Obsessed: America's Food Addiction

by Mika Brzezinski

  I got a second opinion, and when that surgeon told me the hip had been worn down to “bone on bone,” I knew it was time. The soonest the doctor could schedule me for total hip replacement was February. I choked up when I told D’Mario about my impending surgery, sure that my plans to lose weight and meet Mika’s challenge were crushed. I should have known that he wasn’t going to let me drop out in despair. Instead he promised, “After that surgery, you’re going to lose even more weight. You’re just going to keep going, like a tiger let out of a cage.”

  D’Mario brought in a new trainer, Andy DeVito, who had experience in helping people recover from injuries and surgery. Andy spent several weeks prepping me for surgery, helping me strengthen the muscles around my hip and build strength in my upper body. It was another good match. Andy, too, was incredibly supportive and gracious. I asked him later about his impression of me, and he was very kind. “One of the first things I really noticed is your smile. Your energy was just so positive. I could see that you were working hard, and you were in a lot of pain, and I really appreciated the effort you were putting into this. I could see how hard it was for you to do the things most people take for granted, just being able to get up and down from the floor, get in and out of the car, or take a flight of stairs.”

  Andy is also a trained chef who specializes in healthy cooking, and he started coaching me on my eating. His dietary approach focused on reducing refined starches, processed foods, and alcohol. In their place he substituted lean protein, fiber, fruits, and vegetables, and kept telling me to drink a lot of water.

  I was getting stronger, but my weight wasn’t going down much, despite Andy’s help. I knew that keeping a food journal could help keep me honest and aware, but frankly, I was too distracted to do it. I wanted to believe D’Mario and Andy when they told me the impending surgery would be a short detour in my progress, and that I would eventually get back on the road to wellness and weight loss. But in my heart I wasn’t sure.

  Just after Valentine’s Day 2012, I got a shiny new titanium hip. Two hours after I was off the operating table, the nurses had me standing using a walker, and I took a few steps down the hall. At that moment, something just clicked in my head: I had been given a second chance, and I was going to make the most of it.

  The next day I learned that eleven laps around the joint replacement unit were equivalent to walking a mile—and I set my mind on doing two miles. I did, with the whole staff cheering me on as I passed the nurses’ desk again and again. I texted D’Mario and Andy with the good news.

  “That brought a tear to my eye, I was so happy,” said Andy. “When we’re working with people, we take it very personally. And when a client does well, it makes me feel good about myself, too.”

  At the hospital, there was a daily afternoon reception for patients and their families. I noticed that several of the patients having hips replaced were younger than me, and some of them were very lean. They had worn out their joints through tennis, skiing, martial arts, and other sports. In talking to them I felt some of my shame melting away. Maybe this would work out after all.

  I was out of the gym more than eight weeks, but Tom and I walked the halls of our condo building every day. At first I used a walker, then a cane, and eventually I was on my own. My friend Joan came and walked with me, giving me some security in those early days when I wasn’t too steady on my feet. An occupational therapist showed me I could climb stairs again and so I did, several times a day. The pain was easing, and I was enjoying the walking. It still wasn’t doing much for my weight, though. I had gone from 256 pounds at the beginning of my pact with Mika to about 248 by the time I was cleared by my surgeon to go back to the gym.

  As I was healing from the hip replacement, I had to follow certain precautions, but Andy found plenty of ways to challenge me during our workouts. He created an integrated program with point-specific, body-weight rehabilitation exercises, such as hip abductions, which I could do while lying on a bench. We also worked on functional body movements incorporating resistance bands and medicine balls and other exercises to correct my body alignment.

  For balance and lateral movement, we incorporated Pilates-based core and leg exercises and added boxing drills. We avoided getting down on the floor (a no-no in the early weeks of recovery) and instead focused on exercises I could do standing or lying on a bench. When we added elastic resistance bands around my ankles, I felt as though I had a sandbag weighing down my surgical hip whenever I did leg lifts. Andy promised that would get better, and it did. “I’ve always enjoyed puzzles, and when I look at the human body, it’s just a puzzle to me,” Andy said. “So my whole philosophy is looking at your body and saying, ‘What can we do to take care of this? We needed to strengthen the surgical area, help you regain your balance, and work at reducing the limp.’”

