The monolith glared at me, daring me to step up on the ridged platform. The oval face a dial, the numbers 0-350. The massive scale was situated to the right of the entrance to the Publix Supermarket in Marathon, Florida. You passed it every time you went grocery shopping.
Who would dare to weigh themselves here? Grab a shopping cart and check your weight before you buy your groceries? Side-eyeing the monster, I’m distracted and almost run my cart into a woman who looks familiar. We are both gawking at the boldness of a man who has stepped up on the scale.
“Wow, imagine weighing yourself right in the middle of Publix,” I say loudly.
She turns to face me and says, “I can’t use that scale. I have to go down to the docks.”
At first I don’t get it and then I realize she has to use the scales at the dock because she weighs more than 350 lbs. It turns out we are both members of a religious-based weight loss program called The Weigh Down Workshop. Desperation fuels our search for help—anything, even the Bible, if it can ease the shame of being overweight.
Growing up we never read the bible at home. This program would be Bible-based leaning heavily on self-discipline. You cut the sandwich in half and only eat half. That’s it. Discipline is the lesson. It’s God’s will over eating whatever you want.
I learned about the Weigh Down Workshop a few weeks after I broke and dislocated my ankle in 1996 in the Florida Keys. I needed to be on crutches with a cast for months and then a long time in PT learning to walk again. I was already overweight, and it was only going to get worse since I had no way to exercise. I was convinced what I needed was discipline. With God’s help and our leader Gwen’s motivating talks, I believed I could lose weight and become a better person. (Sound familiar?)
In the meeting we introduced ourselves. The woman I ran into in the supermarket told her story. She would drive into town and stop at every fast-food joint along the way, not missing one. First McDonald’s Quarter Pounder & Fries, then Wendy’s Chili & Frosty, Burger King’s Whopper, and a couple of roast beef sandwiches at Arby’s, going through the drive thru, not even getting out of her car, eating at every stop. I never forgot her story.
Our leader Gwen was beautiful, blonde, thin, oozing Southern charm. A dietician, she encouraged us each week to eat slowly and eat only half of our normal portions. We read bible passages geared toward discipline.
“Does eating half mean only stopping at two of the four fast food places,” I asked trying to lighten the mood.
I was already becoming wary of Gwen’s program when she told a story about how she was struggling to decide how many white columns she wanted in the front of her new house. Hmmm… I thought—must be a Southern thing. It wasn’t until she walked out in the video dressed as the Virgin Mary that I got up and left the meeting and the group.
HBO’s documentary about Gwen—God, Greed, and the Cult of Gwen Shamblin—recounts her fall from the Bible platform. The picture is not flattering. I have not watched the show. I’m afraid my face will be in the audience.
Only young people fall into cults, right? I was fifty-three, injured physically, unsure if I would ever walk normally, overweight, and desperate for acceptance and connection. Curiosity and wariness kept me questioning and wondering and eventually I hobbled away from the Weigh Down Workshop on my crutches. Years later I learned how far down Gwen had fallen. Even God’s will and self discipline couldn’t help her fight her own greed.
Have you ever been part of a group that had a cult-like atmosphere? Were you aware at the time? Did you question and wonder? Please leave a HEART and COMMENT below, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you for subscribing to Get Gutsy.
Wow!! Glad you got away from that
Oh, wow wow wow . . . I hadn't heard of the Weigh Down thing until now -- but now I want to know more.