How a Food Critic Lost 121 Pounds

So 12 years ago I was at the apex of my career as a TV and radio food critic in Austin. Ratings were strong and I was having a grand time. The problem was that I took my job – and the requisite eating that went with it – very seriously and I was closing in on weighing a ton. Well, not literally a ton, but too damn much to be sure.

And of course as the weight crept on I was making allowances. It’s amazing how you can fool yourself when you’re gaining weight. You buy a lot of loose-fitting clothes like sweats and of course Dockers expansive shorts and pants.

You watch as the shirt sizes escalate from XL to 2XL, 3XL the and then straight to 5 or 6XL. You rationalize the enormity of these garments because of the psychological lift you get when you try them on and they don’t feel tight. Then you make sure to never have your picture taken next to people leaner than yourself which basically means almost anybody. And always blame the scale when you weigh yourself. Something’s wrong with it. I would always tell the person weighing me that I’d weighed myself at home that morning and I’d weighed less. And of course it’s because you had your shoes on. And they had to weigh at least a few pounds, if not much more. I’d even take my wallet and keys out of my pocket before getting on the scale. And for some unfathomable reason, I’d actually hold my breath while the scale was calibrating. I made the shoe excuse on a regular basis out of the conviction that my 2-3 lb shoes actually made a huge difference. Nod your head if you’ve ever done that.

By then I’d adopted the desperate deceptions so characteristic of fat foodies. I fully believed you could eat unlimited amounts of sugar-free cookies. Then along came sugar-free chocolates courtesy of Russell Stover. I mean, if they could take the sugar out of Coke, they could do it with chocolate and cookies, right? So you rationalize. I’d always been big-boned or “husky” (the operative word used by moms with fat kids) as a teenager. So that a lot of my food critic bulk was readily explainable – at least to those who chose to listen.

But what the husky excuse was masking was a total dysfunction with regard to anything even remotely resembling healthy eating while growing up (even as a child I had an almost insatiable craving for donuts). And like most die-hard fatties, I hung on till the very end until deception and reality ultimately crossed paths. Then one day after I’d been doing the restaurant show for seven years, I went into a Big and Tall Man’s shop (they really should be called Big and Fat Men’s shops) to buy a pair of my favorite Tallia Italian slacks. The salesman asked what my waist size was and I quickly said, oh, 56”. (At a point not too few years prior to that past it had been a 48 and I thought that was good.)

He then wanted to measure my waist and I instantly declined because I didn’t want to face the irrefutable evidence of the tape measure. He nodded and then brought out the one pair of size 56 pants they had. Of course, they were real pants, not the expanding waist types that I’d been buying all along during the course of my self-delusional weight-gaining journey And the 56 pants didn’t come close to buttoning. The sales guy immediately suggested letting the slacks out which is another euphemism for turning a pair of 56 pants into size 58.

At that point, I’d broken out into a cold sweat. I walked out of the store in a daze – my last act was trying a size 58 belt which was also too much too small. That Monday I broke down and went to see my Austin-based endocrinologist. Dr. Tom Blevins. He had diagnosed me as prediabetic the year before and given me a rather stern lecture. And of course, I’d done nothing about it nor did I really listen. As I walked into his office the look on his face spoke volumes. “Rob, please step onto the scale!” My God he’d mentioned the most mortal of my enemies, THE SCALE, and there it was – before I had a chance to take the shoes off and take the keys and wallet out I was up on the cruel, unforgiving flat surface and the digital device was gyrating calculating an actual weight. And there the dreaded reading was: 427 pounds – absurdly more than the fairly fit 275 I was when I’d taken a raft trip down the Colorado River with my buddy Bill about 15 years earlier.

I felt like I’d been gut-punched by The Rock. And the weight wasn’t even the worst part. Then came the bloodwork. Dr. Blevins came back in and he wasn’t at all happy. He handed me the report and went over it with me. First was the A1C ( a three-month rolling average of your blood glucose). A score above 7.0 is considered out of range. Mine was 11.1 – completely off the charts! My blood was a reddish yellow in color, reflecting the far-too-high triglyceride score of over 500! As the bad numbers washed over me I realized that all l the gourmet dinners I’d consumed over the past ten years and the out-of-control snacking I’d done had taken their toll on me.

And there I was – a fully vested and totally morbid Type 2 diabetic!! But Tom Blevins, brilliant doctor and classy guy that he is, put his arm around my shoulder. “Rob, “ he said evenly, “this is not a death sentence.” Then he looked me right in the eye. “ We can beat this.” And then amazingly, a wink. “But this time you have to take my advice, and do what the hell I tell you to!”

He first recommended a class at a local hospital taught by a dietitian. It was not a class on how to lose weight – Lord knows I’d gained and lost hundreds of pounds on every diet imaginable. This was a class on helping diabetics understand their mortal enemy – carbohydrates. The first session was eye-opening. Most of the people in the room had more than a few extra pounds. And all were Type II diabetics. I should point out that Type I diabetes is a genetic disease where the pancreas cannot produce a sufficient amount of insulin to regulate the body’s ability to normalize blood sugar levels. It has been called Juvenile Diabetes because it often appears in the pre-teen years.