  Andy’s faith that we could fix this, and that I would improve, made all the difference.

  A few weeks into my recovery, I decided I needed another weight-loss plan. Akua Ba’s healthy eating guidelines weren’t dramatic enough for someone with so much weight to lose. The pounds were coming off too slowly. I needed a clean break: a way to change my bad habits, reduce portion sizes, and stop looking for that glass of wine every night. After all the diets I had tried and failed, I knew I needed more professional help and support.

  I did some research and found a body of compelling studies that told me what I already suspected: very low-calorie diets do work, but they are best when combined with behavior modification. A behavior modification program most likely to lead to a permanent lifestyle change should include nutrition education, advice for changing patterns of eating, training in self-awareness and assertiveness, and instruction in coping techniques.

  I turned to a program like that at the end of May. Offered as an alternative to bariatric surgery at the Hospital of Central Connecticut, the Take Off program limits food intake to 800 calories a day, taken in protein shakes, with a little fruit and some salad greens on the side. It’s a drastic approach, but I had a drastic problem. The Take Off program generally lasts twelve weeks, but I am still on it after six months. It requires weekly weigh-ins, weekly visits with a nurse and a doctor, and a series of twelve hour-long classes on nutrition and behavior modification. Just as it takes a village to raise a child, it also seems to take a village, or at least a sizable team, to help me meet Mika’s challenge.

  As I listened to the other patients in the Take Off classes, I realized that our struggles are very much the same, although some people weighed a hundred pounds more than I do. They are men and women, some younger and some older than I am. Several are a lot sicker. A few are limping because of bad knees or hips, and a couple are toting oxygen tanks. I wondered how they had overcome the discrimination they must have faced, but it wasn’t something we talked about. It’s good to be in their company, because it reminds me of where I am headed if I don’t lose the weight this time, and make it stick. I’ll never forget the week when the lecture described the relationship between obesity and diabetes. “How many of you are diabetic?” the lecturer asked. Nearly every hand in the room went up, except mine. At least I had dodged that bullet.

  The Take Off program has given me a chance to wipe the slate clean and to learn something new. And it’s working. Who wants a glass of wine after drinking protein shakes all day? I’m not hungry and the salad greens at night are fulfilling my desire to sit down with Tom at the end of the day and share a meal. As the weight falls off, I am really encouraged and excited.

  By the third week on the program, Take Off’s physician, Dr. Thomas Lane, cut my blood pressure medication in half. The next week, my blood pressure readings were still good. I was starting to see another impact of losing weight. Week after week, the weight loss has been steady, though shockingly slow for a diet this restrictive. Two pounds a week at most, and for several weeks in a row only half a pound. But as I leave the weekly sessions, often heading to the gym, I try to concentrate on where I was when Mika challenged m
e, and how much better I am doing now. That’s a lot more productive than dwelling on how much I still have to lose.

  By mid-July, Dr. Lane had taken me off blood pressure medication entirely. Yeah!

  When I begin to move beyond the Take Off program, I will also need to learn how to eat again. Over the long haul, cutting back on processed foods and eating more plant-based whole foods is clearly the way to go. I will also need to relearn what appropriate portion sizes are, something I had really lost track of in the last few years.

  By August, the other clients at the gym start noticing the change in me. One woman says, “You’re glowing.” She’s right, and it’s not the sweat. Andy has me boxing, and even though I am still a klutz, I am moving a lot better. Lateral movement, which was drastically inhibited by my hip pain, is so much better. I realize I am no longer afraid of falling. By mid-September I am down to 203 pounds. I’ve lost 40. I still have 35 more to go, and now Mika is upping the ante. She is redefining the challenge and telling me I should lose a total of 100 pounds! I might just do it.

