I've been on Weight Watchers for a few months now. I've done really well considering the holidays and the large amounts of breads and sweets that have been calling my name and singing me sweet nothings in my ear. I had a glitch a few weeks ago and didn't do so hot. I only gained .02 lbs in 2 weeks, but I would have liked the scale to have gone down.
As of today I've lost 13.2 pounds. I've gone down 2 pants sizes and now have nothing to wear. And I refuse to spend a lot of money on clothes that hopefully will be to big on me in a month or two. The larger size clothes look just plain ridiculous on me. And the smaller clothes? They still mock me while hanging in the closet. I did manage to buy a plain black pair of dress pants that I've worn two days in a row. I know, I know, that's horrible. But I don't have any other pants! (Read: send money or gift cards for new pants.)
So, as I said earlier, I've been doing this diet for a few months now and I feel pretty good about losing double digits. I feel good that I can't wear my larger size jeans anymore. I feel good that a few people have noticed that I look thinner. I feel good that all my hard work is paying off. Finally, I'm making some progress.
As I'm plugging away Eric's been watching me do this diet. I cook almost every night of the week and lately it's been a slew of new recipes from the new Cooking Light Annual Recipes 2008 cookbook. (It's a fabulous book with some really awesome recipes.) Eric watches me measure the portions for myself and weigh food on my handy new kitchen scale. He started asking me how many points is this? And how many points is that? He was shocked when I told him that there was some obscene amount of points in some candy bar he had just finished eating. It was so many points that if I would have eaten it, I would have not been able to eat for approximately 8 years.
One day, about 2 weeks ago Eric decided that he wanted to lose a few pounds too. So I looked up how many points he needs per day (he gets 30 points versus my paltry 23) and he started writing everything down like I do. I was so proud of him and willing to do whatever I could to help him. I know losing weight is not easy. I made sure to tell him how much the portion size was for whatever I made. We looked up nutrition information online for restaurants he'd been to and I gently reminded him that lite beer is 2 points each and that if he had 7 beers, he might as well not eat dinner. He followed the diet to a 'T'. In fact, I now hate him and his dieting.
A few days ago he came into the living room where I was playing with Jackson on the floor. He said he thought something was wrong with our scale. I asked him why he thought that. He replied with, "Well, I lost 8 pounds". So I promptly run to the scale and weigh myself, careful to make sure he doesn't see the numbers because I'm an open book and all, and I like to share things, but not THAT much. The black line flashes a few times and I just know that when the number pops up that it will be the wrong number and all will be right with the world. Guess what happened?
That damn scale isn't broken. It's working perfectly fine. Eric lost 8 WHOLE FREAKING POUNDS IN A WEEK. What the hell. I work my ass off for MONTHS and all I get is MAYBE 1.5 pounds a week on average.
Yes, I'm aware that men lose weight faster than women and they have more muscle so they burn calories faster, and it's mostly water weight blah blah blah blah. But I wanna lose 8 pounds damn it. In one week.
Alright, I'll stop my whining and moaning. I cannot change it so I might as well just get over it.
And maybe add some extra butter to Eric's food next time.