Success with a Rubber Band

By Susan Karas, Yaphank, New York

The day I started working out with my personal trainer, Teresa, she asked me, "What do you want to accomplish in our sessions together?"

That was easy. I told her that overall, I wanted to get in shape and get stronger. More specifically, I wanted to lose 10 pounds by swimsuit season.

"Good, you have both long-term and short-term goals," Teresa said. "That will help keep you motivated."

Then she warned, "I'm going to push you pretty hard, Sue. And you're going to have to push yourself."

She had. And so had I. Yet here I was at the gym, months later, the same old Sue with the same old flab. I wasn't feeling very motivated.

"Let's start with something different today," Teresa said.

I thought she was going to show me a new exercise. Instead, she took something small and green out of her pocket. A rubber band.

Not one of those big, wide elastic bands I'd seen people at the gym using for resistance training. But an ordinary rubber band, like the ones the mailman puts around my magazines to keep them together in the mailbox.

Teresa took my right arm and tugged the band onto my wrist, a determined look on her face. "This will solve your problem," she assured me.

Excuse me? I didn't mean to be rude, but I had to ask. "How is this rubber band going to help me get in shape? I really need to lose those 10 pounds."

"Your weight is not your biggest problem," Teresa said. "What's really holding you back is you're always putting yourself down. I can't understand why. You have so much going for you!"

Me? Who was she kidding? I knew better. I had grown up constantly comparing myself to others, and I fell short every time. The other kids at my high school were brighter, more interesting and definitely better looking. My girlfriends were thin and pretty. I was the pudgy, funny kid who always needed to peel off at least 10 pounds. They got As, I got Bs. They got the leads in the school play; I was cast in a supporting role. 

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I explained all that to Teresa while I warmed up on the treadmill. "I know I don't have a lot of confidence," I admitted. "But put myself down? Nah! I'm just being honest with myself."

Teresa didn't see it that way. She said she was sick and tired of hearing all the barbs I directed at myself. "Your negative thinking is a bad habit, and it's time to break it," she declared.

The plan was simple. Every time I thought or said something that put myself down, I was supposed to snap the rubber band—hard!—and snap myself out of that mindset.

"Pay attention to how many times you have a negative thought about yourself," Teresa said as we moved on to the leg press machine. "I think you'll be surprised at how often you do it."

Could she be right? I knew Teresa really wanted to help me, so even though I thought her plan was kind of silly, I agreed to try Operation Rubber Band. I left the gym and drove home with the green elastic around my wrist, feeling like Dr. Phil's next messed up guest.

A stack of mail was waiting. I shuffled through it. There was an official looking letter from my bank. This can't be good, I thought. I tore open the envelope, my stomach knotting up.

It was an overdraft notice. One of my checks had bounced because I'd been late transferring money to the account. My cheeks burned when I saw it was the birthday check I had sent to my niece. You really messed up now! How could you be so stupid?

That was when I remembered what Teresa said I needed to do. I reached for that rubber band dangling from my wrist, pulled it back and let it fly. Fwwwaaappp!

"Owwww!" I yelped.