I can't quit you, Weight Watchers.
If you have read this blog for a while, or have the luck of knowing me in "real life" (said with sarcasm) then you know I was on the Weight Watchers late last summer/fall. And I kicked ass...almost 30 lbs. of it. I think my last recorded number was 28.6 or something like that. I round up, you know. But awfully close to 30, which is an amazing amount of weight to lose.
But then, like everything else I seem to pick up and excel at, I stopped. I stopped on October 29, 2012, which also happened to be the day I went to court with my ex-husband. Hmm.. coincidence? I was a bundle of nerves leading up to that day, and the endless waiting for the judgment turned me into a food vacuum. Throw the holidays in there and it was like the Perfect Storm of emotion.
Give me a feeling and I'll give you a hundred different ways to eat it. I'm like the Barefoot Contessa of emotional eating.
I fell off the WW wagon. Actually, threw myself off is more accurate. I rarely do anything half-assed.
Oh, I knew what was happening. I noticed my clothes getting tighter, felt my stamina slipping away, woke up with that nasty heartburn again. Every other morning I'd wake up and tell myself, "Jenny, today is the day you're going to do it again. You don't need Weight Watchers, that's just a scheme. A money making scheme. You can do this yourself!!!"
I tried it on my own, just keeping mental notes about what I ate. Like running a caloric tab in my head. Ha.
I downloaded a Faux WW app onto my phone. Gave up on that one when I couldn't figure out how to use their "Pretend Points" calculator.
Finally I decided to do Weight Watchers online. The commercials made it look good and easy. Cute couples, the solo lady with the smart gray haircut joking about wine...hey! I could do it just like them!
I made it about 3 days doing the online thing. That's when I decided to finally be honest with myself and admit it:
I CANNOT DO THIS ALONE. I just can't.
It's humiliating and embarrassing to admit. I'm funny in this way: It's pretty much impossible for me to lie. Seriously...I get nervous and all moral and start to sweat. I'll never be a professional liar. But for some reason, I can lie to myself with out batting an eyelash.
One night, a couple of weeks ago, I found myself lying in bed, eating the remains of a bag of pita chips. Yes, lying there because sitting up and shoving them into my mouth would have required too much effort. And then, one of the kids walked in. Walked in on me doing this.
Now, there are many things you could be doing in your bedrooms that you wouldn't want your kids to walk in and see you doing. Seeing as how I'm a self-loathing celibate single person, my list is probably not as long as most of yours but still...there are things you just don't want their innocent little eyes seeing. (For the record, the number one thing I don't want anyone to see me doing is putting on pantyhose..yes, that tops being caught having sex, alone or otherwise)
At that moment, I saw myself through my child's eyes. Opening mom's door, her bedroom a maze of pictures and scarves and fleece jackets and sensible shoes and laundry baskets...and where is Mama? Oh, there she is, in her bed, on her side like Jabba the Hut, a crinkly bag of Stacy's Pita chips laid out next to her like a little newborn baby. There are crumbs on the sheets and on the front of mom's pajama top (which is a big Dave Matthews t-shirt but for the sake of storytelling it's a pajama top). It's ten o'clock at night and she's watching Psych on Netflix and she's eating those pita chips like it's her last meal.
I sat up quickly, made what I'm sure was a lame comment about how I hadn't eaten much that day and I was "starving" and rolled myself out of bed to throw the bag away. My kids aren't judgy beings, and I cannot think of a time they've pointed out my atrocious eating habits, but I knew what this child had seen wasn't good. I mean, eating in bed, late at night, while watching t.v. (although, I must say that Psych is hilarious). Come on. I spend many hours a day lamenting my four freeloading roommates and their horrible habits...gee I wonder where they learn this stuff?
And that was it.
The next day I did a big shopping trip and prepped my kitchen. The day after that I called Weight Watchers and had my Online subscription upgraded to a Meetings one. And then, the day after that one? I walked into my old Weight Watchers store and got on the scale. Sweet Esther, the woman who checked me in, listened to me babble about how I tried to make it on my own and how I needed help...and then she looked at me in a way that kind of reminded me of a painting of Jesus surrounded by little kids and also how an asshole ex-boyfriend would look at you when you showed up at his dorm after a night of drinking peach schnaaps and listening to The Cure. I decided to go with the Jesus one and when Esther said "Welcome Back, Jenny" I swear I heard angels singing. Or else it was the woman on the scale next to me.
So, I'm back at it. I may write Weight Watchers updates, and I'm tinkering with the idea of posting my actual weight, which right now is in Man territory. Yes, I'm 100% sure some of your husbands weigh less than me right now. And not just the short skinny ones. But, it's less than I was last summer when I first walked into that store. Which is a positive.
My first week is over and done, went to get weighed in this morning and decided to stick around for a meeting. And as much as I loathe meetings of any kind, I'm glad I went. It's nice to be in a room with dozens of other people who have admitted that they can't do this alone. Makes me feel less weak.
Esther/Jesus was there again, and she acted cool like she didn't remember me. I took off my giant Uggs and my huge fleece jacket and stood before her clad only in my XXL yoga pants and a long sleeved tee from Target. Stepped on the scale.
Esther/Jesus said: "You did good this week."
Yep...I did good. With a little help.