The Math-Challenged Dieter

I received a phone call from the health and beauty reporter at a local newspaper.

"I read your essay in Chicken Soup for the Dieter’s Soul, and I thought I could get an expert quote and some feedback from you about a theory I'm researching," she said.


The essay she was referring to is cute and easy to read, and I had sold it a few times to a few different periodicals before the Chicken Soup folks sent me a contract. The article does not make me an expert. In fact, I have written a lot about the success I had dieting and have made a little pocket change from it, but it still does not make me an expert. Losing a lot of weight just gave me a reason to shop for new clothes. According to this reporter, however, being in a Chicken Soup book made me worthy of being interviewed.



What she needed from me was a quote. "I'm doing a story about how the math part of dieting makes it hard for people to lose weight if they aren't good at math. I think everything that people count from calories to steps can intimidate people who want to lose weight. I'm looking for someone who can say something about how numbers make losing weight difficult. Maybe you know someone who failed at dieting because she hated counting how many calories or carbs she was eating. Maybe someone didn't like measuring portions or weighing food."


"I don't think being good or bad at math has anything to do with losing weight," I said.


"Experts say it does," she said. "Experts in the health and beauty field say it is why so many people fail at diets. They hate math. They hate numbers. So the diets don't work!"


It's kind of scary thinking there's a group of people out there who believe that being bad at arithmetic is going to lead a person to an inevitable fate: Permanent Irreversible Fatness.
My mind started wandering, as it often does when I'm talking to silly people about silly things. I envision the new topic on news broadcasts being "PIF – Permanent Irreversible Fatness – the disease that goes after those who never learned to add and subtract without using their fingers. Details at 5!"


I returned to the regularly scheduled broadcast as the reporter continued, "They've just discovered that counting calories helps you lose weight!"


"Are you serious?" I asked her. I was referring to the "just discovered" part of her statement, but in retrospect, I think she thought it was news to me.


"If you count calories and keep your caloric intake low, according to the experts," she repeated in a new and more serious way, "a person will lose weight! If you don’t count calories, you will fail at your diet."


"That's not new," I told her.


"Well, it's a new theory," she replied.


"It's not new," I repeated.


"Well, it doesn't matter if it's new or not," she said, "because if you're bad at math, then you can't keep track of calories and you're going to be fat."


I was wheezing at this point. There's something about comments like this that sets off my asthma more than a field of pollen-producing plants. I reached for my inhaler and started scribbling down her comments because I knew there was an article in this conversation. I was thinking that sooner or later, the health and beauty experts would be pointing their fingers at math teachers across America, saying, "You are the cause of a generation of fat people. Billy is FAT because BILLY CAN’T ADD!"


"So what you're saying is that if you can't add, you will lack success in dieting?"


"Yupper, you have to be good at math to keep track of all those calories, carbs, or whatever you’re counting. That's what the experts say. If you can't keep track of sit-ups and crunches, you're doomed."


"Does it work backwards?" I asked her.


"I don't understand," she replied.


"Well if you're bad at math right from the start, does that mean you'll be fat. If you're fat, does it mean that you're predetermined to be bad at math? Is it commutative?"


"Which one is commutative again?" she asked.


I didn't answer her.


"So can I quote you?" she asked.


"I didn't say anything to be quoted yet," I said, "but if you need a quote, try this: 'I don't agree with your theory. It doesn't make sense. It's silly. Losing weight has nothing to do with being able to add or subtract or even do long division. Dieting isn't about math, it's about really wanting to lose weight. It's about not putting garbage in your mouth. It's about exercise. It's about self-control. Not math. Plus, you can buy a calculator for under five bucks if you are really mathematically impaired.'"


"Yeah, but the experts say that it's hard to remember to keep track and write everything down," she said.


"Like I said," I repeated. "If you want to lose weight, whether you have to add, write something down, or maybe keep track of how many sit ups you do, if someone really wants to, the person will figure out a way. It has nothing to do with math."


"So you don't think it’s harder to lose weight if you're bad at math? You don't think being bad at math makes a difference?"


"You can quote me on that," I said. "One thing has nothing to do with the other."


"But. I mean if you're on a diet and you want to lose weight, when you have to count all those calories, and keep track, like it makes it so hard for some people."


