Update coming soon!

When trying to lose is just maintaining a win or a loss?

We've all been here. When you're trying to lose, do you get down on yourself during your weekly check-in when you step on the scale and find you are the same weight?

I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't a little disappointed. When you are trying to move the needle lower and you are basically diligent about whatever diet you are on, you want your work rewarded.

Notice I said "Basically diligent" which is code for not 100% faithful, but in the ballpark of being a good boy.

When I first began this odyssey, I recall a similar arc during my first month where I lost big in week one and was a bit shell shocked by the loss in the subsequent weeks. I know in my heart I was much more strict at following the boundaries of the plan back then. So when you retreat to your better ways of eating, you have to be strong enough to not look at the scale as your guide to success. You have to know in your heart that if you stick to it long enough, the reward you are seeking will follow.

Being self aware: knowing what you did right and wrong this week is critical to success.

I can be disappointed that I didn't lose while also being cool with maintaining. I know that sounds schizo, but it's true.

Going Lower on the High Holidays

Today I clocked in 2 pounds lighter than last Friday. Down 12 pounds now in 2 weeks.

Go Team Me!

It's the first 2 week stretch of being pretty observant to the plan and I am feeling a lot better about myself and the progress I have been making.

Today begins Yom Kippur - the holiest day of the year for us Jews. As such, we begin a period of fasting.

Kinda hard to gain weight when your fasting, I guess - so I atone for all my misgivings - false starts - failed promises to myself and others and begin anew.

To all my friends and followers, I wish you all peace during this solemn day of reflection and thank you for your continued support.

Love,

Steve

Spin, Spin, Spin!

The scale continues to surprise me (more spin).

Hopped on for my one-week weigh in and was shocked to see a 10 pound loss.

Anyone who is connected to me on Facebook saw the pictures of the ribs, and only me and my conscience know about the peanuts at the Dodgers game, and the other little skirmishes that occasionally occurred thru the week.

Thrilled beyond belief.

It's a start. Already the jeans are fitting looser, the belt is one notch tighter and I feel like real progress was made.

When Truth is A Casualty: Believing Your Own Spin

When you are a veteran PR guy, as I am, the worst thing you can ever do is believe your own bullshit.

Before I stepped on the scale today, I played out this whole scenario in my head about what was an "acceptable" number to gain given I hadn't seen the doctor in several months.

Throwing out numbers like this is a dangerous game. Complete utter lunacy, actually.

But let's play it out here for a sec so you can see the way my sick little mind was working. I figured, it was over four months since my last visit, so 20 pounds was somehow ok.

Forget that I pulled that number straight out of my ass.

Forget that I had been promising myself I was gonna go to the doctor for weeks prior to actually mustering the courage to just go.

20 pounds became the acceptable gain.

As I hopped on the scale this morning, biting my lip and hoping the healthy crap I took when I woke ups would somehow matter when the final tally popped up on the screen, I knew I was fucked.

And then my deal with the devil - my 20 pound arbitrarily acceptable gain - gave me the easy out.

I only spiked 15. Well, hey now and Hallelujah!

Angels were singing. Cute little animated birds were flying around my smug smiling face and they were chirping.

In my mind, I had been spared humiliation because miraculously I was actually under what I thought I had packed on since April.

"Wow, not as bad as I thought," I told the nurse.

The only victim here is truth.

In reality, I am up closer to 35 pounds since my low. And if that's not depressing and infuriating to me, nothing is. I have fallen for my own hype. Whatever will power and resolution I once possessed has given way to weakness.

If you look back on the blog, you can count the number of posts in recent months that proclaim, I am back and I'm better than ever.

Well, I'm back, warts and all. Trying to find my way thru this mess. The pledge I have made to my, myself and I, is to try to lose much of what I have gained these past months by my birthday - October 24th.

It's a lofty and ambitious goal and one I can meet if I truly focus on my eating and exercise with the same strength and conviction I had back in February of 2009.

So,  time to stop spinning and start all over again.

The Return of the Fling

Tomorrow I head back to the Doctor after a long absence.

