Finally she asked for a show of hands from people who had lost weight. My hand shot up like a rocket.
“C’mon up here and accept your 5-pound bookmark!” Carmen invited. With a blush on my slimmer face, I rose from my seat and sidled my way through the thick crowd to the front of the room. Sucking in my not-yet-firm abs, I accepted my bookmark from Carmen and looked out at the sea of my fellow congregants at Weight Watchers, nodding humbly to their enthusiastic applause.
There is nothing wrong with a token amount of public adulation, I thought, gripping my paper bookmark with greater pride than I had felt when I accepted the sheepskin at graduation from the U. nearly 20 years earlier.
In celebration, I finished off the last bits of the date cake later that afternoon. It was time to clean out the pan anyway.
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April 1
I was excited to return to Boot Camp last night, where I hadn’t been for a long time. I hoped the Major would notice my improved, streamlined appearance, but in case he didn’t, I planned to point it out to him.
“Private Gruen! Good to see you!” the Major greeted me.
“Hoo Yah, Major! Good to be back.”
“How long has it been now?”
“Two months, but I haven’t been idle, sir. Don’t you notice that I look slimmer?” I couldn’t believe I had said that. What had happened to my self-respect and dignity? Had it been burned up with some fat?
“Yep, you sure do, but let’s see how you can keep up tonight. It’s going to be a tough session.”
These military men! So hard to please!
At the stroke of six o’clock, the Major blew his whistle and we began our run. He started alongside me and said, “OK, little miss ‘I think I’ll miss two months of Boot Camp.’ Now pick up the pace and show me what you’ve got!”
I never like to disappoint the Major, so I ran as fast as my short legs could carry me without having to call upon his training as a paramedic. We sang one of my favorite cadences, with the Major singing each line and the rest of us repeating after him:
C-130 rolling down the strip,
Boot Camp Warrior on a one-way trip.
Mission top secret, destination unknown.
We don't even know if we'll ever come home.
Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door.
Jump on out and count to four.
If my main don't open wide,
I've got a reserve by my side.
If that one don't fail me, too,
Look out below, I'm a comin’ through!
If I land in a puddle of mud,
Bury me with a case of Bud!
A case of Bud and a bottle of rum,
and we'll raise hell till the kingdom come.
Pin my medals upon my chest,
and bury me in the leaning rest.
Tell my mom I'd done my best,
Meet St. Peter at the pearly gates.
Oh no, I'm a little late
When I get to heaven, St. Peter's gonna say,
How'd you earn your livin? How'd you earn your pay?
And I will reply with a little bit of anger:
Earned my livin’ as a Boot Camp Warrior!
Boot camp Warrior!
Body fat destroyer!
Motivated!
Dedicated!
Armor plated!
Always wet, never dry
We never sleep and that's no lie.
Hoo-yah!
Hoo-yah!
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I was happy to be reunited with the other recruits. And I was thrilled to rise to the Major’s challenge. Last winter, I could only sing a few lines of our cadences before running out of breath. No more! Tonight I sang every line, while not missing a beat on the run. Realizing how much more stamina I had made me run even faster.
The Major even told me to slow down at one point! Ha! Whoever would have thunk it? As I have always said, it is a grave mistake to ever underestimate the power and determination of a Jewish mother.
The only impediment to Boot Camp bliss was Allison. She was a lively and friendly enough fellow warrior, but she vexed me greatly when she started griping about the harsh unfairness of not being able to lose weight proportionate to her stick-thin figure.
Even back in January, Allison was yapping that she just got “too skinny” around the waist, while her hips remained, gee, I don’t know, 31 or 32 inches around. Now it was April, she was as scrawny as ever and still mewling about this gross inequity.
Two other warriors and I, more amply built than waif-like Allison, just gritted our teeth and squeezed each other’s shoulders to keep us from belting Allison in her skinny face. She babbled on, oblivious to the blow she was delivering to troop morale.
The rest of our session entailed grueling push-ups, leg lifts, sit-ups, sprints up and down stairs, and more running. I complimented some of the other recruits, telling them how well they looked. They did, but I was also fishing for compliments for myself at the same time.
I really did not want to have to resort to pointing out the obvious to everybody, namely, that there was a little less of me than there had been back at the end of January. However, no one commented on this development.
Really, some people can become so self-absorbed.
Judy Gruen's hilarious book, Till We Eat Again: Confessions of a Diet Dropout, is now in a wallet-friendly hardback edition, available only through Barnes & Noble. See more of Judy's work on JudyGruen.com.
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