I didn't want to get weighed today. After a week putzing through Montreal with all of those French speaking people and all of their baguettes and butter and cheese and Chantilly cream on the crepes for breakfast and the Doritos at the Grand Prix since everything else seemed to be covered in sausage and all of those Fodors said you gotta try them restaurants and all of the "this doesn't count because I'm eating it on an airplane" food, I thought, if I can just maintain my weight this week, I'll be happy. A couple of weeks ago I stepped on the scale after a burrito and cheese crisp-filled weekend in San Diego (with no respectable Mexican food in NY, sister Amy needs to overcompensate whenever near the good stuff) and it was the same as the week before. Exactly the same. Down to the .3 of a pound. M for maintain. I took it then and I was good. Today, I was hoping for another M. Praying, really, for another M. But, I lost 3.8 pounds! OMG, 3.8 - get out the tank tops! Throw away the cholesterol pills! That's down now 10.4 pounds in one month and with none of that hormone from a pregnant cow stuff that everybody else is taking. I'm trying to focus on what goes in my mouth. Adding up points in my head as I scan over an item. Eating more carrots than one would think is humanly possible. Trying to count calories (something I'm sure regular people do all the time). So I joyfully sat in my Weight Watchers chair and politely applauded as my new buddies got their little stickers for losing a bit here and there. It's sort of cult-like, this Weight Watchers. We all look to the leader for the goods, the advice, the inspiration, the deals at the grocery store, the really, really fat "before" photo. Everybody's so supportive, so nice, like an AA meeting without all of the smoking (from my social worker days, as an observer, people), with all of the folks listening intently to how hard it was to get through that holiday dinner at Mom's or cocktails with the boss or evenings at home alone when all you want to do is snuggle up with Ben & Jerry. It's hard. But these people seem to make it a little easier. Hi, my name is Lisa and I'm a food junkie.
"HI, LISA!"
Saturday, June 19, 2010
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