I keep starting and stopping and promising myself I will be good tomorrow but tomorrow becomes next week and next month.

Been putting this off way too long. It's been 4 months since my last face to face with the team and I really don't want to face the music, but at a certain point, it's playing way too loud.

This has been a bad fling.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Wow, that spiral staircase takes a long time to navigate when you are going down, down, down.

Why the fuck did I work so hard for so long only to throw it away so quickly?

I sat in a room of colleagues today cavalierly downing pizza. Then I went to the movies with Hannah where it was a bag of popcorn. Then to dinner for sushi and menchis for dessert.

What has happened to you, Elzer?

Get a grip, man!

Back in the saddle again

I lost 7 1/2 pounds last week. Probably the first time I have lost weight in months! Feels fucking fantastic to be back in the saddle again.

I will post a bit more later... should have offered this update days ago.

The Dark Days of the Diet and the U Turn Towards Tomorrow

When you have been ambling kind of rudderless and you know you are off course, there is something incredibly powerful about grabbing that keel and pointing the boat in the right direction. For the first time in a long time I feel like the wind is at my backslide.  Finally,  I am heading towards the routine that made me feel so good about myself last year.

Case in point: today. Instead of meeting a friend in Vegas for the Wine Spectator's Grand Tasting gala, which is an annual event I try to attend,  I am home with my family.  Sure, it was a fantabulous excuse to have a buddies weekend in Vegas eating, drinking and gambling, but when my friend started waffling over whether we should go, it was just too easy to duck out and stay the course that began earlier this week.

Last night, as we celebrated our anniversary, I convinced Amy that we should just remain home where I could cook a nice healthy meal.  Now I know a guy should put some energy into celebrating a momentous milestone like  15 years of marriage, but we really had a good time just hanging out at home.

Thru the week, I backed the attack with home cooked meals at work. I went to the gym a few times. I started drinking lots and lots of water. All the staples of my program. Nothing bold. Nothing daring. Just familiar basics.

Was I perfect? No. But it has been months since I have felt like this and already I am feeling a difference physically and mentally.

How did I veer to a place I vowed never to see again? It started slow with baby steps and pre-cheats that became a gateway to unsanctioned eating. I recall one day going into the lunch room at the office where there were stacks of pizza boxes left over from an office meeting. It didn't matter that I had already eaten lunch just moments before. The boxes beckoned. I found a slice of margherita and tore into it with some ravenous delight. Instead of quickly jamming the pizza down my throat in some crazed sneak, I boldly sauntered into the hallway - slice in hand - where I bumped into a colleague.

I am sure he thought - "What is Elzer doing with pizza in his hand?" But I shot him a look that said "Don't fuck with me. I wanna be bad."

And that attitude that began as delicate little tastes and polite little bites evolved into a mini-collapse of the mentality that helped me drop 130+ pounds.

The difference these days is that normally I wouldn't slap myself into submission until I had gained all my weight back and then some.  I was able to catch myself relatively early in the relapse. I think more than anything else it is because I saw most of the family echoing my behavior and I didn't like where it was going. In truth, it was Amy who was leading by example. She never abandoned going to the aerobics classes the way I just cut off going to the gym. As a result, I think she maintained her loss best thru what I will affectionately designate as the dark days of the diet.

I dunno what will happen next. Lots of stuff is going thru my head. Each day is a challenge. Today we go to the movies. I want popcorn. I want to have that instant gratification of wanting what i want when I want it. But I just can't live that way. Others may have the metabolism to handle those desires. I am not that fortunate.

So I have to build up, once again, an ample reserve of attitude that allows me to beat down that wanton lust for won ton or popcorn or whatever tasty treat is tempting me in the moment.

If the last few months have taught me anything, it is that this fight will be lifelong and it will have victories and defeat.  I wish it was more stable but it isn't. Never has been. Never will be.

Copyright, 2010, Steve Elzer. All Rights reserved.

The Look

On Monday i went to dinner with members of my family. My brother took one look at me and I could see his concern in his eyes. "So, are you still going to the doctor?" he said among other gently nudging, prodding questions.

