Philanthropists Wanted

Okay, so no one really cozied up to my Greatest Weight-loss plan. No great surprise really; it is the eating season and the only real solution for overeating is to get Pondimin put back on the market. (Phen-fen) I'm thoroughly convinced that lobbyists representing all the "best-weight-loss-program-ever" companies (Eat Your Way Thin, Walk Your Way Thin, Cry Your Way Thin, Wiggle Your Way Thin, etc.) convinced our government to remove Pondimin from the market. If you've had any experience with Pondimin you know what I'm talking about. You took it once a day and presto, you no longer had an overeating problem. Pretty much the same with Seldane; you took it once a day and presto, no more allergies. Too much money is raked in by the weight-loss competitors and competition is the backbone of our economy, right? Fifteen thousand companies vie for your dollars and you go broke buying the best plans, options, deals, but the best and only is no longer available.


So that's when I decided to shop for a philanthropist. This idea came to me after reading Fortune's list of the 400 most wealthy Americans and a story about Charles Feeney who gave $350 million to Stanford to build a new technology department on an island off NYC. Feeney doesn't own a home or a car. Apparently he just accumulates more and more wealth and gives it away. When I investigated the possibility of getting in touch with Feeney I found one of the Google answers was, "You don't get in touch with Feeney, he gets in touch with you." If he doesn't have a home or a car I wondered if he owns a phone, nonetheless this answer took me 'round to one of the many philanthropy associations in America. I began to read the criteria for submissions and instructions on how to submit and I thought, "Hell, if I had that much energy, drive and ambition I wouldn't be begging for funds." I need a philanthropist who just likes me or likes taking chances on unknowns. In other words, I need a lottery ticket with a winning guarantee.

But since that's not gonna happen I've been counting my blessings and trying to increase my energy level, but it gets harder once you pass the 60 mark. Ugh. I am incredibly blessed, however. My most recent blessing came in the form of cash from my incredibly generous and loving friend, Carol. It was quite an unexpected Christmas gift and brought about immediate tears. She also informed me I'm on her list of 10 recipients (including her husband, Jay) who will receive part of the payout from the $172 million lottery ticket they bought. So I got that goin' for me. Carol and Jay are living proof that giving puts you on the receiving list, big time. Love those guys.

It is fun to talk about what you'd do with that kind of money, but more fun to have it. So I'll continue to shop for philanthropists to help me get my book published or fund my other artistic whims--and pray. But, Katie, you know I'm still waiting for that guy across the street to walk over here with my $10 million. Little inside joke there.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night, especially philanthropists.

Best Weight-Loss Plan Ever!

Boy, if that won't garner readers nothing will.

After I ate my bread and peanut butter this morning so that I didn't have to take my pills on an empty stomach, I eyed a partial tray of brownies. There was longing and lust in my heart. These weren't just any old brownies; they were gourmet brownies, each covered with a different mouth-watering goo--cream cheese, caramel, fudge. And because I've been feeling sorry for myself lately I decided I was entitled to fulfill my momentary heart's desire.

Let me back up: I've suffered from a life-long struggle with over-eating and total disinterest in strenuous physical activity. I was the kid who was last choice when picking team members and I NEVER cared. Usually I was too busy thinking about what I'd do in art class or what my mom packed for my lunch. She may have been many things bad, but she was a good lunch-packer. She actually put lettuce and mayo on my cheese sandwiches and that was in the 50's when few people in our class new what lettuce was.

My struggle with dieting was an off-and-on business. If I was interested in a particular boy I'd quit eating; if that particular boy dumped me for someone thinner I ate whatever and whenever I liked--screw him. As I got older I cultivated friends who didn't hold my fat against me, or if they did they didn't mention it. When I first heard the term "yo-yo dieter," I thought, "Wow, I need to president of that club.

So after I ate the brownie this morning I said, "Now why the hell did I do that?" I had no good answer. But I did think about this: one of the reasons I hate dieting is that it usually makes me sad, and I don't need something else to make me sad right now. Dieting makes me sad because good junk food makes me happy. It's as simple as that. Good junk food makes me as happy as getting smashed made me until I accepted my alcoholism as a reality. Bummer. Why me; right? I suppose the only answer would be, "Why not me." Why did my sister have MS? Why did my brother die 20 years ago? Why does my daughter live on the other side of the country, dammit? It is what it is. But I did have a few unusual thoughts after I ate that brownie, e.g., "I ate it. It's gone. Now what?" I mean, the only way I could have that satisfaction again would be to continue stuffing my face, and I can't do that because the deliciousness would never quit and eventually I'd become so stuffed I'd throw up.

Now, my plan won't work for bulimics, and I'm truly sorry about that. Eating disorders are a serious problem for many of us and I am not making light of them here. But after I ate the brownie I analyzed my sensations and emotions. My first thought was that if I could just hold on to the memories of those sensations I'd never have to eat another brownie. I mean, why would you? Dieting and hypnosis are structurally negative. They're based on "don'ts." "Look into my eyes; you don't like brownies and ice cream; you don't want brownies and ice cream; brownies and ice cream over-indulgence make you a social outcast." or, "Don't eat more than 1 serving. Yes 1 serving is laughable when we're talking about something so indescribably delicious, but . . . well, tough shit." So I thought, what if when I encountered a brownie or a carton of Ben & Jerry's Boston Cream Pie (fabulous, by the way), I vividly dredged up the memory instead of actually reliving the experience? I've been testing out my theory and so far it seems to be working.

All right! Who's with me?

I'll keep anyone posted who's interested in my progress.