This Just In!
By Lake Stevens, Man About Town
August 24, 2005
Summer is Fattening
I recently eased out of my 100% imported Tibetan silk pajamas (hand loomed by the same artisan
who made the pajamas for the Dalai Lama before his exile) and into my favorite pair of Ralph Lauren dungarees. My
mind was still a bit foggy after a night of Kumamoto oysters and sake with "the wife" and Tom Selleck. Who knew he
could drink like that? I recommended that he grow his mustache back like when he was in Magnum P.I. I do
love a man with a full head of hair...especially one named Magnum. It gives me the shivers every time. I was so
occupied with thoughts of Tom's silken chest hair that I didn't realize my fingers were still fumbling with the button
fly of my dungarees. I was shaken rudely from my reverie when I realized the problem at hand: I could not fasten the top button!
There must be some mistake.
I angrily turned to my valet, who occasionally helps me dress when Javier is off impregnating someone
or whatever he does when he takes a "personal" day. Before the valet could compose his face into the emotionless mask I
expect The Help to wear at all times (it allows me to forget the twelve kids he probably has stuffed into a single room
efficiency in Reseda), a small, but perceptible, giggle escaped his lips. I tried again to close up the jeans,
but did no better the second time. Another glance at the valet was rewarded with another little giggle.
"Roberto, is this some sort of sick Spic joke to humiliate me? How dare you switch my favorite dungarees with
these impostors!" That got his attention. He knows I mean business whenever I use his given name instead of the usual "boy."
"No, Señor Lake. Es your favorito pair of jeans."
The dirty liar! I discarded the dungarees and immediately grabbed a crisply ironed trouser that Marta had readied
for me in preparation for my afternoon sail with Kevin and Kyra. This pair also refused to fasten. I ordered Roberto
to strip me naked and called for the bathroom scale. My mouth hung open in horror when I saw the numerical evidence
for myself. I, Lake Stevens, had gained weight! I dare say I could almost be considered "chubby." Of course
"the wife" chose this moment to return from "her" yoga lesson. How could "she" be so thin and lithe when I was
facing the terrible reality of a...no, I couldn't say it. I despised "her" more than anything as "she" mopped up the
faintest sheen of perspiration from her upper lip. "Skinny bitch!" I yelled as "she" left for "her" sauna.
The truth of how this happened slowly unfolded as I waited for The Help to fetch my kimono (at least I knew that
would fit). First, I had been forced to fire Gunnar Peterson, Trainer of the Stars, when I caught him getting too
chummy with "the wife" on the elliptical machine in our home gym. "She's" still harping that no one had been able to trim
down "her" saddlebags like Gunnar did. I told "her" that cutting back on the shortbread cookies and White Russians "she" consumes in front of
The Hallmark Channel every night couldn't hurt either. With my hectic schedule of interviews, photo shoots
and hairdressing appointments, I never found time to enlist another man to work me over and mold my body.
As I tied the kimono sash around my middle, I decided that the bigger culprit is the season itself. In addition
to white wine spritzers and simple suppers, summer is consumed by frozen custard, hand-crafted gelato, loganberry pies
topped with spiky peaks of meringue, Australian-style barbequed steaks...well, you get the idea. I suppose the weeks I
spent summering with Paris and Paris in Greece didn't help either. All that goat's milk! I guzzled it by the gallon.
Now I faced the uphill battle of transforming my figure back into fighting shape. Normally I would just ask my doctor for a few bottles of those
fantastic yellow pills he keeps padlocked in his garage. Even when I pounded on his door at three AM four nights
in a row, he refused to give me any more; he claims the feds are getting suspicious. I think the good doctor just
wants them all for himself. I can't really blame him -- those little vitamins were a godsend. I dropped weight
like a Sudanese in a refugee camp and still had enough energy to shop, paint the spare bedroom, attend a marathon
12-hour Kabbalah awakening and rearrange all the furniture on the back terrace.
Since my doctor wouldn't help me, I was forced to resign myself to losing weight the old fashioned way: by dieting and laxatives.
I have experimented with numerous diets over the years, always in search of that illusive 32-inch waist and a body deserving of worship.
All have fallen short.
The Grapefruit Diet
I bought exclusive rights to a grapefruit harvest from an organic Florida grove when I began this diet. Despite
the delicious burst of fruit juice I enjoyed at every meal, I failed to lose weight. Why didn't anyone tell me
that using it as a mixer in my imported Polish potato vodka wouldn't help me drop the pounds? How else was I to
stomach that much grapefruit? (Actually, I did loose a little weight after I became so drunk by mid-morning
that I passed out and didn't eat a bite for the rest of the day and most of the next.)
Cabbage Soup Diet
Seven days of cabbage soup. I had to cancel my colonics; they failed to be necessary after seven days of cabbage soup.