This was purely his polite code for "dude, you're packing em' on again."  

The truth is I have been off the range for months. Yesterday, I went to the doc and checked in for the first time in 5 or 6 weeks. The scale tells no lies. I am up more than 20 pounds since my low.

I am disappointed but I am not in a death spiral. The wake up call had actually come before "the look."

I am carb free for close to 40 hours now. So now it is back on the plan. I cancelled a bunch of lunch and future dinners and am bringing my own food into the office from home. Tonight, Hannah and I are going to the gym to work out for the first time in a while.

I will lose what I gained by this time next month.

No one ever said it would be easy.  

Partner in the struggle

A friend who is also struggling sent me a note today.

"I have lost my mojo and need to find it again."

I suggested we meet at Shakey's where they have fantastic fried Mojo potatoes.  

Misery loves company. 

And so it goes. 

The mindset is everything when taking on a life change. 

When you want to cheat and feel like you can just deal with the consequences, you cheat. 

This has been a lousy week to try and get on track. Three dinners out and three food centered parties makes it hard to stay true and on course. 

I plan to begin anew on Saturday. 

Mojo. 

I will find it again.

Schizo Boy, The Bulge & The Spotlight

"I'm still here," I say then I disappear.

For weeks on end I go AWOL only to pop up like that rascally gopher crawling out of his hole in Caddyshack. I stick my head above ground, do a quick little dance and grin. These posts lately have felt like nothing more than me shaking my chubby hips before quickly scurrying back underground.

Frankly, the commitment has been a bit schizo.

So what happened to me? What happened to that steely resolve? What happened to that walk with my wife where I declared "we are never going back there!"

All I know is my pants are uncomfortably tight. The dedication to diet is on shaky ground and my program collapses like a house in Haiti once the tremors start.

I wish I could say that my jeans were washed in hot water and they shrunk.

Not so.

I certainly can just switch to the next size up but that would be too easy. That would be waving the white flag of defeat and surrender. I would rather live with the tight waistband that serves as the pinching and painful reminder that I gotta get a grip.

No more time outs. No more celebrations.

I am turning the spotlight back on and crawling out from underground.

It's the only thing I know that works in my battle of the bulge.

This will be the first of at least three posts this week.

Photos and written material by Steve Elzer

© Copyright, 2010

Fridays With Doctor J

I returned to the fold on Friday after nearly 7 weeks of playing hooky with the diet and the regular visits to the doctor. I was nervous as I walked thru the door and headed into the familiar routine of checking in, dropping trow, getting the b-12 shot and having the stats taken before jumping on the scale.

So when I looked down at the numbers flashing before me, I was honestly a bit surprised that I had only gained 3 1/2 pounds since the first week in January - a huge victory. Especially given the week I just enjoyed with a completely extravagant, hedonistic, and impossibly delicious wine dinner with friends in Santa Barbara.

So after this night of excess and the weeks of playing fast and loose with the plan, my little victory dance was not something to celebrate. And therein lies the rub. I considered gaining 3 1/2 pounds in 7 weeks a big win and I left cocky and perhaps not as completely committed or resolved to retrenching in the diet as I was prior to getting the news.

As a dieter, when you have had a lapse and you return to the fold thinking you have gained more that you have, and you hit the scale only to come in UNDER expectations, you can really play havoc with your best intentions.

Your mind says "well that wasn't so bad," and you give your self license to continue playing the game just as you have...

Wrong. No can do.

I am back to the doc. Now I need to get back with the exercise routine... I think I will head to the gym tomorrow and kick start myself all over again.

Finding My Way Back Home

Friday I go back to the doctor. I feel a bit like Charlie Sheen going back to rehab, except without that psychotic history of beating the shit out of a lot of women.

I know I have gained a bit. Nothing too nuts (i hope), but enough to feel it and know i need to return to basics. Getting back on the horse is harder than I thought.

How I Got Pulled Over And Detained on The Dieting Super Highway

During the last several weeks, many friends have asked about my absence from this blog.

“You really need to get back to it,” urged one colleague at a recent dinner. “Why haven’t you been writing?” asked another at a Christmas party.

