Acupuncture and herbs aid in Chinese weight loss

By Ron Gluckman

Twelve-year-old Matthew Feldman had tried it all: low-carb diets, pills, Weight Watchers. "Nothing worked," says the New Yorker, who at 1.6 meters tipped the scales at 87 kilograms. "No matter what I did, I always gained and gained." Until now. After three weeks on an innovative Chinese weight-loss program, Feldman is down to 76 kilos. Suddenly, his goal of 59 seems within reach.

What's the miracle cure? A unique regimen of exercise, acupuncture and Chinese herbs. Feldman is among several foreign students spending the summer – along with 190 Chinese – at Aimin Weight-Loss Clinic in Tianjin, about two hours south of Beijing. Though weight-loss programs are nothing new in the West, the need for such centers in China is growing rapidly, as middle-class citizens consume an increasingly fatty diet and lead increasingly sedentary lifestyles. Obesity rates for urban children have soared to 20 percent-double that of the early 1990s. "And the number of obese youths grows about 10 percent a year," says Aimin director Shi Lidong. Originally a military hospital, the Tianjin center was privatized and became a weight-loss clinic in 1998; it quickly achieved success in helping Chinese slim down. Since then, Aimin has added franchises in more than 20 Chinese cities, and five overseas – in South Korea, Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia. Clinics in America and Europe are under discussion, says Shi.

That's no surprise, given the dramatic success stories – and the West's hunger for a quick fix. Meng Qinggang weighed 265 kilos when he arrived at Tianjin in 2000, and needed help dressing and walking. In four months, he lost 80 kilos, eventually slimming to 90 kilos. Deng Xuejian's case was even more dramatic: the 11-year-old Chinese boy dropped from 174 kilos to half that size in eight months at Aimin. "The physical change is only one aspect," says medical director Liu Ruijin, one of 50 doctors at the Tianjin center. "The psychological change is huge. Fat people are fat because they are depressed. To build a whole new lifestyle is more important than just physical treatment."

Aimin's basic approach to weight loss isn't radically different from Western regimes: less eating, more exercise. But it varies in the details. While Western professionals advise against rapid weight loss, at Aimin it is encouraged. "Most of our patients are severely obese," says Liu. "They are in serious health risk and can easily afford to lose weight quickly."

Traditional Chinese therapies are routine. Treatment at Aimin typically includes daily acupuncture sessions in which hair-thin needles are strategically inserted into chubby stomachs and thighs to suppress appetite and improve metabolism. (It's not for everyone; Feldman, who only partakes occasionally, says, "It hurts. You should hear people, screaming like dogs.") Patients also have herbal patches taped to their ears to help reduce hunger. And they receive up to six varieties of medication, according to individual need. "These include vitamins and minerals, and traditional Chinese medicine," says Liu, who declines to detail the exact ingredients. "It's not like Western medicine where you can say what it is and what it does."

Aimin looks more like a high school than a thriving business. It houses 190 live-in patients, 80 percent of whom are children. Patients typically pay $500 to $600 per month for treatment and living expenses. (An additional 600 outpatients each pay about $38 a month for daily acupuncture or medicines.) Lodging is four to a tiny room, with a shared bathroom. Residents are bused to a sports center each day, where they walk around a track and participate in aerobics classes after lunch. Meals are meager, consisting of a few skimpy chicken wings, served with vegetables and rice; Liu says intake is limited to 1,200 to 1,400 calories per day. "The food has been the hardest adjustment," says Harry Lam, 20, an interior designer from New York. His parents, immigrants from southern China, saw a story about Aimin in a Chinese newspaper in America. The 136-kilo Lam has already lost 23 kilos and hopes to trim down to 82.

The clinic's office is a shrine to slim-ness. The walls are lined with plaques detailing the astounding success of former students: Meng looks like a movie star, not even remotely recognizable as the gargantuan creature in his "before" picture. Such images are no doubt encouraging to the steady stream of new inductees – among them 13-year-old Wang Jiangqiao, who hasn't attended school since the second grade. "Teachers sent me home because I was too fat," he says. Wang weighs more than 150 kilos, but Liu says he has already shed seven kilos in a week. He will find a ready supporter in Feldman. "Before I had a size-40 waist," he says. "[Now] my pants keep falling down. Nothing fits. That's a great feeling."

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