Reality Bites

So after beating myself up all day about gaining weight, I was in a pretty shitty mood last night. I made supper, which cheered me up a little, and I sat down to eat. My girlfriend was excited about the Greek wraps (with homemade hummus, made with only garbanzo beans and the juice from the can instead of olive oil, plus some lemon juice and garlic and tons of spices) and saganaki (baked, not fried, with some fresh baked pita chips). I was excited, too, because I've been CRAVING saganaki for weeks. I remarked that I was happy I had waited until she bought some cheese so I could make it, instead of caving and ordering the fried and breaded saganaki from our favorite Greek restaurant.

That's when I realized that, although I feel like I've totally let myself go for the past month, the reality is that I am still doing LEAGUES better than I would have been without Weight Watchers. Without having to track everything, I wouldn't have thought twice about picking up saganaki, plus some spanikopita, plus a whole order of baklava for dessert. I would have had three pieces of pie on Christmas instead of splitting a piece with my girlfriend. I would have eaten a whole bag of Hershey's Miniatures instead of picking out six and giving the rest away. I would have gone out to eat and ordered two appetizers, an entree, and dessert, all while drinking a regular soda and maybe topping it off with a Mudslide.

So yeah, it feels like I've fucked up. It seems like I've given up and gained all of my weight back.

But it's not so bad. I'm not so bad. I'm bad, but not as bad as I could be.

Which is pretty good.

Backtracking A.K.A. HOLIDAY BINGE FEST 2013

I am growing steadily fatter.

At 209 pounds, I was pretty fat. But since that was after losing 95 pounds, 209 did not seem very fat compared with being 304 pounds.

Now, though, I'm back to 215 pounds and I can see how easy it would be to let go and slide back into my old habits and end up 300 pounds again. Or more.

I've been tracking everything on my Weight Watchers app, but it doesn't do much good to track when you go over your Point allotment by 84 Points, as I did last week. Or 34 Points like this week. In fact, I've gone over my Points EVERY WEEK since before Thanksgiving. It's gotten so easy.

Now I'm back to the weight I was at in October. Three months of tracking, of passing shit up because, "No, thanks, I'm on Weight Watchers," three months of weigh ins and diet soda...three months and I'm back to where I was before Halloween. Fat. Fatter. Getting fatter by the minute.

I need to put on the brakes but it's hard. REALLY FUCKING HARD. This feels like starting over again.

Maybe I should actually start over again? Pretend like I'm 215 pounds and just now starting Weight Watchers. They have a new Simple Start plan that looks promising, and New Year's Day is less than 36 hours away. But if I say I'm starting on 1/1, I know there's a lot of damage I can do in a day.

So I'll keep tracking, even though the holidays have made me feel completely out of control. I feel like a food monster and I can't stop eating. So I'll eat, I'll track, and I'll hope that 2014 is really a new start.

Fuck Christmas, And Fuck Duck Dynasty

On Weight Watchers, you're allowed 49 weekly Points to use at your discretion so you can supplement your daily Points allowance. This week, I not only blew through those 49 Points before the week was half over--I also went over those Points by 84 Points.

EIGHTY FOUR POINTS.

84.

Fuck.

I get 33 Points per day. (33x7)+49+84= 364. So I've had 364 Points this week.

That's the same as 91 Cadbury Cream Eggs. Or 5.7 gallons of marinara sauce. Or over 7 and a half pounds of grated cheddar.

Gross.

I blame Christmas. I mean, okay, I truthfully blame myself and my weakness and my emotional overeating and my utter lack of willpower. But I do blame Christmas too. Why does it have to be so delicious? Why does everything have to look so tempting and be so easy to grab? And why do I have to put up with my family, mostly my father, while still struggling to push aside all of the hurt feelings and shitty self esteem they left me with after high school?