  Meanwhile, I have been reminded that weight is about a lot more than dress size and how I look. My weight was stealing my life from me, piece by piece. Refocusing on health, instead of size and looks, has helped me recognize that I have to make a commitment for the long haul. That’s the only way.

  Dieting does not work. I know, you’ve read that before, but it’s really true. I should know, because that’s what I’ve done all my life. I dieted my way up to weighing 256 pounds. No more. This time I am remaking my life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT’S HOW YOU THINK

  MY STORY, WITH JOE SCARBOROUGH, DR. MARGO MAINE,

  DR. DAVID KATZ, CHRIS LICHT, GINA BARRECA,

  KATHLEEN TURNER, GAYLE KING, KATE WHITE,

  JENNIFER HUDSON, SUSIE ESSMAN

  To the outside world, Diane and I look as if we think entirely differently about food. I’m the one with the reputation as a thin, fit woman, the one always going on and on about the obesity epidemic; Diane’s struggles are a lot more obvious than mine. But as our stories have revealed, we are in many ways the same. When Diane talks about visiting a twenty-four-hour supermarket after finishing the late-night shift at the news desk and buying cookies, M&Ms, chips, and ice cream to eat later that night, I’m nodding. I’ve done that, too.

  I am still trying to find the discipline my mother valued so much. My body is healthier, but my head? Well, I am still working on that. At times I remain trapped in my thoughts of eating, and Diane does, too. Until we can spring that trap for good, there are going to be setbacks in our attempts to develop a wholesome relationship with food. That’s why it is so important not just to follow the stringent rules of a diet, but to make more fundamental changes in how you live—to change how you think, to overhaul what you eat and how you eat it, and to become physically active. We’ll talk about all that in the next few chapters.

  I am in awe of successful women who manage to be free of the tyranny of food. The ones who connect with everyone in a room, while I’m busy thinking about how I can connect with another platter of food. I go to parties and see successful women like Arianna Huffington or Sheryl Sandberg or the late Nora Ephron, and they look so comfortable with themselves, so in command of the room. Meanwhile, I’m wondering how I can get another appetizer brought over to me.

  There I am, in conversation with Walter Isaacson or Colin Powell, but my mind is so focused on those appetizers that I barely hear what they’re saying. Instead I find myself wondering, Where is that waiter with the mini hot dogs? My eyes are on Powell and I am nodding with fervent interest, but with my peripheral vision I’m looking for the waiter, and with my brain I’m wondering when he might show up. I keep on discussing the conflict in Syria as best I can, but by now I’m thinking that I might just walk back into the kitchen and get those damn mini hot dogs myself! Then my frustration turns to sadness, because I catch Arianna across the room. She also appears to be having a fascinating conversation, but I bet she is right there with her companion, not privately plotting a trip into the kitchen.

  Whether it is the sensory pull of those mini hot dogs or full-blown addiction, my thoughts can be totally distracting. That’s less likely to happen when I have had at least a modicum of sleep and am working a fairly predictable schedule. The pull is not as strong then, and I don’t overeat. If I get enough rest, I usually have enough stamina to keep my eating under control. Believe me, it takes a lot of mental effort.

  “Mika’s told the story about how she was fired from CBS on her thirty-ninth birthday. She thought that was the end of her career,” says Joe Scarborough. “She scratched and clawed her way back into the game, and then she decided she was going to take her health and her fitness and her body image to a whole new level. It was extraordinary watching her day in and day out sacrificing and suffering.”

  I’m not as able to maintain that sacrifice when exhaustion sets in, and that happens a lot in a day that begins with a 3:30 a.m. wakeup call. My demons come back to bite me, and I’m more likely to compensate for my rigid low-calorie diet by suddenly and swiftly scarfing down huge portions of food. Margo Maine says part of my problem is that when I’m exhausted I may actually need to eat more. My body is demanding more calories, she says, because “that’s what our bodies need at those times. Our bodies go into these kind of emergency states, and we need to let that happen.”

