So, Peeps, I'm back at Weight Watchers. We just had our first meeting and oh, how different it is from the first WW meeting I was ever at.
They've gotten cleverer and cleverer and more streamlined. They've also really gotten good at defining and motivating weight loss. It seems stupid and cliche, but I really did leave the meeting feeling like I could do this. And not because I'm a total superhero, yeah man! but because one step at a time is all it takes.
Not unlike what Kate and Dawn have been saying here. Baby steps.
My weigh-in was 205.4. That was painful, but not NEARLY as painful as I thought it would be. If I can be at 205.4 and eat a plateful of cookies every night, think what will happen when I stop.
Hang in there with me. I don't want to look like this anymore. I don't want to feel like this anymore. The only person I'm hurting is me. I want to give myself permission to get out of fat jail.
Dear Krissy Poopyhands:
LET ME OUT OF FAT JAIL!
Love,
Krissy Poopyhands
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2 comments:
OOOOOH, I envy you. Wish I lived down the street from you. Because I can't do this with just me. I weigh in tomorrow, and know I didn't lose a pound. And guess what's for dinner tonight? KFC! Woohoo!
I need to find a way to scrape $73 a month together so I can join the YMCA with the family program- I get a 2 hour break from the kid, which leaves me with 2 hours to work out, because you can't leave the building. And I need a 2 hour break as much as I need a 2 hour workout, so I'd be there pretty much M-F. So I'm going to find a way to cut costs so that I have no more excuses.
Like a flooded basement without carpet. That's a GREAT excuse not to get on the treadmill down there. Nevermind that the kid and I play down there on a patchwork of throw rugs during the day, but NO WAY is it good enough to treadmill down there! Sigh.
Fat, fat, me. One step at time... I get it. Now make me do it!
Girl, hang with me. Together we can only be stronger, you know?
It's so hard being efficient and feeding and family and still eating right. I know that when Wallace gets home from day care he wants DINNER NOW and his toddler self can't handle waiting an hour while I prepare food.
Thus, the quick and fatty route.
Ugh. I'm just so sick of looking and feeling like this.
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