Weight Watchers Update

I attended my fifth weight watcher's meeting tonight. I stayed exactly the same. I guess I can't complain about that. Andrew and I threw a surprise brunch for my parents this weekend, and it was an eight course, six hour meal at which I ate plenty. I've been doing this for five weeks, and I've lost 3.6 lousy pounds. Granted, four of the five weeks were over the holidays, during which time I likely would have put on a few pounds were I not watching my weight. So it's okay, really. It was just easier before.

There's nothing too terribly interesting to say about it at this juncture, except that it's hard, and it sucks, and I'm sick of thinking about it. So there's my update on the topic.

245 / 248

I weigh a freaking lot.

There's an interesting thing that's happening to me, as I embark on yet another weight loss epoch. It happened to me last time as well. Prior to starting weight watchers, the most frustrating aspect of my weight is the clothing situation. Most of my pretty fantastic wardrobe doesn't fit, and if it does fit, the clothes don't look right. The clothing difficulty paired with not enough energy are really the parts that compel me to try to knock off some weight. In other words, I don't feel that badly about the whole thing. After beginning, though, it's like something becomes clear. I start to see myself at my actual weight and I could just die. I'll catch a look at myself in the mirror and I'm surprised to find that I look so bulky. I'll posture in front of the mirror until I find an angle that's somewhat acceptable, until I realize I'm ridiculously contorted and look like a lunatic. My point here is that it doesn't happen until I've started to address the issue. Starting a new regimen of being healthy is supposed to make a person feel better. Not worse. And this phenomenon has occurred more than once in the same way.

Aside from surprise attacks of self loathing, I suppose it ain't so bad. I do feel better. More healthful, already.

I'll never get a grip on the fact that people who don't have issues with food have no fucking clue what I'm talking about when I talk about it. All I have to do is say the words "weight watchers" and people go through a weird mix of being self conscious, overzealous in concealing their embarrassment and then hasty retreat from the topic. This dynamic used to fascinate me, but now I'm just a little bored over it. I'd just love to love food a little less, to have it mean less to me and to be less compelled to interact with it. And yes, I chose the right word there. I do mean interact. But see, if you're reading this and don't have a problem with food, you would never choose the verb interact to describe what you do with food. I'm not even sure what I'm trying to do by writing about it. So never mind for now.