Type II diabetes, also known as adult-onset, typically occurs because of poor dietary habits and usually goes along with morbid obesity and lack of consistent exercise (and that was me) The instructor then dropped a bomb on the class. She held up, of all things a bag of Russell Stover sugar-free chocolates and asked us if we’d tried them. More than a few hands were raised, albeit tentatively. But I felt as if she’d peered into my soul. I had on more than one occasion devoured an entire bag of them.

But what came next was even more upsetting. She held the bag up and then next to it another personal fav – a snickers bar – and said that she’d rather see me eat one regular Snickers than a bag of Russell Stivers sugar-free chocolates.

My entire sugar-free delusion had been blown. And as I learned about carbs and how some (particularly white potatoes, bread, and pasta) break down almost immediately into glucose that literally races into your blood. And that if something came in a box, it was likely full of carbs (and sodium as well). The class was by far the best thing that Tom Blevins had recommended. I learned how to properly check my blood glucose levels and how the numbers should look after fasting and several hours after a meal. And I learned that exercise, particularly aerobic workouts that elevate the pulse rate, could actually decrease blood glucose levels.

So I got myself a really good stationary bike and positioned it in the corner of the master bedroom. I even put a sign on it: USE ME. And so I began. Slowly at first at a low level of resistance and RPMs with a goal of 20 minutes or more. Then I moved up to higher resistance and started peddling faster. The bike had different workouts preprogrammed where you could choose from hills, gradual inclines, and sprint modes. I remember very well the first time I reached 30 minutes. To my surprise, I had actually broken a sweat. Gasping, I got off the bike and went into the kitchen to check my blood sugar and was amazed to see a reading of 98–far better than the morning’s reading of 166.

The bike and my blood sugar readings soon became regular habits. And I made dietary changes as well. Proteins, fats, and carbs with a low glycemic index (like sweet potatoes) became staples of my diet. I loved cheese and bacon and mushroom omelettes for breakfast and they fit the low-carb regime. Had to give up the white bagels and toast but after a time it wasn’t that hard to do. Luckily I’d always liked vegetables and spinach and broccoli along with cauliflower mashers (with butter) and salads with romaine and radicchio became a big part of my diet. And of course candy, cookies and ice cream were out. But I discovered that diet jello and whipped cream made a pretty fair substitute.

So my restaurant habits had to change as well. No basket of bread before dinner. But I rediscovered shrimp cocktail. And I got in the habit of ordering my bacon cheeseburger with mustard and mayo while removing the roll and eating it with a knife and fork. I found myself dining more on Japanese and Korean cuisine. (You could mix the beef bulgogi with Kimchi (their wonderful fermented cabbage) and you could always gorge on Bluefin sashimi.

I even found a low net carb pasta called Dreamfields. To my pleasant surprise, I was able to enjoy a bowl with some Parmesan cheese and butter without the resultant blood sugar spike. I dropped off a case at several of my favorite Italian restaurants so when I came in the chef would have some on hand. Six months of careful yet enjoyable eating and exercise passed. On any past diet, my biggest failure was weighing myself 8-10 times a day. But I kept my distance from the dreaded scale this time. It was hard. I steadfastly resisted the urge to hop on the scale.

Then one day I was going through my closet when I happened across a pair of slacks that had been retired to the “too tight” section. Out of curiosity and against my better judgment, I decided to try them on. As is the case with many fat people when they try on clothes, I of course sucked my belly in and gave a mighty jerk upward. The result startled me. The pants cleared the bulge of my gut and while snug, they were not ridiculously so. I sat down on the bed and immediately took them off as if they’d suddenly shrink, but over the next few days, I began to consider the fact that I might have actually lost some weight and I started looking forward to my next appointment with Blevins and the dreaded scale.

The appointment came soon and I got off the elevator anxious to see the results of my recent blood test and, of course, to weigh myself. The nurse showed me into the exam room where the scale stood there looming like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. So with my heart pounding rapidly I stepped up on the scale. I swallowed hard and forced myself to take a peek at the reading. And there it was: 378!! Could I have lost 49 pounds in six months? So the pants from the too-tight section were not a false alarm. Hallelujah!!!

Then Dr. Blevins walked in and he was smiling. He had the lab results and my glucose was 92, my triglyceride level was 150 and y A1C was 6.2, down from 11.1. I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt giddy with delight. And then Tom said, “So now what?”

So now what? I was momentarily stunned. So now what? “Well, “ I said, ”I got this far so I’ll just keep going!” And go on I did. I dropped another 45 pounds in the next six months and stayed with my dietary changes and my exercise bike. I kept reviewing restaurants and going out to dinner but I had turned the corner. And today, I weigh 306- down 121 pounds and holding steady. I now wear size 48 pants and shorts and 2Xl shirts. I do not require insulin and when the doctor refers to my Type 2 diabetes, he now adds “controlled by diet and exercise.“

So, if me – a guy whose entire life had been controlled by an obsessive relationship with food and dining out can do it – why the hell can’t you!?