No cookies, and smiles times (day 90)

In June, I ended my Peace Corps West Africa service and returned to America with one goal in mind: to eat my way through Dr. Phil’s Weight Loss Challenge “what not to eat” section. I found the book in a discarded “Books for Africa” box. (Seriously, who donates a weight loss book to Africa!?!? Twit.) In my Peace Corps country, Republique Islamique Mauritanie (RIM), fat women are considered beautiful. Young girls there are sometimes sent to “fat camps,” not to lose but to gain weight. They lounge under tents in the desert and drink fatty camel’s milk and eat sugary dates.

As another Peace Corps volunteer noted, food in the RIM is “oily, starchy, bland or a combination of all three. And when I say oily, I mean you grab a handful of rice, and oil is literally dripping and oozing out of your hand. Most plates either consisted of rice or some form of couscous, with red meat.” My host families were very generous and wanted me to be “beautiful.” They’d yell, “Eat, eat! What’s wrong with you? Are you sick? Don’t you like the food?” I became adept at eating great quantities of food. I ate soggy goat parts for months on end, and then when I went to the big city I applied my newfound skill to eating a whole pizza in one sitting. I yearned for the day when I could put memories of sheep’s stomach (much like a wet gray washcloth) behind me and eat cheese with abandon.

I didn’t exercise for two years. Saharan temperatures of up to 130f/54c by 10am sometimes made it impossible for me to do anything but lay around and sweat. The combination of carbs, greasy foods, no exercise, and giardia (basically a typical American lifestyle taken to the extreme) left me feeling absolutely miserable when I returned to America. Still, I lovingly annotated my Dr. Phil page, adding notes like “with ranch,” or “add cheese” or “more pie.” I was ready to eat America, but for one thing.

Throughout my service, I listened to Zen is Stupid as I walked through the vegetable market in Atar, dodging donkeys and letting the curses waft over my head. “Curse my life and burn my father in Hell? And a good day to you too, sir!” I found Gwen and Patrick to be two sweet, down-to-earth people. (Someday I would like to treat you both to a not-beer and an un-sandwich. Green tea and broccoli maybe? I can use my ZiS refund money!) I was curious when I heard about the PCP and was extremely happy when Patrick agreed to work with me to set up the plan.

I protested a lot at first. For example, “not my cheese, dear god, not my cheese!” and “but Patrick, I can’t cook!” I was planning to live the PCP on frozen broccoli and diet pizza. Patrick wounded my pride a tiny bit (cooking is TOO rocket science) so I learned how to cook salmon, tuna, chicken, broccoli, squash, spaghetti, apples, yam fries, sauces, green beans, lean steak, various forms of eggs, kale, quinoa, collard greens, brussels sprouts, and zucchini. (I can steam like a champ!) And I’m still learning more recipes.

My weight dropped from 164 (74.55 kilos) to 151 pounds (68.64 kilos). I put on some respectable baby muscles. I worked out more consistently than I ever have in my whole life (and learned how to work out). I learned how to eat properly and stopped craving cake every hour. My geographic tongue went away. I learned some cool stuff about the body, and want to learn more. I set up a daily meditation practice. Most of all, I had fun!

I enjoyed reading everyone’s blogs, from all PCP groups past and present. Congratulations on completion! E, Anshu and Mike, it’s no small thing to keep up the PCP while holding down a full-time job and to keep coming up with new recipes, biking insane distances, and working out late at night. I’m really proud to have you in my group and to see the great changes you’ve gone through. And keep up the good work ladies below us! I am very thankful to Chen and Patrick. My life is significantly better because I did the PCP. I don't know any blessings in Arabic, so bless you in American! Anyone looking to do the PCP, if you can, do it.

I wanted to end the PCP more auspiciously than working at a sandwich job. I wanted to announce that I got the job that I applied to, but I won’t find out for another month if I did or not. (Am curious for the scoop, P) I was mad at myself for having a less than perfect superset week on the PCP. But then I stopped and realized that I’m o.k. with ending on a less than auspicious note, because life isn’t always going to be favorable to the PCP, and I want to take the PCP with me throughout my life. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to be in Peak Condition. I want to lose 30 more pounds (13.64 kilos), build some more muscle, and a yoga course would certainly be nice. And wouldn’t it be infinitely neat to be able to do something like this someday?



I saw a giant picture of Kara Goucher in the airport last week. I'd like to think she'd be proud.

My advice to new PCPers? Don’t eat broccoli before you jumprope. Trust me on this one.