I wish I could say that I have been suffering from a long-festering bout of writer’s block but that would be a lie. I have been avoiding this site because I have been avoiding my diet.

It should come as no shock that the holidays have been harder to navigate than I expected.

Heading into December, things started reasonably well. I survived the gluttony of Thanksgiving and actually lost weight. Given the way I had eaten that week, I was genuinely surprised to see I had lost a few pounds. Well, from that point on I hit a rocky road – and I am not talking about the ice cream.

With each passing party, event or dinner out, I became more daring and my gradual comfort level with tasty and all too familiar comfort foods made me feel a bit like a crook on the lam.

I say that because at some point shortly after stuffing that cocktail weenie or puff pastry down my throat, inevitably someone would take that as a cue to saunter up to me and ask about the diet or this blog.

No kidding.

Practically every time I went in for that mouth-watering bite, someone was there to tell me how great the family looked. Talk about a binge buzz kill :)

Now the good news is the safety net that I envisioned when I publicly declared this life change almost a year ago really does work. No matter where I went, no matter what I may have just swallowed, someone somewhere unwittingly was reminding me that I was supposed to be dieting.

The bad news is that safety net was not enough to support the cheaply erected platform because the diet foundation that I thought was pretty firm crumbled at the first real test of stress and pressure.

When I think back on the last few weeks, I have been so good at being so deliciously bad, I have actually won awards for my misbehavior.

I shit you not.

Yes friends, I confess that during my delinquency from dieting, I entered and won a holiday cookie baking competition taking home the Grand Prize for Best All Around Cookie (the actual ribbon is posted at the top of the blog).

As you well know, any respectable competition requires practice. So, in the name of science and experimentation, I had to crank up the Elzer test kitchen and make a few batches of gooey goodness so I could determine which recipe might reign supreme in this nail biter of a cookie battle.

Of course, we are talking about trying at least one back-up recipe that didn’t quite make the cut because damnit, I have standards, and I didn’t deem the final product “award worthy.” And you know my tough "standards" bull puckey is really just code for "I wanted to scarf down as much cookie dough as humanly possible without throwing up."

Now come on! When the dieting fat guy decides to celebrate the spirit of the season by firing up the oven with a fantastic concoction of Valrhona chocolate and melted marshmallows, I dunno, something is wrong.

I am no rocket scientist, but looking back on it now, any sane person might say this whole scenario seems like a desperately bad idea. At a minimum this is a display of deeply rooted diet depravity of the highest order.

You see, when other serious addictions present themselves during the holidays, the police will step in and randomly erect one of those oh so effective sobriety checkpoints and voila -- it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.

Thankfully, the cops have little care for drivers with a freshly baked batch of award-winning Whoopie Pies in their trunk. For the record, they were obscenely awesome and deserving of the blue ribbon and I want to thank the committee of judges and the voting members of the Cookie Academy should any of them be reading this indecent confession.

So, instead of facing the law, I ultimately have to face the scale, which after the year we have been through is a helluva lot more sobering to me than handcuffs.

Sure, there is a certain part of me that expected to gain a little weight this month and up to a point, I would have been totally fine with savoring, the sweet and starchy rewards I have enjoyed guilt-free.

But I feel like I went about this all-wrong.

Just as I have avoided this blog, you should know I also neglected the doctor and regular workouts with my trainer and most importantly, my weekly appointment with my friend the scale. Yep. Turned my back on them all.

Then, yesterday morning, the noose tightened.

I got an unexpected call from the doctor’s office – which I guess was the diet police equivalent of a holiday sobriety checkpoint.

“We haven’t seen you in a while and we just wanted to make sure you are OK,” the nurse said.

In the time since my two missed appointments, I have experienced a trip to Vegas, extravagant wine dinners, Chanukah parties, my daughter’s birthday, an unbelievable orgy of lobster and Peking duck at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas, and lots and lots of little side celebrations. With each passing day, my belt began to feel just a bit less comfortable, so I knew the post-Thanksgiving weight loss victory was a distant memory.

