Weight loss

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31, 2006 email this print this Prince charming is now a frog Bby Abigail Van Buren Dear Abby: My daughter "Lulu" moved in with a man I'll call Al a year and a half ago, telling us this was the man she was going to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

So my husband and I welcomed him to the family.

They now have a baby, and still there has been no wedding.

Al came to us eight months ago to ask our permission to ask Lulu to marry him.

We consented.

He appears to have had convenient memory loss about asking and - without going into details - has proven himself to be extremely self-centered, controlling, and a negative influence on what was once our happy, outgoing daughter.

We now realize that Al is someone we don't care to have in our family, and we'd like to know how (if it's possible) to rescind ou...

... KRT Wire I was a middle-aged guinea pig Subscriber Services Complete Forecast Search Recent News Archives Web for News Neighbors Sports Komets Prep Sports Weekly Sports Stats Business Editorials Features Ticket!

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31, 2006 email this print this I was a middle-aged guinea pig BY SUSAN AGER Detroit Free Press In my underwear, I lay on a crinkly runner of white paper draped over an examining table.

A nurse I'd come to know too well punched holes near my left ankle and lifted out two bloody scraps of skin.

It didn't hurt, because moments earlier Cindy Plunkett had given me a searing shot of lidocaine.

To warn me she said, "Just a little sting." Ha.

Moments later she would shoot me again, in the hip, taking a couple more skin chips.

The lot would be flown in test tubes to Utah, where technicians would count my nerve fibers.

I kept my eyes closed, unlike two years ago when, new to medical research, I didn't want to miss a thing.

This time, I was tired, ready to graduate from this study, wh...

...It's all very Chariots of Fire.

The unfathomable focus.

The effort.

And then there's that moment when a body ceases to be human and transforms into a highly calibrated instrument of sport.

No matter how we might have resisted at first, it became infectious.

After a while, we all found ourselves drawn to the screen every evening to watch fine young Australians be the best they can be.

It's enough to make you hum Vangelis anthems in the car.

That's right, nothing has sucked in this viewer quite like The Biggest Loser (Ten, Monday-Friday).

It's in my blood now - the valiant achievements of both red and blue teams, of Gillian and Bob, the trainers who make you believe fat people can preen.

And the mansion where it all happens.

Who knew Australia had such palaces?

It's been going for weeks now and interest isn't waning.

It's not like winning way too many gold medals.

That can leave one feeling blase, with a low-fat taste in the mouth.

The Biggest Loser is an addictive marathon of incredible shrinking people.

This week we said goodbye to an aggressive obese bloke called Wal.

He was an unpleasant individual, but very good television.

Every week he lost the exact amount of weight I desire to shed - in a lifetime.

Every evening, as I sat on the couching nibbling deep-fried prawn crackers and sour cream dip, I wondered how Wal could lose 4.5 kilos in a week and yet my scales don't move?

Incredible.

Let's not diminish the extraordinary achievements of our...