Well, I’m going to do it. I’m going to bite the bullet and hope it doesn’t shoot me in the face.
I’m joining Weight Watchers.
I have spent the last few months kicking it around. I’m fairly certain that I still hate meetings but I will have two friends to tag along with so when the urge to snark hits me, I won’t be snickering to myself like a fool. There are a couple of reasons I think I need this.
I need the accountability. I don’t have anyone to tell me that yes my ass does look fat in these jeans and my hair could use a highlight but I still think you’re pretty.
I need a scheduled time out of the house. Since I haven’t gone and gotten the gym membership or signed up for the quilting class that I’m itching to take, I guess I’ll do WW.
I’m tired of being tired. And, honestly, it’s probably all the refined carbs that pass through my lips. Mmmmm…yummy, yummy carbs….Maybe eating better will help that? I’m told that it will. I’m told that it will make me want to get off my ass and go for a walk.
I am back to my regularly scheduled weight. I have been at the same weight for 10 years (except when gestating). I had lost nearly 30 pounds when I was in crisis mode. That was also around the time that I had an organ surgically removed (gallbladder). Since I am unwilling to lose another digestive organ, I will have to take another route. For the last 10 years (minus the 27 months that I was with child), I have been pretty much okay with my weight. I didn’t think a whole lot about it. I wore the same clothes. I was dating and then married. I ate what I wanted. It was all consistent. But now, after having lost some and gained it all back (in a very, very short period of time) I am not happy.
I would really like to have a breast reduction. The girls out front have served their God-given purpose. They have nourished my babies. And I am done hauling them around. A nice, average C cup is in order. And a breast reduction will be my reward. I am going to do it. I am going to do it for me. The BMI charts say that I should weigh about 45 pounds less than what I currently do. So that’s my goal. Doing it for me; doing it for my knockers.
Stir up the brownie mix and somebody get me a cupcake because I’m pretty sure they’re going to take it away.