Here, now, on the phone the Monday after Christmas weekend, the long arm of the doc was tapping me on the shoulder to reel me in.

“Can you come in today?” the nurse asked.

“Uh, no,” I replied.

“Why not?” she politely but pointedly chimed back.

At that point, the gig was up. She could smell the carbs on my breath through the phone 35 miles away.

I confessed to the nurse that the last few weeks had not been great and I had no intention of coming in to the office and surrendering to the scale. I didn't need that cursed needle to tell me I gained weight.

I told her I would get back to the plan in the New Year and would see her in a few weeks.

As I was spewing my best conciliatory spin, I could almost hear the nurse saying to herself "not so fast, chubby."

After a little back and forth involving whether I would check in as they wished and get on a scale, we compromised and she talked me into an office visit today.

Now truth be told, I sincerely do not want to know how much I have gained and no matter what, it probably is not as bad or dramatic as I am making it appear. My lord, I still fit into the same pants I was wearing three weeks ago, so the havoc is more in my head than on my waist. But I stuck to my guns and I did not get on the scale - though the dutiful staff did their best to coax me.

The point in making the trip back to the doctor's office an hour from my house was to reconnect with the office staff and rekindle the routine.

I promised to return to face the scale after the 1st of the year.

I know that many people struggle with weight gains this time of year. The trick for me will be to make the adjustment now and return to the regimen that has been so successful for me and the entire family (all of whom are doing extraordinarily well, by the way).

The troublesome part of this introspection is not that I gained a few. It is that I abandoned the pillars of my program so easily when I have worked far too hard to get to this place. I know I should have been more dutiful about blogging and sticking to my workout routine just as I know I should have faced the music of a potential weight gain after the first missed doctor’s appointment.

So for the next couple of days, I am gonna keep my eye on what’s important but also cut myself some slack and hit it fresh in the New Year with a new resolve to continue what I started.

To those of you who have followed the ups and downs of this journey this year, thank you for your incredible support. Whether you know it or not, you are the first line of defense and I couldn’t ask for better friends or a better safety net.

2009 proves to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that anyone is capable of change if you set your mind to it. The last few weeks prove that you can give in but you can never give up.

I wish you and your family only the best in 2010 and the years ahead.


Copyright, 2009
Steve Elzer
All Rights Reserved

Two by Two

Two weeks ago we celebrated Hannah's Bat Mitzvah. During the service, she read from the torah about Noah's Ark.

As all my theologian friends know, Noah took two of every kind of animal on board his little boat.

I feel like I have been stuck in a numerology game because during the past two weeks, I gained 2 pounds.

My 1 by 1 turned into 2 to lose.

This week, I lost the two pounds and I am back to where I was on October 16th.

So tomorrow, I am playing the lotto and my numbers will be 2, 22, 10, 16, 1 and 32.

The 2 represents the pounds I just lost. The 22 signifies the 2 weeks I gained 2 pounds. 10 and 16 is the date I was last at this weight and 1 and 32 reps the 132 pounds lost to date.

I know I am not winning the lottery, but let's face it. I have already won so much more than I could ever gain playing numbers.

That said, a nice fat check would be pretty damn skippy too!

The Tao of Stress Eating

“Stress eating.”

The dieter’s crutch, excuse and curse.

These are really just carefully crafted words that, when used together, somehow magically communicate that whatever binge you are on is justified.

So, if , for example, the last few weeks I have overindulged on an assortment of gateway snacks like roasted, salted peanuts by the bag full – well, calling my behavior “stress eating” should not make the behavior seem so marvelously understandable.

It’s not ok.

Deep down inside, I knew last week when I stepped on the scale, my day of reckoning was upon me. I gained my first pound in a year and it bummed me out.

Sensing this genuine disappointment, a few close friends chalked up the uncharacteristic gain to a host of recent events: my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah party; hiring a trainer and converting fat to muscle; not drinking enough water; Lucas’ hospitalization; my birthday, too much anxiety at the office.

Now while all of these factors may have come into play in some way or another, the plain truth is that weeks ago, I opened a door that I have yet to shut.