"Then those people can go on a low carb diet," I told her, "because all you have to do is count up to twenty at first to stay under twenty carb limit at the Induction Phase, and some of the lowest carb foods have zero carbs. Zero carbs means zero math."


My humor was wasted on her.


- - -


©2002, Felice Prager. All Rights Reserved. This blog is copyright protected. No item on this blog, including this essay or any photographs, may be used without the author's express written permission.



This essay originally appeared at the Irascible Professor - April 10, 2007.

Real Math - What if they gave a test, and nobody passed?

Real Math - What if they gave a test, and nobody passed?


I am standing in the fruit department at Safeway. I have narrowed my choices to three cantaloupes. They are all pretty much the same: same size, same firmness, same coloring. I pick each one up and give it the “squeeze and sniff” test. I wonder to myself, “How many other people have sniffed the end of this cantaloupe? How many fingers have squeezed this melon rind?” I also try to recall where I learned how to do this. Did I watch my mother at the supermarket squeezing melons? It definitely isn’t something that was inborn, except I’m sure there are men out there who will swear they have a sixth sense, the melon sense. For me, I’m sure it’s something that took practice. I’m sure I didn’t always do it right. With experience I’ve become quite adept at the art of choosing my melons. Regardless, I put the cantaloupes back on the stand; I can’t eat melon while I’m on the Atkins Diet.

I like supermarkets. I spend a lot of time there. I find comfort in being near things I can’t eat. Plus, the people at the supermarket know me by name. “Thank you,” says the clerk, (glancing at my credit card receipt,) “Mrs. Prager. You’ve saved $11.56 by shopping at Safeway today.”

“If I’ve saved $11.56,” I reply, “where is it?”

My response leaves the clerk dumbfounded. “Can we help you to your car with your bags, Mrs. Prager?”

I don’t even correct his use of “can” instead of “may” --- I am on my best behavior at the supermarket. I need Safeway more than Safeway needs me. “Thank you, but I can load my own groceries,” I say with my polite supermarket smile.

Back in my Jeep, I examine my receipt. How could this meager amount of low carbohydrate food I just moved from the shopping cart be worth $100? (And how much fat did I burn moving it?) This gets me thinking about math. I start multiplying and dividing in my head:

If Felice works five hours, how much per hour does Felice have to earn to cover the $100 she just spent at Safeway on foods that definitely need some fiber in them to make them seem worthwhile?

I always find satisfaction in knowing I am able to solve for unknown variables.

Felice has Q pounds to lose. Given her highly resistant metabolism, she is only losing 1.5 pounds per week during her extended Induction Phase of the Atkins Diet. If she sticks to her diet, how many pounds will she have lost in six months, and will she fit into that expensive bathing suit she bought in 1993 and never wore. Will the bathing suit still be in style? And will her husband ever find out?

I’ve been thinking about math a lot lately. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about math. Maybe it’s that it is almost income tax time. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m paying out-of-state tuition for my son to attend a state college in another state so that he can be with his girlfriend. Or maybe it’s what I read in the newspaper.

This was in the Arizona Republic (Jan. 25, 2004):

“On Monday, the State Board of Education will consider making it easier for this year's eighth-graders to pass the AIMS (Arizona's Instrument to Measure Standards) math test they'll face in April. “This is the correction of an error,” Arizona schools chief Tom Horne said. “The problem is the way the test is scored.” In the past four years, no more than 21 percent of Arizona's eighth-graders have passed the AIMS math test, well below the passing rate of students who take the test in other grades. To pass, eighth-graders must get 78 percent of the 50 math questions correct. State officials want to change that passing score to about 72 percent, allowing students to miss three more questions. Had the change been in place in 2003, Horne said, 32 percent, instead of 21 percent, of Arizona's eighth-graders would have passed the test.”

Two years ago, when my kid was in eighth grade, he passed the AIMS test. He didn’t need a three questions gift to get over the bar. He did his homework, went for extra help when he didn’t understand, and worked hard.

