Accountability

My wagon was all over the road this weekend. I had so many moments of utter despair and mindless eating, but I always tried to get back on track as soon as possible.

Today was my day to weigh in.

We have a coupon in our books that we can use to get out of weighing-in. I almost used it, because I knew I had gained weight this week (I have scales at home, of course). Then I decided to be accountable and step up to the plate. I told the receptionist I had a bad week, and to please write down my weight without comment and without telling me how I did.

She said, "What if you didn't gain?"

I said, "I did."

I made it until the end of the meeting, but I had to peek. I gained .2 pounds. Ha. One-fifth of one pound. And I thought I had ruined all my recent success and was ready to chuck the entire program.

Glad I peeked. It's not so bad, and today, I'm riding along quite contentedly, and I'm staying on my program.

Hanging on to the Wagon for Dear Life

Today's an icky day. I should have taken the day off, but I put a co-worker ahead of my own needs and wants, and now I'm fuming. The day started off raw.

I was bored and angry about being on call from 6 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. today, and I released my fury with a vengeance on all my piles of paperwork in the kitchen. Drawers, bags, stacks of hidden paper revealed expired coupons, unopened mail, and a million things to be filed. I can't believe how much I got done.

But then I still didn't feel okay. And, to add insult to injury, I received another court document from my ex that I needed to respond to. So I sat down and typed up an emotional formal response, finally bringing his alcoholism to the court's attention. It was brutal to write, and worse to feel.

I want to eat. I did eat. I haven't counted all my points, and I'm sure I'll conveniently "forget" about some of them that came from my son's Easter stash. Ugh.

I just had a Weight Watchers dinner, and I'm trying hard to hang on. I'm almost finished with my third week, and I just can't blow it now.

Momentum

I made it through Easter without going into a sugar coma, and I had another good weight-loss this week. I'm so excited at the thought of losing this extra junk under my skin.

I'm dreaming of summer and beaches and sun... I'm imagining wearing shorts without fear and going for long bike rides on my weekends without the kids.

I decided not to tell anyone at work about Weight Watchers. I can't wait until they notice. :)

Bye Bye, Boobies

The good news is that I'm doing fantastic on the Weight Watchers plan this week, and I can't wait to weigh in on Monday.

The bad news is that I think all 5 of those pounds disappeared from my bra. Bummer.

Estelle's words have been ringing in my mind all week. She mailed me a hand-written postcard telling me how special I am and encouraging me that I can do this. I believe her (with only a hint of skepticism).

I know the first week is typically a very large weight loss that's mostly water, and that subsequent weeks will not show such drastic results. The rest will be slow... and sometimes discouraging... and I have to hang in there till the end.

I'm sort of afraid to be thin again. I wonder why?

Here We Go Again...

Groan... I'm embarrassed. I can't believe it. How many times can a person start over?

I started back to Weight Watchers on Monday, and I feel determined this time (ha - just like always).

My best friend says diets don't work. But eating my way and just trying to work in exercise when I could just wasn't working for me. I don't know how to eat right. I have to have someone hold my hand and reteach me every single time. My sense of portions gets askew. I become oblivious to what exactly goes into my mouth in a day. I have to start over.

Again.

So, enter Miss Estelle, a darling little Italian woman of 79 - my new Weight Watchers leader. When I first entered the room full of mostly older, very overweight people, I wondered if I could be inspired there. But Estelle is a dynamo, and she gave me my new mantra, "As much as he stresses me out, that's how great I'm going to look!" I love her already.

Estelle held me after class, explained the changes to the program since the last time I visited, and gave me lots of personal tips. I'm doing everything she told me to do. Consequently, the scale is dropping numbers like no tomorrow, and I'm living in the bathroom - just like she said I would.

I feel like I'm wearing a path in the carpet from my office to the bathrooms. I can't even sit through a meeting without squirming. The drive home? Nearly intolerable.

But... it's coming off. Yes, it's coming off.

This morning on the treadmill, I visualized the fat melting off my body, leaving me energized and lean.

I have hope.