A Renewal of Our Resolve to Scale Down
At 6:30 a.m Saturday dozens of people with--shall we say politely--pounds to spare began arriving for what would soon turn into the busiest morning of the year at resolution central, a local Weight Watchers meeting.
“Almost every single person in my office said their New Year’s resolution was to lose weight,” said Heather Winnin, 29. “I figured I better get here early to get a chair.”
On this last day of the first week of the new year, the time had come to make good on one of America’s favorite promises. You know it, your pants know it and the surgeon general has just issued a directive: LOSE 10 POUNDS, at least.
Most of the resolute arrived in loose sweats and baggy shirts for one of four packed, back-to-back meetings in Pasadena. All seemed focused on their 2002 dreams.
“I don’t want to be a fat mom anymore,” said Deena Maltox, 28, of Monrovia.
“I’m going to lose 15 pounds by April,” pledged Pamela Muzyka, 30, of Pasadena, “and then buy my wedding dress.”
They promised that sometime in 2002 they will climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded and walk without their inner thighs rubbing. They envisioned a year that will bring a return to pleated pants, the freedom to cross their legs while in a sitting position and the stamina to run alongside their children.
Meeting leader Sheila Montoya--”I lost 148 pounds and have kept it off for five years”--had braced herself for the crowds, sipping water while shouting her message of weight-loss determination. By the end of the sessions, 401 people had weighed in--about 100 more than on a normal Saturday--and 60 first-time members had signed on.
“Y’all ready? New beginning, new year? How many of you made weight loss your resolution?” Hands shoot skyward.
John C. Norcross, a professor of psychology at the University of Scanton in Pennsylvania, studies trends in American New Year’s resolutions. For 20 years, he said, weight loss has led the list.
“It’s become a tradition,” Norcross said, explaining that a widespread obsession with body image, combined with increasing ranks of obese Americans, fuels the desire. Only last month, the U.S. surgeon general reported that 62% of Americans are at least overweight, if not downright obese, compared with 48% in 1980.
By June, Norcross said, only about 40% of those who make resolutions will still be sticking to them. “All the studies are a little bit different, but they all say that most people will fail.”
That’s just the kind of bummer fact that the new diet inductees refused to let ruin their morning. People like Karen O’Connor want to forget the iced-cookie scene of last week and focus anew.
“There I was the day after New Year’s, trying to make a good start, throwing away all the cookies,” she said. “And as I’m doing it, I’m putting them in my mouth.”
Montoya and other Weight Watchers leaders said the first Saturday in January is always like a big reunion. “People I have not seen in years show up this week,” Montoya said.
Raffaella Yates, the leader of a popular Laguna Niguel meeting, managed similar standing-room-only crowds there Saturday. She told her members not to make weight loss resolutions because “they’re a set of expectations that are going to fail.”
Norcross, the resolution expert, agrees. He counsels his patients to turn resolutions to lose weight into goals for a healthier diet. Then, even eating a carrot can be a measure of success.
The five-vegetable-a-day issue provoked grumbles from some Pasadena members.
“I’m getting kind of sick of salads,” said one woman.
“It’s not my natural tendency to have so many vegetables around me,” added another.
Here’s where group support kicked in--change the subject to something positive, like a new pot pie recipe.
“It’s really thick, has a lot of vegetables inside and what looks like a biscuit on top,” said Eileen Baumgartner, 53, who boasted of freezing four pies.
Veteran member Marla Provencio attracted much attention with her story. There she sat, petite in her fitted black jeans and ribbed turtleneck. She has lost 67 pounds, but recently struggled with the temptation of a Krispy Kreme doughnut.
“They brought ‘em in the office again. I knew I had to face this. So I took half a doughnut and felt like I was part of society again,” she said. “I counted it in the program. It felt so good.”
Another veteran, an undersea diving enthusiast, told how she finally fit into an XL-size wetsuit for the first time. “I didn’t have to have it custom-made.”
Weight Watchers, along with other weight loss programs and fitness clubs, cashes in on January resolutions with high-profile ad campaigns and cut-rate memberships.
Nearly everyone returning to the Pasadena meeting after their self-imposed holiday hiatus clutched a discount coupon.
“I got this flier and it was like a sign,” said one woman. “I knew it was time.”
The modern self-improvement-based resolution is rooted in ancient Roman times when workers would offer resolutions for good conduct to the god Janus, said Norcross.
The two-faced Janus was the patron of beginnings and endings; hence the month January.
Indeed, for 38-year-old Stacy Sanchez, December marked the end of pastrami sandwiches, burritos and burgers.
“Christmas was ham, not activities,” she said.
“I’m stuffed, I’m tired of eating,” she said while filling out her new membership form. “I’ve actually been looking forward to this.”
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Times staff writer Tina Borgatta contributed to this story.
