(Many of you will be familiar with this series--it was an 8 part series that I posted under the title of "Fighting Fat--the victories and the defeats"--I have condensed it here into 2 parts for newcomers to my blog who may not have read it before or know my fat history--here it will be in two parts.)


I was the sort of baby whose cheeks you wanted to pinch--all 4 cheeks--including the 2 on the butt.

I was the kid who had"--such a handsome face if only he would lose weight."

At 16 I was in the hospital due to an overdose of diet pills--hey, I rationalized that since I lost 7 pounds by taking a pill a day I would lose 14 pounds if I took 2 pills a day and so on--didn't work!

You want the fat jokes? I know them all. You want the names fat boys, teens, men are called? I had them all thrown at me.

(An aside--strangely enough I never 'suffered' for lack of sex--there are many, many chubby chasers out there!)

The only time in the first 30 years of my life that I was thinner was when I was in the USMC for 2 years--not thin, but thinner. With the logic of the Corps why not put a fat kid to work in the kitchen? They did. I came out of the Marines fatter than I went in. (I did lose about 20 pounds during boot camp--probably the only time I ever exercised.)

You name the diet and I was/had been on it---grapefruit, ice cream, fasting, watermelon, all kinds of 1 food diets, etc., and some you can't even name or don't want to remember like the eel diet (don't ask!)

After just losing a lover, in March of 1967 I had gone out after work (Hey, what could be a better job than being a waiter whose pay consisted of all the food he could eat), got drunk, stopped at The Stage Deli and had a 'Hymie's Special' (a triple decker 3 meat sandwich with cole slaw and Russian dressing on it--serves 2 with a side of French fries), stopped at a bar to have a nightcap and 3 drinks later went next door to a pizza parlor and got a large, everything on it, to go pizza.

It was 1 o'clock in the morning. I was drunk. I was nauseated. I hated myself. I couldn't commit suicide because I didn't know how or have the guts. (Pardon the pun.) I didn't have the nerve to slash my wrists. I didn't know how to get a gun and if I did I would probably botch it and wind up a vegetable. Couldn't overdose as I might screw that up, too. Hang myself? What in my apartment would hold me up?

I ran out of the apartment and walked from 75th street to the Everod baths on 28th street. For the next few hours I participated in a debauchery of orgies only this time sex didn't give me any relief as it had done in the past.

I walked out of the baths, into the morning's rising sun, tears running down my eyes, feeling hopeless, helpless and not knowing where to turn.

Obviously I didn't commit suicide. Instead, at 9 AM, I went into a phone booth, looked up the phone number for a local weight reduction club, called, and was told that the next meeting was that afternoon on 57th(?) street. I stayed in that phone booth until it was time for the meeting.

That Thursday afternoon my life was to change forever--both good and bad--from 1967 to 1977 it was all good. It started off by my going down to 167 pounds (Yes, I purposely aimed for that number) 9 pounds under my goal weight all in 4 months. At 31 I was a HUNK for the first time in my life (and man's fashion was changing at a rapid rate--and some were wild--I have the pictures for proof.) After reaching my goal I trained to become a lecturer for the organization and soon had some of the biggest classes (working on commission I was making good money plus I was still waiting on tables at a good restaurant but not eating at work that much which means the place was showing a better profit! :O) )

I met my next lover while I was training to be a lecturer and we were soon to move to another state and start a franchise. As Director Of Operations I was the 'front man'--I became a big fish in a small pond--a STAR--doing radio/TV/newspaper interviews--traveling around the country giving open meetings. The money was piling up for the business and me--I had a new Cadillac--a beautiful townhouse--traveled to Hawaii, the South Pacific Islands, New Zealand, Australia, South America, Mexico, Vancouver, across Canada--took a 4 week vacation every year--was honored, feted, admired and had 'groupies' :o)---BUT

I had lost my weight, was a charismatic, hunky, well known personality (and was modest, in case you didn't notice!) and, yet, losing weight hadn't changed my fundamental problems. To do that I went into therapy--Transactional Analysis--which was to change my life more than losing weight.

