I have been drinking the Weight Watchers kool-aid on and off for 7 years now.
I mixed up another pitcher today. It was either that or try to find a way to shut down all the Mexican restaurants. And Which Wich. Even though the new Points Plus plan seems complicated, and even though I once shut down a Burger King, I just didn't think I had that much power. Off to a meeting I went.
I exercise every day. I try to make healthy decisions when I'm not eating Mexican food and hot, customized sandwiches. I just wish the number on the scale (and my Kardashian-like physique minus the well-endowed chest) was smaller.
What can I say? Weight Watchers works for me. Strangely enough for reclusive me, it's going to the meetings. Of course if you've ever sent me an email, facebook message, text or looked at my paper calendar, you already know I'm horrible at electronic things and the on-line program would never work for me.
But I remembered today what doesn't work for me about Weight Watchers meetings. The same thing that irritates me everywhere.
Obviously I am excluding myself as one of the stupid people at WW, you know, me who wisely keeps gaining and losing the same 15 pounds.
Weight Watchers is like the Internet. You know how maybe once a year some old relative finally sets up an email account and discovers the wonders of the chain email and must forward them to you? A great deal of time is spent at the meetings by people like that who have just discovered Equal or zero-calorie spray butter.
One of the questions the leader asked today was "I feel satisfied when I eat (insert food here)."
Good, new Weight Watchers were shouting out good answers like salad and chicken and Greek yogurt.
I kept my mouth shut, but all I could think about was Mexican food. C'mon people! Let's be honest. There's a reason we are here and it's not our issues with eating lettuce.
Maybe the meetings work well for me, because each week I go and I listen and sometimes it feels so torturous I think to myself if I would just stop eating tortilla chips I'd never have to come back to one of these things.
That's not likely to happen though. At least I know, worst case scenario, I can always change my last name to Kardashian and dye my hair dark.
The Pastor is on his way home from his Israeli adventure. Maybe seeing all those camels made him miss my humps and curves. I hope he likes an ample woman.
Good thing about me: Seven years later and I haven't given up. This bodes well for my relationship with the Pastor.
Grateful for: coats, gloves, scarves, heat, my tea kettle and anything warm!