“It’s 2 AM on a Tuesday morning, and Felice can’t sleep. She’s not hungry, but she just needs something to eat. She goes to the refrigerator and finds the half can of Diet Rite Cola she didn’t finish. She chugs it down. “Nope,” she says to herself, “I need something to chew.” She goes to the cabinet and finds the bag of pecans halves she bought at Safeway earlier in the day. According to Dr. Atkins’ New Diet Revolution (page 174) one ounce of pecans equals approximately five grams of carbohydrates. If one ounce, according to Dr. Atkins, is equal to thirty-one nuts, and Felice eats fifteen and a half pieces, does Felice count these carbohydrates for Tuesday or for Wednesday? And did Dr. Atkins count a pecan half as one nut or do two halves equal one nut? Did Felice eat two and a half grams or one and a quarter grams of carbohydrates?

This was in the Arizona Republic (Jan. 14, 2004) a few weeks ago:

“Students who excel at math say a love for the subject and their parents' support are among the reasons they do so well…Parents can help by letting children gravitate toward the areas of math they like best, math experts say. Some children like variables while others are good at geometric shapes. ‘Let them go with their interests,’ said Bill Butterworth, associate professor of mathematics at Barat College of DePaul University in Lake Forest, Ill. Butterworth, who judged the high school math competition in Phoenix, said game shows such as The Price Is Right help children develop math skills of strategy and probability. He recommends parents work with their child's teachers and check out what math resources are available through the school. Many schools hold family math nights. Sophomore Jake Gottlieb of Scottsdale looks for math's real-life applications. When he was a child, he would play McDonald's restaurant with his mother, making ‘purchases.’ At age 3, he could count to 100. When he was 7, his parents bought him $100 in stocks so he could practice percentages. He sold the stocks about a year ago for $3,000.”

Maybe I was doing the right thing when I used to let my kid, with my supervision, make transactions at the store. When I owned my own business, I’d show my sons how invoicing worked. My sons knew what the “bottom line” was before they could ride two-wheeled bikes.
When hiring employees for my business, I used to ask two questions. They helped me decide who could think enough not to make a stupid math error when making a sale.

These were the questions:

1. If an item that costs $9.99 is on sale for 50% off, about how much will it cost?

2. You have to give a customer $26.25 in change. From the list below, what is the way you will use the least amount of bills in giving the customer change:
-two ten-dollar bills, one five-dollar bill, one one-dollar bill, and a quarter.
-One twenty-dollar bill, one five-dollar bill, one one-dollar bill, and a quarter.
-One twenty-five dollar bill, one one-dollar bill, and a quarter.

Job seekers answered “C” for the second question more times than I want to admit, and figuring out “about how much” for the first question took a pencil, paper, and time, and many times, their answers were far from five dollars. I would watch in amazement as they added or subtracted or multiplied or divided; then I’d show them the right way to estimate it in their heads and tell them I’d call if an opening became available.

My kid got both questions correct without my help. He was eight at the time.

So, what does this say? Nothing.

Yeah, nothing.

The proof was in the Arizona Republic (January 21, 2004) again:

“Scottsdale's newest reality TV star apparently has chosen fame and possible fortune over a career as a Catholic schoolteacher.Randi Coy quit her job Wednesday as a first-grade teacher at Pope John XXIII Catholic School Community in northeast Phoenix.Coy, 23, appears on the Fox show, My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance, which debuted Monday night with 19.6 million viewers nationwide. Coy had been on unpaid administrative leave from the school since Thanksgiving…On Friday, Coy told The Arizona Republic that she was unsure about her future."I'm young and I did this for the experience, and who knows what's going to happen?" Coy said. "But right now, I'm just taking it day by day. And hopefully, yes, definitely I'd like to go back to teaching. I'm just going to see what happens."But on the first episode of the six-episode series, Coy mentioned the difference between her teacher's salary and her potential $500,000 prize.”

I’ve been thinking about math a lot lately.

My son called the other night. This is the son who is going to an out-of-state college for which we’re paying out-of-state tuition. Apparently, he and his girlfriend are planning to go to Florida for Spring Break. They have it all figured out. They’ll get a cheap fare on plane flights and they’ll stay with her relatives. My son did not mention sending us any money to cover the cost of his car payments or auto insurance. Nor did he mention any other expenses they’d have in Florida beyond getting there.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time thinking about math.

©2004 by Felice Prager. All Rights Reserved.

Originally Published by the Irascible Professor.