Even as I type this sentence, I am nourished by the sweet, chewy tang of my favorite pineapple flavored Haribo Gold-Bears: “The Original Gummi Candy.” And isn’t that the surest sign that the heart and head are no longer in full alignment. Here I sit typing away knowing I shouldn’t be gobbling a gummi and yet, what the fuck? You will be happy to know the rest of the ½ ounce bag just went in the trash.

For two weeks, my forward momentum has stalled and I have taken two-baby steps back.

I feel like Winnie the Pooh after gorging on honey and condensed milk at Rabbit’s house. After binging on all the snacks his host could muster, a fat and sated Pooh headed out of the house only to get stuck in the hole.

Watching Pooh struggle to get out, Christopher Robin said:

“There's only one thing to be done. We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.”

'How long does getting thin take?' asked Pooh anxiously.

'About a week I should think,' said Christopher.

'But I can't stay here for a week!' Pooh exclaimed.

You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It's getting you out which is so difficult.'

###

True dat, Christopher! You are a wise character of literature.

Getting out of a rut is always the difficult part of recovering back to the core of the diet.

But really, it’s not about how much time you put into your diet, because it can never be over.

When Pooh asks “How long?” the answer is forever.

Like Pooh, I know that I can make great progress in a week if I set my mind to it. I also know that the two pounds I gained in the last few weeks can and will disappear if I really focus on what got me here. And what got me here was a strict dedication to my diet, writing down everything I was eating, exercising, and drinking lots of water. All of that has changed of late. I have become lax. Back to basics.

Last night I was invited to a Hockey game with some business colleagues. At the event, I met a stranger who was no stranger at all. She knew me and my family from this blog. Someone who knew me shared it with a friend who shared it with her and suddenly it was as if I was conversing with an old friend. It was surreal to meet a person who I had never met yet knew so much about me and this part of my life.

We spoke for awhile about the diet and were deep into the discussion when our host interrupted with news that a dessert cart was outside the door of the suite. We both passed, yet we both wanted that damn carrot cake!

As much as she said I had inspired her, she inspired me to really try and look forward again.

And today, when I stepped on the scale knowing that the news was not going to be good, I greeted my second consecutive one pound gain as a lesson to retrench myself.

The holidays are just around the corner and when I hit New Year’s eve this year, I want to look at myself in the mirror knowing that the resolution for a better, healthier me was a promise kept throughout the entire year.

I have been stressed and strained and full of worry about so many things – all of which are either behind me now or truly beyond my control.
Time to say oh, bother to those two pounds.

I can feel the little dark rain clouds lifting already.

© Copyright, Steve Elzer, 2009
All Rights Reserved

Lessons Learned from George Bush

A few weeks ago I hired a trainer. Strike that, I hired a dominatrix disguised as a trainer.

Now I have had trainers before, but none like this guy. The whole experience leaves me questioning my sanity for either I am now an avowed masochist or I have officially lost it.

I suppose it’s human nature to want what we can’t have.

Yes, I would love to look like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, but no matter how much money or time I spend working out with some fitness junkie, I will never have a six pack, unless we’re talking beer.

Paying lots of money to have your ass kicked for an hour is a sure sign of commitment, or perhaps it just means you should be committed -- to a hospital for the twisted.

Exercise has been key to my success throughout this process but there is some subtle distinction, I suppose, between exercise or cardio and weight training. When you are shedding weight like a dog sheds hair on a hot summer day, no matter how much time you spend on a treadmill, your body just starts to sag in areas you didn’t know existed. At a certain point, all the aerobics is great, but you really need to start to tone.

To me SAG has always been an actor’s union and I have never really given a whole lot of thought to what’s sagging because the bulge was always in the way.

For the first time in my journey, I have decided to build beyond the Elzer cardio routine. Time to stop walking past machines that looked intimidating. Time to do more than my weak attempt at bicep curls.

Now to be honest, in the two weeks since I started up with Zack the Trainer from Hell, I have had to reschedule three appointments because of some faux Hollywood crisis or some silly Sigalert. But even with those hiccups, I am still finding time in the schedule for this important date with torture.

