C H A P T E R 1
Diet Another Day

The last time I weighed what I was supposed to weigh was in 1969. I remember it well. It was New Year's Eve, and that was the night I gave up smoking.

Three days later, I was in Israel, on the border with Syria, covering a continuing border war. We were in foxholes, and someone had launched mortars toward the Israeli positions. As the explosions came way too close for comfort, the other journalists with me were convinced we were going to die. Suddenly, behind me, two Israeli soldiers appeared, and were handing out disgusting French cigarettes. Two of the other journalists, guys who had never smoked, accepted them and lit up. When the soldiers got to me, I attempted to decline politely, saying I was "trying to quit." The war seemed to stop for about fifteen seconds while everyone looked at me incredulously, as if to say, "You're trying to quit? We're all about to die anyway. Take the cigarette!"

I didn't. We lived. And I haven't had a cigarette since. OK, so much for the good news.

But from the morning of January 6, 1970, when I returned home, I was on Oreo patrol. Snack food. Junk food. You name it, I went for it. And it showed. If it's true that you are what you . . . overeat, then I was the pie piper.

I became obsessed with certain "foods." I had an obscene relationship with Diet Pepsi, drinking up to twenty cans a day. I found a candy connection online, in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, and ordered those red Swedish fish candies in bulk. I didn't just stop there: Around my office you'd always find peanut M&M's, Snickers, and Root Beer Barrels.

In 1987, I went on a serious diet supervised by a doctor, and I lost 51 pounds. Then I started traveling for Good Morning America for seven years, and the weight came right back -- and then some.

Despite all good intentions, no matter what shape you're in, or whatever your exercise program, travel is the great enemy. The minute you leave home, your routine takes an immediate vacation. And as more and more people travel, it's becoming obvious that obesity is no longer an American disease. It has become a global pandemic. And as obesity rates soar, so has diabetes. In 1985, diabetes afflicted 30 million people worldwide. A little more than a decade later, that figure had escalated to 135 million. The good news -- one could argue -- is that as you are reading this, about 100 million Americans are on a diet. The bad news: Our lifestyles, coupled with our increased travel schedule, work against us winning the weight war.