Lulu at the homeopathic salon "the wife" and I pop into every now and again promised that I could lose weight by
consuming unnatural amounts of apple cider vinegar. I stopped once I began to take on that sour smell of senior citizen and urinals.
I also flirted with the Pritikin, Blood Type, South Beach and Zone
diets before starting a torrid affair with Dr. Atkins. I ate nothing but foie gras for weeks and still did not lose weight.
"The wife" told me I needed to eat steak and no vegetables or breads. That meant no tomato juice in my morning
Bloody Mary! Then I read about the effects of Atkins on the body. Ketosis was caused by the build-up of ketone in the body,
which is the same thing as acetone. I was tempted to just drink a bottle of nail polish remover. No wonder the
Filipino women at my mani-pedi salon are sooo thin. Instead I opted for a stiff martini and a massage -- Lars owed me a favor.
The Hollywood Celebrity Diet
While thumbing through the latest edition of In Touch, it hit me. It was so obvious I couldn't believe I hadn't
thought of it first. My fellow celebrities would serve as my "thinspiration." Celebrities have hawked dozens
of weightloss systems over years. Who can forget actress/model Erin Gray and her Hollywood Celebrity Diet?
The infomercial was Erin's triumphant return to the small screen after such classics as Silver Spoons and Battle of the Network Stars 1979 - 1981.
The Hollywood Celebrity Diet works through a system of juice and "star bars" to help you fight the hunger cravings.
Personally I would be happier eating opium.
The Somersize System
Suzanne Somers also promised amazing results with her system. The Somersize System replaced evil refined sugars with
SomerSweet, a sugar substitute made by evil refined oligofructose, insulin, fructose, sprouted mung bean
extract and Acesulfame-K. Of that list, I only recognized mung beans. (In 1987, I tried the Mung Bean Diet. I became mysteriously plagued with chronic
diarrhea and had to abandon it.)
The Teri Hatcher: "Jog Yourself Thin" Diet
I would try this but Lake does not "jog." I have only run once in the past eight years and that was into
Barney's for the semi-annual exotic fur sale. Teri claims her weight loss is the result of a busy schedule
and her tendency to "forget to eat" (aka anorexia). However a day does not go by that one does not see Teri
jogging the lanes and walks of greater Los Angeles. Once I was curious and followed her in my Miata. The
woman jogged all the way to Santa Barbara. Then she forced herself to vomit. Such perseverance!
The Lindsay Lohan-MK Olsen Famine Diet
This diet works on the principle of the body's natural response to famine. Don't eat, loose weight. I am
unsure that I want to look like a poster child for a Live Aid Concert, but the results are there in full
color -- these ladies look thin and -- I was about to say fabulous -- but let's just stick with thin. The best part of the Famine Diet is if you
become emaciated enough, Angelina Jolie will adopt you. Imagine Brad Pitt as your Daddy! I can.
Eventually I realized Erin Gray, Suzanne Somers and even Lindsay's methods would not work for me -- their fame was just too fleeting.
Even though Nancy in Kenosha, WI swears that the Hollywood Celebrity Diet worked for her, I couldn't be sure that it would
work for me. My sophisticated urban lifestyle has caused my body to develop a different chemistry than someone who
hails from a state most famous for its dairy products. Besides, I needed something fast, something quick, something with
guaranteed results that I could see in my full length mirror in a matter of days.
A few weeks passed without a solution. I was starting to feel defeated. I would soon be forced to lunch with Courtney Love and Matthew Perry. As plus-size
outcasts in a city full of glamourous 'thinspiring' celebrities, we would be seated at the worst table at The Ivy -- the one by the kitchen.
I was just starting to consider suicide when I saw IT. My listless page turning in Us Weekly suddenly brought me face to face with
perfection. Nicole Richie's physique taunted me. Since losing all that "rehab" fat, she has achieved the exact look that sends
my heart racing with envy. I too would look like a pre-pubescent boy! It only
took a few calls to learn Nicole's secret.
The Richie Diet
Day 1: Cocaine, vodka, cocaine, a sensible dinner of fruit loops and some more vodka followed by one more tiny
pinch of cocaine before bedtime.
Day 2: Take enough coke to make it through a taping of your reality TV show (serving portions may vary). Then
order a drink with a fruit garnish for dinner.
Days 3-5: Repeat Day 2.
Weekend: Gorge on Taco Bell Gorditas followed by enough cocaine to allow you to dance off all the calories at
The Sky Bar. When you make your frequent trips to the bathroom, have your bodyguard barricade the door so
that non-celebrities won't ask for any of your cocaine.
I tried The Richie Diet for a few days. I did see dramatic weight loss, but it also meant waking up in a strange hotel room with a penis near my face.
I think I will just find a new doctor -- one that that isn't stingy with those great little pills.
-Lake Stevens, Man About Town