After my first focused leg workout, I could barely walk, much less sleep for two frickin days. But the other night, after Zack was done playing Marquis de Sade with what he lovingly called his “fat burning” routine, he had me hop on the treadmill to finish off the night of fun and merriment.

While I was walking and wincing in some dual delusion of agony and accomplishment, I turned on the Treadmill TV and up popped The Biggest Loser.

I have not been following the show religiously this season, but for the skinny at heart, TV does not get any more inspirational than this. As I was throwing my petty little pity party complaining to myself about how much I hated this whole decision to hire a trainer, I was slapped with a serious dose of perspective.

These Biggest Loser contestants were suffering round the clock agony in pursuit of their dream. As much as my muscles may have been aching (and they were), I started to imagine how painful the experience must be for the heavy ones on the tv in front of me.

Sure, I thought, they were on TV playing for hundreds of thousands of dollars, but the stakes for me are higher. I am playing for something much more valuable -- life.

Until I started really focusing on change, my day-to-day existence had been pretty sedentary. I was like a high functioning baby-man. I slept, I woke up, I crapped, I dined, I whined at the freeway traffic or work, and my idea of exercise was lifting a fork to my face or climbing the stairs to my bedroom at the end of the day only to plop down in my overstuffed bean bag with a big bowl of buttered popcorn. I lived some version of this cycle for years – practically my whole life.

Seriously.

And when I think that this ridiculous routine is broken – shattered really – and replaced with getting home from the office, eating something healthy with my family, and then forcing myself to hit the gym for 1-2 hours a few times a week, it almost doesn’t seem real because it has never been “me.”

I don’t like pain. Never have. But pain, weirdly enough, scared me to the point of meaningful change and if pain got me here, I can endure a little muscle stress. Because whatever I am feeling, it’s not 1/100th of the pain those brave people on tv are experiencing with their trainers.

As much as I may love to hate Zack, he isn’t driving me into the ground on some last chance workout.

I lost another 3 pounds this week. Grand total is now 132 pounds shed since January 1.

I am still noshing on things I know I shouldn’t have – mainly peanuts – and I even went to another wine dinner this week, but I still think I have found a way to make it all work.

Dangerous talk, I know.

But I am finally at a point where I can finally see a checkered flag in the distance. It’s still months and months away, but I am more than 2/3rds of the way to my goal.

Today I picked up a new pair of jeans that are 18 inches smaller than my largest pair of pants. And as proud as I am of all the fantastic progress, I also know deep within that I will never cross that proverbial finish line.

George Bush taught us many important lessons, but one of the most memorable was never land your jet on the tarmac and declare “Mission Accomplished.”

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

In my religion, today marks the beginning of the New Year.

We are officially entering an intense period of self reflection, reconciliation, introspection, and ultimately atonement. In a few days, we will ask for forgiveness for our weaknesses as we look to follow a path with our lives that corrects deficiencies and seeks to improve the way we interact with friends, neighbors, family, colleagues and perhaps most importantly, ourselves.

This is a time for me as a Jew to really drill down and dig deep to reflect on whether I am leading the life I aspire to lead. How can I improve as a father, a husband, and friend? Have I acted in ways that I regret? How can I be a better man?

For years, I would sit in temple, listen to the Rabbi, read the prayer book, participate in Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services and ask for the power, strength, conviction and commitment to change.

But for the first time that I can recall in my lifetime, I am returning to temple feeling as though I made significant progress towards the better me I soulfully sought a year ago. For so many, change is elusive, and always just out of reach but it is possible if you want it bad enough.

I am humbled and grateful for the transformation we have experienced as a family since January. As we celebrate the High Holy Days, the Elzers wish you all a very Happy New Year and we send our heartfelt love and gratitude to an army of countless friends who continue to support this life-changing journey every day in every conceivable way.


May peace, health, happiness and laughter fuel your lives for many, many years to come.

I'm Back!

I was sweating it.

I know it seems like I say that often, but my anxiety this week was more than the usual pre weigh-in jitters.

