Four months ago, on April 16, I rejoined Weight Watchers online, to try and get a handle on the “you can’t fool anyone by sucking it in anymore” muffin top. I stepped on the scale and there weren’t no runnin’ from the truth at 160. I’d put on a solid 20 pounds since quitting smoking on March 17, 2006. A solid 20. A toddler, essentially.
On July 14, 2007 (that would be this past Saturday) I decided to step on the scale again. (Which is not to say I hadn’t stepped on the scale for four months. Come on, now…people with obsessive-compulsive tendencies don’t get off that easy) but, I decided to get back to the program. You know…get back in line.
And there weren’t no runnin’ from the truth: 160.
That, my friends, is called even steven.
For those of you who are wondering how someone can’t lose ANY weight on a program for four months, I can clear it up very easily: I wasn’t following the program.
For the first three weeks, it was AWESOME! I ate within my points range, exercised every day, felt great and dropped 6 pounds. Then I got hungry.
The time I did Weight Watchers as a smoker was so easy. Hmmm….should I eat this 8-inch segment of baguette? or smoke? (Remember, smoking has NO POINTS!)
But this time…not so simple.
I started back to walking about a week ago. I’d taken about a month off with several valid excuses: 1. My wrist was all messed up and Chip was still here and she pulled too hard and I couldn’t use my other hand to hold the leash because my shoulder was all messed up too because I’m old and falling apart, and 2. I hate exercise.
So on Saturday, after that wholly depressing weigh in, I hit the road for my hour long walk around Como Lake, and I was breaking a sweat just trying to keep pace with a couple in their mid-seventies, who became an increasingly smaller image of tan polyester shorts and wide-brimmed straw sun hats, as they pulled further and further away from me.
As I’m trying really hard not to look like an arm-pumping ass, while simultaneously picking up my sloth-like pace, Prince’s Black Sweat comes on my iPod, and I started laughing out loud as he’s singing in my ear, because I realized the truth that there weren’t be no runnin’ from: I am never going to be "workin’ up a black sweat" because I AM WALKING.
But my wrists are doing a lot better. And, they’re super thin. So I have that going for me…