While the business side between me and my lover soared the personal side sank. The more I grew up the less he could handle it but, for a change, the weight stayed constant. When we parted as lovers things were going okay and then I met my next lover and all Hell broke out. We went through a notorious 'divorce', involving courts, employees and our customers. People felt they had to pick sides and many friendships ended while others became stronger.

I was, also, becoming disillusioned with the parent organization as they started changing a successful diet and becoming more commercial, now selling foods in stores nationwide that they had no choice but to allow on their diet. They were, also, reported to have only a 2-3% success rate with their major business now being returning people.

It was time for me to open my own weight loss business for a number of reasons:1) I had a better way to lose weight 2) I had a BIG following 3) I had to earn a living and 4) most important, I had to keep in the public eye in order to keep my weight off. I know I was looked at, observed, anytime I was in public to see if I had gained weight.

A lot would change in the next 5 years.

In 1976 I opened "Our Weigh" with 5 other people from the former business--we had a smash opening (including 'spies' from my exes organization--nice guy that I am I didn't make them join!) The business took off faster and better than I had even expected and the decade of my thinness (1967-1977) came to a great end.

I had ten years--probably the best ten years of my life, with a few minor exceptions. I had come from Yankee land to be a Southerner--I was part of a great business venture--I had traveled beyond my wildest dreams--I had thrown a Leap Year birthday party to celebrate my 10th birthday by having an all night affair for 300 people at the Hilton hotel--I had worked on myself to understand myself (with the bonus that my therapist thought I would be great joining him) better and did--I had saved money (Me? Save money? Unheard of!)--learned how to drive and owned a white Cadillac convertible--was well known, respected and admired--and being gay, Jewish and a Yankee I was whole heart-idly accepted by the whole community--and I had opened a successful business--yes, there were 'bumps' in the road--I had ended a relationship that was finished in court--lost some friends--then again I entered another relationship that was very exciting--unfortunately I found a new 'diet'--I discovered that if I drank a little too much I would get very hyper and go to the dance bars and dance my butt off--at least 5 pounds worth by the next morning--of course that it all came back by the next day didn't mean anything--I wasn't aware that I was already, and/or becoming, an alcoholic but, still had it under control. Most important (to me) was that for 10 years I WAS THIN! (Not thinner, but thin--hey, I squeezed into a pair of size 32 trousers--alright, maybe only for a second or two, but I did it! Considering my diaper may have been a size 34 is beside the point :o)

As a side bar, since that Thursday in March in 1967 I have kept (and still do) a record of what I have every Thursday, every week, every year. Obsessive about my weight? Yes, and it was just starting.

Then the second decade started.

In 1978 I lost my latest lover after 3 years--I found out that he was using me or so I thought--my weight started to fluctuate (up)--my drinking was increasing--I totaled my convertible (I was sober that night)--I was having indiscriminate sex and came down with hepatitis--and, for the first time, I was alone on New Year's Eve.

1979 started the complete collapse of my life as I had known it. The business was going down the drain (no, not because of my drinking) as I was burnt out, frustrated seeing my 'prize' weight losers failing, (okay, I know it was/is their decision but I felt I wasn't giving enough or as much as I use to), but more because I was being too 'good', too 'fair' to my 'partners' and employees (that's another story.)

In June of 1979 I started looking for a buyer for the business, also facing the fact that I would have to leave a city I had come to love--unless you were black and/or a woman you couldn't get a job as a waiter and continuing in the weight field wasn't an option. I had lost a lot of money but still had some of a stash. Feeling I had no choice I prepared to move to Fort Lauderdale.

I did have a positive attitude about life in general. I knew the decisions I had made, good or bad, were made by me and I was responsible for them whereas before I would have blamed everyone and everything.

The BIG problem was my weight--at any one time I was from 5-15 pounds over my goal but I 'carried it well'. On July 28th, 1979 I got in a u-haul and started south to Florida. A couple of friends would drive my station wagon (don't ask) down a couple of weeks later.

The next 21 years would be a wild coaster ride--weight and other wise.