  As I learn to accept that, it becomes easier for me to ease up a bit and eat a little bit more fat, a few more carbs, a little more of the fuel I need to keep myself going. In the past, my approach has been to resist and resist that call, and then to suddenly break down and grab every morsel in sight.

  I am trying to think about the world more like Margo does. “I believe that our bodies are gifts we have to take good care of,” she says. “That means feeding them, not just restricting and being careful, but feeding and allowing them to enjoy life. Part of enjoying life is enjoying food to some extent.”

  More than a year after our infamous conversation on Long Island Sound, Diane and I are more convinced than ever that sharing our stories and providing support to one another are huge steps toward changing the way we think about weight and food. They have certainly brought us closer to each other. “We need to be able to have that dialogue, but the first thing we need to do is lay down the burden of blame and shame,” said obesity expert Dr. David Katz. “Until we do that, we as a nation are stuck at this impasse on obesity.”

  The first thing we need to do is lay down the burden of blame and shame.—David Katz

  Katz knows it is not easy to be candid, but he insists it is crucial. “It’s a good friend who will have that painful conversation with you, it really is. We need other people’s support and their skill sets in helping us.” That’s why I’ve made such a point of talking about obesity during Morning Joe, although our executive producer Chris Licht was horrified when I first started doing it. “I was afraid it was going to turn people off because no one wants to get lectured about their weight by someone who’s in such great shape,” admits Chris. “But Mika has earned that right. She works hard to be in shape and wants people to be healthier.”

  Those of us who can reach an audience, whether on television, in the classroom, or simply at the dinner table, have an obligation to talk straight to people who will listen to us. We shouldn’t be hiding from our own struggles, or denying the struggles of the people around us. Raising the issue of weight and insisting we deal with it together is an important contribution to changing our approach. That’s why Gina Barreca, a professor of feminist theory at the University of Connecticut, starts her speeches by announcing her age and weight. “This way, the listeners don’t have to sit there and try to do the math. Because we all know that women will look at a speaker wondering, ‘Is she older or younger than I am?’ and ‘What’s her dress size?’ Until they can figure these things out to their satisfaction, they aren’t entirely paying attention.

  “I tell them I
was born in 1957, that I weigh a hundred and fifty-three pounds. I explain that in an Armani I’m a size twelve, while at Dot’s Dress Barn I’m a size twenty-two because, as women already know, the more you pay for your clothes, the smaller the size you’ll be.”

  It makes sense to me. Women are always eyeing one another, so let’s share what we’re thinking about our own bodies and the bodies of people around us. That’s what Diane and I are doing, and it’s working.

  Some women seem able to take a much more relaxed attitude toward food than me, even if they have some weight they would like to lose. I especially like the way the amazing actress Kathleen Turner thinks. She knows as well as anyone about the demands on women to be thin, especially if they are in the public eye, yet she seems comfortable with a little extra weight on her frame. That can’t be easy for someone who started her film career thirty years ago playing a siren in Body Heat. Some fans still expect her to look the same way. Her response: “Yeah, I know, I looked like that. I don’t anymore. Okay? Get over it.”

  At the age of forty-eight, Kathleen played Mrs. Robinson on stage in The Graduate, and in one scene wore nothing but high heels. “For a whole twenty-two seconds,” she added. “I think one critic said I looked like a football player. I’m like, ‘I’m sorry? I mean, eight shows a week is not for sissies, guys.’”

  After The Graduate had a successful run in London, Kathleen resisted taking the show to Broadway because she knew the nude scene would get a kind of attention she was not sure she wanted. As she was considering film options, she read a script that described the main character as “thirty-seven, but still attractive.” She was so angered by that kind of narrow view of aging and women’s bodies that she called the producers of The Graduate and said, “We’re going to Broadway. I was forty-eight and it was, essentially, a real ‘fuck you’—and I was very happy I did it.”