This is Me on Weight Watchers
Today, I had squash for lunch. Hamburger for dinner, light bun, no cheese. No chips, potato salad or watermelon. Extra corn and tomatoes. Yogurt and granola for breakfast. Yesterday, I baked a cake and didn't have one lick of batter. Or icing. Not. One. Lick. I had a spinach and egg white omelet in the morning and pea & barley soup for dinner. Strawberries for dessert, instead of ice cream. I made a tuna salad for lunch last week. Not a tuna salad sandwich. Tuna. On Salad.
Last Tuesday I started Weight Watchers (again), and this has been me ever since. Bragging? Not really. Just...mystified.
Here's the deal. My body is involved in some kind of intense love affair with about 20 pounds. No matter what I do to separate the two, destiny brings them back together. I'm so used to these stowaways that I sometimes believe that they belong there. In 9 doctors' appointments last year, not once was I told to lose weight. I can run a mile (or more, but I get bored) without getting winded. There are even some photos of me in the last couple of years that I don't want to delete.
But once every few months I catch a particular profile view in a store window, or I get tired of waiting for half the clothes in my closet to fit again, and I head back into Weight Watchers. I must have 10 sets of "Welcome Material."
I never learn anything new. Once you're a POINTS counter, you're a POINTS counter. They switch up the program once in awhile, but it doesn't change. A cookie is always 3 points. A banana is always 2, and so on. It's nothing that I can't do on my own. Really.
Except that it is. Why I have to pay someone for the privilege of getting myself to a meeting and a scale once a week in order to make wise eating choices I will never know. But I do.
Matt says it's because I make a game out of it, the way I do with the grocery shopping. Maybe. I do come from a family of intense competitors.
Now if I could make a game out of housework...
Last Tuesday I started Weight Watchers (again), and this has been me ever since. Bragging? Not really. Just...mystified.
Here's the deal. My body is involved in some kind of intense love affair with about 20 pounds. No matter what I do to separate the two, destiny brings them back together. I'm so used to these stowaways that I sometimes believe that they belong there. In 9 doctors' appointments last year, not once was I told to lose weight. I can run a mile (or more, but I get bored) without getting winded. There are even some photos of me in the last couple of years that I don't want to delete.
But once every few months I catch a particular profile view in a store window, or I get tired of waiting for half the clothes in my closet to fit again, and I head back into Weight Watchers. I must have 10 sets of "Welcome Material."
I never learn anything new. Once you're a POINTS counter, you're a POINTS counter. They switch up the program once in awhile, but it doesn't change. A cookie is always 3 points. A banana is always 2, and so on. It's nothing that I can't do on my own. Really.
Except that it is. Why I have to pay someone for the privilege of getting myself to a meeting and a scale once a week in order to make wise eating choices I will never know. But I do.
Matt says it's because I make a game out of it, the way I do with the grocery shopping. Maybe. I do come from a family of intense competitors.
Now if I could make a game out of housework...
Comments
That would be an immense achievement for me.