The gloves have come off in the family weight loss challenge, and it isn’t pretty.
When my sister, Terry, first suggested that the women in my family use this summer to lose weight and get fit, I joined in. (Check out the “Biggest Loser” category in the right-hand column for more about the challenge.) I had no thought of personal gain. The cash money and valuable prizes to be awarded to the winner mean nothing to me. All I care about is being there to support and motivate my dear sisters, Mom and sister-in-law in their quest for better health.
Not all in my family are so noble.
I am shocked, nay, chagrined at the depths to which some of them are prepared to sink. Recent actions give new meaning to what was once just a limbo-contest query: how low can you go?
Let’s begin with my sister Mary Kay. As the oldest, she would be expected to set a good example for the rest of us, right? Yet she went to the extreme of having root canal surgery just to lose weight. She lost 3 pounds. 3 pounds, in less than 3 days! I’m not sure how much of that weight loss was actual tooth material, and how much was due to loss of appetite from pain.
That’s not playing fair. Excruciating pain is an appetite suppressant, which violates the spirit, if not the letter of the law of competition.
Mary Kay, I know this little tactic cost you almost $1,000, but maybe you should ask yourself a more important question: What price honor?
Even worse than Mary Kay’s underhanded move, was that perpetrated by my sister Libby.
It’s not enough that she chooses to undergo chemotherapy this summer, when we just so happen to have big money riding on the weight-loss challenge. Coincidence? You decide. As I’ve explained to every family member who would listen, that clearly gives her an unfair advantage, what with possible nausea and vomiting. No one else is willing to call her on it, though, because having cancer is like having a get-out-of-jail-free card. I wonder if they will all be so forgiving of her latest stunt.
Last week Lib visited Mackinac Island in our home state of Michigan. I was glad to hear she was getting out and about. If you’ve ever been to Mackinac, you know that the island is known for 3 things:
1) The Grand Hotel
2) Horse drawn carriages (no cars)
When I got home from work on Friday, I found a pound of deliciously decadent Mackinac Island fudge waiting in my mailbox like a coiled cobra, ready to strike at my meaty thighs.
I’m sure the post office sniffer-dogs do a great job finding drugs, explosives and such, but they clearly need more training in catching the truly dangerous stuff: Diet bombs.
I called my Mom to lodge a protest at these underhanded tactics, only to discover she was happily enjoying her souvenir pound of Murdicks Maple Walnut fudge. Instead of validating my outrage, she reminded me to send Lib a thank you note.
Like hell I will! This masquerade of generosity does not fool me; it is a clear case of diet sabotage.
When Lib was a baby I changed her diapers, played with her – I practically raised her. And how am I repaid? With an assortment box of Chocolate Macadamia Nut and Traverse City Black Cherry temptation, for the sweet love of the baby Jesus!
I guess the good thing is, now we all know where we stand in this thing. No more Ms. Nice Guy.
Release the dogs of war, and to the victor goes the spoils.