None of the Above

Yes, it’s true. I finally decided to halt my Weight Stagnation Journey, meaning, I decided to launch my Weight Loss Journey.

And I settled on Weight Watchers. Yup.

As much as I would rather prefer to have my fat sucked out and live on T3s and power shakes for a week, I am terribly claustrophobic. Being knocked unconscious gives me the fantods something fierce.

I don’t care about the scarring. I’m insanely modest and no one has ever seen my belly and survived to tell the tale. I just dread being unconscious and possibly dying for such a vanity.

So I joined Weight Watchers. And joining Weight Watchers has been a whole new journey unto itself.

First of all:

Joining

I’m not a joiner. Not as such. So the idea of “joining” an online or offline community fills me with, you guessed it, the fantods. I am not very “group” and those who know me personally are nodding. Case in point, I went to IKEA today with some of my Momfia (my FB mommy group) and they were keen to make sure to get a selfie because it was so rare I was:

a) in public and

b) in a group of more than three.

So meetings weren’t for me. I don’t devalue them, I just can’t get out of the house. Literally and figuratively. I can’t do it.

And sit in a group.

And Sharing

In the light. The noise. People moving. Talking. Motion. Yup. I’m sweating as I type.

I know the meetings work. I know it’s important to share and have a sense of community to break the isolation. I just can’t do it. When a journey to the mailbox is a tweetable for someone like me, we’re talking agoraphobic.

Then I gave my head a shake. It’s not like I HAVE to join any groups (I wanted to start one though: The Great Void of Nutella Impulse Control).

Weight Watchers had a few other hoops for PLMs (People Like Me). They had questionnaires and forms. Not many for the average normal human. Nearly insurmountable for me. To wit:

• My height, weight, and age (f*ck you, don’t even ask).

• And my background (nice girl from a nice family… but that wasn’t an option).

Your Background

This is where it got hard. My husband laughs at me because I always want to submit amendments to any online questionnaire. Number 3 was the sticky wicket (I’ll retype because the photo I included for authenticity is blurry):

My biggest challenge when it comes to weight loss is:

• Sticking with it for the long term
• Fitting it into my busy life
• Giving up the foods I love.

Like my “good” clothes from Melanie Lyne (who probably wishes I hadn’t given them the shoutout), none of these options fit.

• I can stick with things.
• My life isn’t busy.
• I’m not a foodie. Sure sure, I have a penchant for Nutella, but that didn’t make me fat.

I’m absent-minded. Seriously. That’s my claim to fat fame. I nibble, then forget later I already ate something, then I graze some more. Yup. That’s it. I’m a forgetful fattie. I know I’m not supposed to say “fattie” because this suggests that I = Fat. But hey, it’s the discourse in which we live.

So… there was no “forgetful” option. I chose “Busy Life.”

Your Lifestyle

Again, the photo’s hard to see. The big question (again, not that I’m paranoid, Number 3):

What would you have a hard time giving up in a weight-loss plan?

• Sweets and desserts
• Fast food
• Drinks
• I have a dietary restriction
• All or some of the above

Bad choices. They should have had an “other” option or a “none of the above” option.

• I am not a sweet-desserts person.
• I never drink.
• I don’t do fast food.
• No restrictions.

I’m a forgetful nibbler. And why don’t they put in “savoury” is my bonus question? Put chips in front of me and stand back.

So I had no choice really.

Now having said all this. I started the diet on a whim last Saturday afternoon. My friend, Terri had success with Weight Watchers and as she’s my evil twin, I decided I should go down that dark path. So on aforementioned whim, while hubs was out shopping, I joined up online.

Then realized my folly:

I had gone to IKEA the day before, and that very morning, I ate one-half of a cinnamon bun. And the kid didn’t finish his cheeseburger from the night before so I, having been raised by Depression-era parents, tucked into that for lunch.

I had blown half my day in 11 minutes.

Hubs came home, I forgot I already ate. As I prepared to eat a second lunch….. yup… a SECOND lunch… 

See? Forgetful. I almost dove into my second lunch before I looked at my handy-dandy app and realized what I had done to myself. Hey, I only ate HALF a cinnamon bun, but look at its impact! One-fifth of my day right there (half a bun, not the whole thing). And I ate 3/4 of a cold burger. I was too lazy to look up the cheese slice so I just called it a whole burger. Yup. I ate, forgot I ate, went to eat again. 

Think I’m kidding? I’m that person who has to log onto something to figure out what day it is.

Oh bless you, little app.

By dinner, I figured it out. Fortunately, I nibble so eating raw veggies all day and night is ok by me.

So now, as one full week approacheth, the verdict so far? 

Two thumbs up. And did I mention IKEA above? Yes, I went to IKEA today and did not have the cinnamon bun. I had five meatballs, a green salad. 

I am saving myself for Chapman’s Black Jack Cherry Frozen Yogurt. And that’s ok.

And that part about my not having a sweet tooth? That’s just bullsh*t.

Yeah, you learn a lot about denial on Weight Watchers.