<http://schema.org/articleBody>
"Have you ever wondered why stars seem more emotionally fragile than the rest of us, flitting in and out of rehab and raging at their assistants? After spending four weeks on a celebrity crash diet and fitness plan, I think I know the answer. They&amp;amp;#8217;re hungry. Normally I&amp;amp;#8217;m never hungry. I&amp;amp;#8217;m probably the only woman in Los Angeles who eats bread every day. And while I haven&amp;amp;#8217;t exercised in years, I felt pretty good about my tall, but not gangly, figure. So when Glamour asked me to take on this body blitz&amp;amp;#8212;the type of diet and workout plan a star would go on to slim down for a typical awards season&amp;amp;#8212;I agreed. I was pretty confident about the whole thing until, at our first appointment, Beverly Hills dietitian Rachel Beller, R.D., hands me a long shopping list filled with expensive organic groceries, fiber supplements, cooking sprays and specialty teas and says, &amp;amp;#8220;I&amp;amp;#8217;m sorry. Good luck.&amp;amp;#8221; Beller does a good percentage of her work with cancer patients, but the rest of her time is devoted to helping starlets shave off those last pounds before a big night. Her philosophy: Lose weight without sacrificing nutrition. The plan: a truckload of veggies, lean protein and nothing processed (when I ask if diet soda is OK, she cheerfully replies, &amp;amp;#8220;If you want to drink poison!&amp;amp;#8221;). My hypothetical &amp;amp;#8220;red-carpet deadline&amp;amp;#8221; is just four weeks away&amp;amp;#8212;so the plan is more restrictive than something she&amp;amp;#8217;d do for someone without a looming event. Even things like nuts, avocado and edamame are a no-no&amp;amp;#8212;too fattening. Butternut squash? Corn? Peas? Too sugary. Perhaps this goes without saying, but no bread, rice, pasta, sweets or cheese. Rachel is also a big fan of fiber; she wants me to consume a whopping 35 grams a day&amp;amp;#8212;about 10 grams more than what&amp;amp;#8217;s routinely recommended for a woman my age&amp;amp;#8212;and tells me to stir Benefiber into tea, yogurt, water, whenever possible to help me feel full. All I can think about is that the amount of gas I&amp;amp;#8217;ll be producing will be sufficient to power a small country. She also wants me to drink a cup of matcha, a super-concentrated green tea that&amp;amp;#8217;s packed with antioxidants, every day. Next I head off to meet my celebrity trainer, Jamie Milnes, at a gym in Brentwood, California. He&amp;amp;#8217;s a nice bloke from Manchester, England, and he cheerfully critiques my form as I do squats and lunges; the workout is so tough that after an hour, I limp to my car, worried that I won&amp;amp;#8217;t have the strength to push the brakes on the way home. Jamie wants to see me twice a week at the gym, where he&amp;amp;#8217;ll have me do an hour of circuit training and balancing exercises on a stability ball. On the other days, I&amp;amp;#8217;m to run intervals for about 45 minutes and do ab and butt exercises at home. I get one day of rest per week, just like in the Bible. For the first four days, I can barely move&amp;amp;#8212;I can&amp;amp;#8217;t lift my 15-month-old daughter, and I have to drop in a free fall onto the toilet. But even worse, the diet is starting to get me down. I would normally greet the day with some buttered toast, an egg or two, coffee and a smile. Now it&amp;amp;#8217;s a bowl of nonfat plain Greek yogurt with bran on top. (The cereal isn&amp;amp;#8217;t bad, but it bears a disturbing resemblance to gerbil food.) The matcha tastes like it came from the bottom of a Minnesota lake. I&amp;amp;#8217;m mowing through three bags of salad a day. By the end of the first week, I&amp;amp;#8217;m a total grump. &amp;amp;#8220;What&amp;amp;#8217;s the point of eating anymore?&amp;amp;#8221; I whine to my husband. &amp;amp;#8220;All the joy is gone.&amp;amp;#8221; One day, he says he has to work late and I fly off the handle. Had there been a cell phone in my hand, I would have thrown it in his face, &amp;amp;aacute; la Naomi Campbell. What&amp;amp;#8217;s happening to me? Had saturated fat been the only thing keeping me sane? I go back to Rachel after a week, and I&amp;amp;#8217;ve lost a little over 3 pounds in seven days. Suddenly the anguish seems worth it. I feel happy; maybe I&amp;amp;#8217;ll eat this way for the rest of my life! After all, I do feel very supported by my entourage&amp;amp;#8212;Jamie e-mails me about five times a day, and Rachel calls to check in like a girlfriend. I feel serviced, like a sports car or a queen. This is the difference between celebrities and the hoi polloi. When you&amp;amp;#8217;re a normal person, it&amp;amp;#8217;s just you against the cookie jar. But my weight loss-induced euphoria doesn&amp;amp;#8217;t last for long. I finish every dinner feeling oddly hungry. I&amp;amp;#8217;m allowed one glass of wine and one wedge of super-dark chocolate a day but a few nights during that second week, I decide to have a second glass of Pinot. &amp;amp;#8220;Whatever,&amp;amp;#8221; I reason. &amp;amp;#8220;Do you think Scarlett Johansson is turning down another glass of champagne?&amp;amp;#8221; My next meeting with Rachel is less jubilant&amp;amp;#8212;I lost only one pound. Maybe the extra booze really did make a difference. That night, I really want a second glass of wine to make myself feel better, but I think, Calories, and stop myself. I seriously consider stealing one of my husband&amp;amp;#8217;s Vicodins, left over from his knee injury. Who am I, Lindsay Lohan? I kind of get the appeal of drugs now: You don&amp;amp;#8217;t have to record them in your daily food log. By week three, I realize that I&amp;amp;#8217;m staring at myself in the mirror a lot. Getting out of the shower, I pluck at the skin sitting on top of my hips. Why can&amp;amp;#8217;t I get rid of that jiggle on my outer thigh? How have I never noticed that my arms resemble logs of unbaked cookie dough? When you start gazing at your body with an eagle eye, it feels as if there will always be more to lose and more to fix. At my last appointments with Rachel and Jamie, they calculate that I&amp;amp;#8217;ve lost 9 pounds, and five inches from my middle, in just under a month. My body fat has gone from 28 percent to 25 percent, and I&amp;amp;#8217;ve lost an inch around each thigh, too. I&amp;amp;#8217;m proud of my new body, but it came at a price. I ate pizza on my first night off the diet, and instead of feeling thrilled by my new freedom, I felt anxious. I went into the bathroom, lifted up my shirt and peered at my abs for signs of paunch. I hope I can go back to eating anything without guilt, but for now I&amp;amp;#8217;m balancing fried food with fiber and hoping for the best. One thing is certain: with a little cheese in my tummy and the occasional extra glass of wine, I don&amp;amp;#8217;t want to throw stuff at my husband anymore. And I&amp;amp;#8217;ve learned that while a Hollywood body is fun to have, nothing&amp;amp;#8217;s worth the Hollywood personality that goes with it."^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/health-fitness/2008/02/star-body-plan>