Man Gets Rid of Bad Habits—and 134 Pounds, With Dr. Phil

Kevin Matthews’ sidekick gets rid of bad habits—and 134 pounds

May 24, 2004

BY MIKE THOMAS Staff Reporter

Last September, when Jim Toth put Dr. Phil McGraw in charge of his weight-loss plan, he was a self-loathing, fast-food-chowing, heart-attack-waiting-to-happen train wreck who tipped the scales at a whopping 360 pounds.

Now, 10 months later, he’s a healthy, svelte 226—12 pounds below his goal of 238—and dropping. That’s 134 pounds, gone. He even owns a pair of skinny-guy designer jeans. Trying them on, he says, nearly brought him to tears.

At 3 p.m. today on WMAQ-Channel 5, “Dr. Phil” viewers will see Toth’s amazing metamorphosis when he and his comrades in the Ultimate Weight Loss Challenge appear on the air to show off their new selves—or to get constructively chewed out for falling short.

Known to many Chicago radio listeners as “Lumpy,” midday host Kevin Matthews’ sidekick on WCKG-FM (105.9), Toth, 33, had struggled with obesity since early childhood. Dr. Phil’s slimming secrets, detailed in his best-selling book The Ultimate Weight Solution: The Seven Keys to Weight Loss Freedom, along with some top-notch dietary advice and medical supervision, helped change that forever.

“The worst day of the past 10 months has been better than the best day of the past 32 years of my life,” says Toth, who now loves to run and lift weights. “My life has been so blessed. ... I’ve become a different human being. I’ve become able to look at life in a different way. I don’t ever have to think about ‘What am I gonna eat next?’ “

That Toth even considered joining a pool of 7,000 applicants was due in large part to Matthews. After seeing a promo for Dr. Phil’s contest, Matthews thought Toth a perfect candidate and approached him about giving it a shot. Toth agreed; he had nothing (and everything) to lose. They then shot a 3-minute audition video, submitted it and waited. And waited.

Six months later, Toth found out he’d made the final cut and was flown to a lavish mansion in Beverly Hills. For more than a week there, he and his fellow participants were taped and miked and observed by a nutritionist, a trainer, a physician and a psychologist. Weights were taken, measurements were made. The doc even dropped by with some inspiring words and copies of his new book, which hadn’t yet been released.

Ultimately, though, it was up to the individuals. Do or die. Maybe literally.

An actor and comic who performs regularly at venues around town, including ImprovOlympic on North Clark, Toth said the vast physical and mental transformation hasn’t diluted his humor.

“I think comedy is based on being able to be vulnerable and being able to be honest, and I think there’s so much truth in comedy. ... I’ll never be able to forget where I came from,” he says. “And being there made me vulnerable and probably really affected my comedy. But now, I still have that resource pool to use. I can always go back to that pain. That’s part of who I am.”

ImprovOlympic owner Charna Halpern was one of many who witnessed Toth’s gradual shedding. “Jim was afraid that his role was going to be the big fat guy, and that [if he lost] weight he wouldn’t be the fat funny guy anymore,” she recalled. “And I said, ‘You are hilarious. You have that same kind of commitment that [Chris] Farley had.’

“[Jim’s] got so much energy; he’s just so wonderful. And I said, ‘You’re not gonna lose that. ... Now he’s doing incredible characters, he’s always right on the money.”

Also, Halpern notes, he sweats less onstage.

Matthews saw it as a matter of survival. “Obviously, here was a guy where nothing was working,” he says. “There’s no question, he was a fat fun guy, but a fat fun guy who was gonna die.”

Nonetheless, Matthews says he never thought of staging an intervention for his friend, “a big fat pig outta control.” In fact, an on-air stunt early last spring had Toth consuming mass quantities of food for three hours—burgers, shakes, pizza, the works—and gaining almost eight pounds as a result. “That was the fun Lumpy,” Matthews says almost wistfully.

Fortunately, Toth didn’t croak. Though if he had, his boss knew exactly how it should happen.

“I was hoping, ‘If he’s gonna die, at least die on the air with the mikes open,’ “ Matthews says, “just so I could get the crashing sound. That woulda been cool.”

http://www.suntimes.com/output/lifes...r-lumpy24.html