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"   Over the course of a month, an ELLE editor learns that being professional-grade skinny is harder than it looks\u2014way harder.  Step one: The consultation  &amp;quot;I think you should buy a scale.&amp;quot; Those were the hard-hitting words of nutritionist-to-the-svelte Dr. Charles Passler, a New York-based professional, whose custom designed diet plan helped to peel nearly 50 pounds off Adriana Lima after she gave birth to daughter Sienna last September, and who I&amp;#039;d been consulting with for the past four weeks. &amp;quot;So you can hold yourself accountable.&amp;quot; Some background: holding myself accountable isn&amp;#039;t exactly my strong suit. I&amp;#039;ve lost count of the number of times I&amp;#039;ve slugged down a sugary Skinny Vanilla latte just because it was cold outside, ordered another round of sauvignon blanc after I&amp;#039;d already closed my tab, or eaten my husband&amp;#039;s bolognese in lieu of my own sensible plate of greens. And every time I indulge a compulsion, I swear up and down it&amp;#039;s the last time. And for a week or so it is. Until it isn&amp;#039;t. It&amp;#039;s this lifestyle that has led me, a 5&amp;#039;3&amp;quot;, 29-year-old with a pretty decent rack, to my resting weight of 123 pounds. In my adult life, I don&amp;#039;t believe I&amp;#039;ve ever weighed less than 113 pounds (my wedding, a mere three months ago) or more than 130 (right after senior year of college when my roommate told me that, yes, I looked fat).\u00A0Looking and feeling skinny has always been a brass ring for me. And for as long as I can remember, I&amp;#039;ve always been aware of my size as it compares to others. When I was younger, that awareness presided over how much my thighs spread across the tarmac at the pool; as an adult, it evolved into dissecting how big my arms look compared to those of my friends in Facebook pics. It&amp;#039;s a haunting and all-consuming state of consciousness that governs decisions ranging from what to wear to whether or not I should sit front row at SoulCycle. It&amp;#039;s so exhausting and upsetting that you might wonder why I don&amp;#039;t just lose the 10 pounds that long ago affixed themselves to my thighs and butt and move on with my life, right? Well, I&amp;#039;d counter your unsolicited suggestion with a different argument: losing and gaining those ten pounds is my life. Contrary to how it may look, my lifestyle isn&amp;#039;t one of decadent dinners, grueling boxing sessions, and a sometimes-distended, sometimes-concave tummy, it&amp;#039;s one of constant negotiations and justifications, self-loathing and self-celebration, all woven into a psyche that renders me, at any given moment, somewhere between manically happy and catatonically despondent. To say I have food issues is an understatement. It&amp;#039;s these issues that finally led me to Dr. Passler&amp;#039;s rather sterile Greenwich Village office a month ago. The best way to categorize Dr. P&amp;#039;s clientele is this: Victoria&amp;#039;s Secret models, actors\u2014Sally Field followed a program to gain fifteen pounds for her Oscar-nominated portrayal of Mary Todd Lincoln in last year&amp;#039;s Lincoln\u2014and the kind of Yelpers who post things like, &amp;quot;When I saw another patient of Dr. Passler&amp;#039;s last year at SXSW I noticed her glowing skin.&amp;quot; It&amp;#039;s a privileged group, of course, that can afford weekly $65 consultations, meal replacement bars at $2.75 a pop, and pricey supplements. And all of us felt our needs required professional attention. At my very first appointment, Dr. P\u2014an affable, balding fellow with a penchant for dad plaids and posing questions you couldn&amp;#039;t possibly know the answer to\u2014asked me if I was a particularly stressed person. I&amp;#039;d had an incredible night&amp;#039;s sleep, was having an awesome hair day, and was seeing the doctor who helped an Angel lose nearly a pound a day. &amp;#039;Not particularly!&amp;#039;\u00A0I answered brightly. However, once he clipped a sensor to my big toe, which transmitted my vitals to his PC, it became clear that whether or not I knew it, my body was stressed. From my breathing patterns to my body fat percentage, which was shockingly high considering the amount and intensity with which I exercise, my body was trying to reconcile enough activity for two badly behaving 29-year-olds. To illustrate the journey I was about to take, Dr. Passler drew two crude circles\u2014a big one labeled 125 (the current me) and a tidier, smaller one labeled 113 (the future me). He then scribbled inside the heavier circle until it more closely resembled a gnarled black hole. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s you,&amp;quot; he gestured. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re a swirling, garbled, over-exercised, overfed nebulus of darkness,&amp;quot; I thought. And instantly, I felt like one. Read Part II: powders, potions, and potables. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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