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:
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.
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).
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.”
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
- 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.