So. I joined Weight Watchers last week.
I was tired of not fitting into things that previously were my "fat" clothes. I was tired of worrying my boyfriend would be mortified by my enormo thighs, and I was tired of having half my body cropped out of family pictures.
I picked a location (Hancock Park/WeHo) I thought would be a mix full of people I could enjoy losing weight with--old ladies, religious Jews, and gay men. I felt supremely guilty when I snagged what I'd usually consider an amazing parking spot since I figured I should walk a little further to my weight-loss meeting. I dismissed this and decided my score (with 15 minutes left on the meter!) was a sign from Allah that I was making a good decision.
The meeting was being held in a totally nondescript building which I assumed was to attract the LA folk who were afraid to admit they were using a program instead of some trendy juice fast to get stick skinny. When I entered, another woman was looking around, lost and she smiled when she saw me.
"Are you going to Weight Watchers?" She asked. I suppose if you're ever asked if your purpose at a location is to go to Weight Watchers, you should go even if that wasn't at all why you were there.
I looked at her blankly and said, "Obviously."
Now might be a good time to note that this isn't my first time at the rodeo. Or even my second. Or third.
I've always been a heiffer, despite any sort of physical activity I engaged in (hello 4 years of high school water polo and swim team). I attempted Weight Watchers twice in my early 20's and lost a total of.....23 pounds which was not nearly enough to get me to even LOOK at a bikini.
And then I had some very impressively resumed surgeons cut into my internal organs and sever my stomach---otherwise known as gastric bypass. In a little less than a year, the pounds melted off and I lost over 130 pounds. Glorious. If only.
In hindsight, two things doomed me to failure. The first was that I've never been anything but fat, so I never missed being thin. I think that's a big factor in motivating people to lose weight, people like my mom who spent their youth and young adult years being perfect size 4's. I had no idea what that was like and so I wasn't desperate to get back to it, despite what one might think. And secondly, I've realized the time to engage in big life changes is not right after having a big life change. So moving to a new part of California, taking a new job, and then moving back to a new area with a new job in the year following my surgery was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.
And the third factor I have to admit was getting an amazing boyfriend who loved me no matter what. I'd had boyfriends who would let their eyes grow huge with horror if I ordered anything but a salad. Not Dru. He was all about the "Baby, you want gelato? I will get you gelato!" He is a gem....and I exploited the system and packed on the pounds.
So, this time, with a trip to Italy staring me down, I'm ready to get super serious. So serious that I went to Subway and didn't even order the low-fat, low-calorie sandwiches...I got a salad.
So Jesus H. Christ, if I weigh in tomorrow and haven't lost at least 5 pounds I will be so mad I ate that damn salad.
On a side note, I'm pretty sure I will have lost 5 pounds, since I'm a cheater and wore a pair of jeans to my first weigh-in. Said jeans will never be worn to weigh-in again. Hello, lightweight sundress....
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