Diet cops bust scale-busters.

Diet cops bust scale-busters

Bills for weight-loss plan go to boss or to employee

"It's the cops!"

With that warning, the culprits begin stashing the goods behind bookcases, under couches or in a closet. But it is to no avail.

With radar-like efficiency, the cops home in on favorite hiding places, unearthing bags of calorie-laden potato chips, boxes of chocolate chip cookies and tubs of ice cream.

They're the Diet Cops and they are here to protect and to serve. Protect waistlines, that is, and serve nutritional, healthy foods.

The Diet Cops, Susan Cohen and Carol Saunders of Specialized Diet Consultants of Tarzana, are cashing in on an expanding market. About 100 million Americans are overweight and there are estimates these corpulent customers will spend about $33 billion this year on diets and diet-related products and services, up from $29 billion last year.

The Diet Cops, who met in the waiting room of another diet program, joined forces in October 1979 after frustration with other diets led them to devise their own program.

Tapping the expertise of a registered dietician, they put together a diet program that incorporates an individual's lifestyle. If a person can't -- or won't -- give up his two-martini lunch or her pasta dinners, the consultants come up with a diet that includes those usually forbidden items.

The Diet Cops, the SWAT team of nutrition, was a natural extension for Cohen and Saunders. They began with some help from Joan Rivers, whose eating habits flew out of control while she was hosting her late-night talk show, "The Late Show Starring Joan Rivers."

The Diet Cops were called in to clean up the place. They stormed the studio, replacing all the junk food in the refrigerators with healthy snacks. The set caterer was read the riot act. One more infraction -- like a double-fudge cake for dessert -- and they were out.

The surprise raids became such a hit, the two women decided to "hit the streets," Saunders said.

Now they make unannounced visits to individuals and corporate clients, combing the house or office for illicit foods and replacing them with healthy, nutritional foods. Sometimes the two cops will rearrange a perpetrator's cupboards, hiding the Oreos the rest of the family demand as a constitutional right. They'll also label the "bad stuff" with stickers so the dieter knows to stay away -- or else.

The Diet Cops don't have handcuffs or stun guns to stop the dieter from a food rampage. "We don't confine them or beat them," Saunders said.

And while there are plenty of embarrassed looks -- the most frequent response is "Oh my God, you're here" -- the Diet Cops don't encounter many life-threatening situations. They've never been shot at by a crazed dieter who just has to have that last piece of applie pie in the refrigerator.

In fact, dieters are usually relieved to see the Diet Cops, according to Saunders, because they can surrender and let the cops take care of all the problems confronting dieters on the edge.

The real enforcement problem comes from the dieter's family, according to Cohen. Husbands, wives, sons and daughters -- worried that the Diet Cops will confiscate their Twinkies -- become skillful at stashing their calorie-laden booty.

Kids are known for stuffing snacks behind the couch or in the hall closet. And they don't warm up to the cop's attempts to change their evil ways.

"We bring these little boxes of raisins and nuts that we think are great for a snack," Cohen said. "When I told one client's little girl about it, she gave me one of those `drop dead' looks. The mothers love it, the kids' reaction is `when are you going home?'"

The cops also raid corporate kitchens and snack rooms at companies across the Southland. They separate "good" food from "bad" food, setting aside certain shelves in the refrigerator for acceptable snacks.

The surprise visits aren't just to catch dieters in the act of destroying their figures. Sometimes they help stop the self-destructive behavior that many dieters adopt.

Recently, a local company was planning a huge office party. Every employee was supposed to bring something to eat, but no one was planning to bring any "diet" food.

"It was like they were setting themselves up for failure," Cohen said.

So the Diet Cops snuck into the party, leaving behind a diet cake and a plate of fruit and vegetables.

Specialized Diet Consultants has worked with a number of area companies, including Nu-Med Inc., an Encino hospital operator, television station KTLA and the Daily News in Woodland Hills.

The consultants visit the offices at lunchtime, meeting in a conference room to discuss the common problems of all dieters. Then each employee meets with a consultant for 15 minutes to talk about individual progress and problems.

In some cases, the company picks up the tab for their employees' weight loss. In others, the employee is responsible for the entire cost. The Diet Cops' favorite payment strategy is an incentive program where the company pays half and the employee pays half. Employees who reach their goal are reimbursed by the company. Employees who don't reach their goal must pay back the company.

This was the payment plan chosen by Nu-Med. Everyone who went through the 12-week program reached their goal, including one woman who lost about 80 pounds, said Maurice Lewitt, Nu-Med's chairman and chief executive officer, who had gone to the Diet Cops on his own to lose "about 1,200 pounds."

The 15 employees in Nu-Med's program lost about 257 pounds in just three months.

The weight loss program brought the employees closer together as they worked towards a common goal, Lewitt said. It also made them more competitive and improved morale, he said.

"People who feel better about themselves work better," he said.

The Diet Cops aren't alone in pinpointing the corporate world as a potential profit-generator. Weight Watchers Inc. created its "At Work" program five years ago to bring its program into the workplace.

At Work programs are held at 80 to 100 local companies, including Collins Foods International, Lawry's Food Inc. and Magic Mountain, according to Cheryl France, account representative in Weight Watchers' regional office in Burbank.

The Weight Watchers program doesn't cost employers a cent. All they have to do is provide a meeting room once a week and a place to store a few boxes, she said.

Some companies are beginning to subsidize the program, which cost each participant $10 to join and $8 a week, she added.

"There is a wellness benefit to the program," France said. "People are more health conscious these days."

The Diet Cops point out that employees who eat nutritionally have fewer sick days and insurance claims. They are now working to convince area health maintenance organizations to incorporate their program as a preventive health measure.

An employee's insurance coverage will usually pick up 80 percent of the program's cost if there is a medical reason requiring weight loss. The fee for corporate clients is negotiated with each individual company.

Cost for individuals who visit one of Specialized Diet Consultants offices in Tarzana, West Los Angeles, Fullerton or Irvine is $125 for the first visit and then $40 a week. Clients are not required to sign contracts and can drop out of the program at any time.

About 85 percent of their clients lose the weight they want -- and keep it off. But like any other diet program, the cops have some repeat offenders. They still keep in touch with clients who lost their weight years ago, but find themselves slipping back into a life of gluttony.

"If they feel like things are out of control, they call us and we get them back in control," Saunders said.

PHOTO : Pantry raid: Keeping dieters on the losing side