You see, to quote the title of the Tyler Perry film, I Can Do Bad All By Myself.

I have been testing the limits of dieting during the last several weeks and I really expected to see a gain for the first time since beginning this odyssey in January. But happily, my worst fears were not to be.

After a pretty extravagant wine dinner earlier in the week, increased “snacking” and several meals out, I still managed to lose a pound. The total loss to date: 125 pounds.

Of course, these diet deviations come at a price. The weight is clearly coming off more slowly

These days. That happens when you grab a fist full of nuts here or a bite of chocolate there, but striking a balance in the real world of eating is the goal. And I definitely have become more daring in recent weeks and that is not a good thing.

Can one stray and still stay in bounds and in control? My history with this suggests the answer is a resounding “no.” And while the results may lean in my favor right now, gravitating towards food that is supposed to be off-limits is really not wise.

The deviations began a few weeks back when Lucas was rushed to the hospital.

As a parent, you are never more vulnerable than the day your child faces a serious health crisis.

The stress eating began pretty much the moment my wife called from our pediatrician’s office and said our doctor was insisting that Lucas be taken to the hospital in an ambulance. That weekend he came down with the flu, spiked a nasty fever and by Monday apparently was not getting enough air into his lungs.

As I hung up the phone and headed for the door of my office I stuffed my pocket with a massive fist full of sugar-free candies that I keep in a bowl on my coffee table. Normally I might enjoy a few a day, but by the time I made the trip from Culver City to Tarzana, all the candies were gone. I wasn’t even conscious of the consumption. It was just the beginning of the binge to follow.

Now I know that sucking down a few sorbitol filled candies is laughable when compared to those who rally a real bender of a binge.

I readily admit that what I now consider over indulging is pretty frickin’ ridiculous compared to the destructive damage I would have done eight months ago. Had this occurred last December, the starting bell would have been an appetizer consisting of a couple of Hickory Burgers at Apple Pan. The new me cheats in a much more reasonable and measured way. This time, I plied my pain with a mondo bag of apple chips and an orange. When I confessed my breach to Amy, she looked at me and laughed.

All thru the week that Lucas was in the Intensive Care Unit, I was trying my best to fight off the irresistible urge to eat and cheat.

On the third day in the hospital, when Lucas was finally beginning to show signs of improvement, his appetite returned. Since it turned out he had a bad case of the Swine Flu we decided to let him go hog wild with the hospital food. “You want turkey and mashed potatoes, son? Knock yourself out!” So for the last few days that Lukey was in recovery, he was able to have everything his little heart desired. It got to the point that I think he was looking to stay an extra day in the hospital just so he could get an IV drip of carbs.

I have been a bad blogger of late. Too much time has lapsed in between posts. Much has happened in our lives that really deserve more introspection and analysis and I shouldn’t gloss over. For instance, before the hospitalization, we took a trip to Lake Tahoe and I never shared how we took on the challenge of the Family Summer Vacation. After Lucas was released from the hospital, one of our first adventures was a tasting at a country club to help determine a menu for an upcoming event we are planning. Finding a way to taste thru multiple plates of appetizers and main courses without giving in to gluttony was memorable. Returning to the scene of the crime 5 days later to taste thru 14 separate desserts was torte torture.

So much has happened since we last reconnected.

Every day is a new hurdle and I know I need to commit more time to the blog. It helps reinforce resolve and just taking the time to think of behavior offers me a forced perspective, if you will. Simple, random bites of this or that add up and can lead one astray in the worst possible way. The truth is there is no such thing as a simple or random anything.

Every step further off the path – every bite no matter how trite – is like a gateway drug.

As I finally sit down and try to put the last several weeks into focus, there were blow-ups where I once again felt the family was sliding down a slippery slope and maybe I just didn’t want to tackle these fears – whether they are real or imagined.

What I do know is that it is too hard to write about these events so long after the fact.

I will do my best to be much more diligent in updating the blog. I know in my heart – and in my head that keeping this site current is critical if I am to continue maintaining the momentum in the right direction.

Ó Steve Elzer, 2009

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