This Duck Dynasty business has left me feeling really sad because my dad, who claims to love me and who seems to also really love my girlfriend of eight years, is so vigorously opposed to A&E firing the dude. I've written here and there about what a dick my dad is, so my dad supporting a bigot and failing to consider my feelings is definitely not shocking. But it is sad. It hurts when I see friends on Facebook posting pictures rallying against A&E's awesome decision to fire Phil, and it hurts even more to hear my dad saying shit like, "This is great because the pendulum will start to swing the other way now. The right people are going to start taking back the country, and Obama will go back to the ghetto where he belongs." My dad's total ignorance of government and morality aside, it just feels so wrong to have a father essentially telling his daughter, "Hey, I'm so glad that we're going to continue to deny you equal rights, and hopefully we'll be able to take away your rights completely! Oh yeah, and you're definitely going to hell! Sorry-not-sorry!"

My dad isn't even religious. I've read more of the bible than him. He went to Catholic school so he pretty much just hates God now, and he's never ever expressed any concern about my soul. So why does he care if my girlfriend and I get married? Seriously, my parents like her more than they like me. Why would he want us kept apart? And why does he care so much if some semi-scripted 'reality' tv star lost his job after making totally asinine and cruel and ignorant and intolerant statements to fucking GQ? Really? Why?

 

But talking to him is pointless. I can't even begin the debate because as soon as he starts in, I already feel defeated and close to tears. I start thinking about how many times I thought about killing myself. How many times I came close. He doesn't know about any of it. I think about how truly surprised I was to find I had made it out of high school without slitting my wrists. I think about sitting in my bathroom with the cold blade of my favorite scissors pressed against my vein, debating with myself if my parents would be more disappointed in me for being a lesbian or for committing suicide. I think about the fear and shame I felt before I came out, and the fear I still feel sometimes just holding my girlfriend's hand in the 'wrong' environments. I think about the confusion I felt when I first realized that I liked girls and the terror I felt knowing it was 'wrong' to feel that way.

I think about these things and I can't have a rational conversation with him because it's not rational at all. People are making remarks, right or wrong, that are making young people want to kill themselves rather than live in a world that hates them. Why is that okay? Why wouldn't any rational person want to stop those words from being broadcast to young people who are still trying to understand their sexuality?

So on top of the normal stressful family Christmas, I also got to shield myself all day from Duck Dynasty conversations. Instead, I steered myself to the dessert table to ate until all I could think about was how full my stomach was. I tracked everything I ate, but I didn't even try to moderate myself. I was in a FUCKITALL mood and just didn't care. Now, of course, I'm still stressed and I'm feeling even more anxious about having Christmas dinner tomorrow with my dad and my great uncle who is even more of a bigot than my dad. But on top of all that, I'm also just sick with regret at how much I ate, and disappointment in myself.

Still, even though I want to say Fuck Christmas, I don't really mean it. I love Christmas, I love my dad (way deep down where it's hard to see sometimes), and I'm proud of myself for how far I've come. As long as I get over this pity party and make it through the next 24 hours, I can regroup, lose the Christmas fat, and put all of this behind me.

Fatty Fatty Two By Four

I'm having a fat day.

Make that a fat week.

You know how some girls have bad hair days? Well, my hair is frizzy and I hate it 90% of the time, so every day is basically a bad hair day. And until the past few months, I was always aware of my fat so EVERY day was a fat day too.

Things started changing, ever so slowly. I went from constantly thinking about my size to finally, after so many years of morbid obesity, allowing myself to concentrate on my life instead of my fat. I have fat days, but not single fucking day is a fat day. Not all of my thoughts revolve around being fat. I've been able to go to antique malls and actually shop, instead of spending my time in there carefully squeezing between shelves of glassware and praying that I don't knock over a $500 vase with my gut. I went to the mall and strolled into Victoria's Secret without flushing with the embarrassment of knowing every salesperson was wondering why someone my size was in their tiny store. Last week, I wore a pair of underwear that kept rolling down and I could feel my stomach hanging out when I sat down, but that annoying and uncomfortable day made me realize that I used to feel like that EVERY day. So things have been pretty awesome.

Now, unfortunately, I'm having a fat day and with good reason. I'm getting fatter. Plus, I'm in a rough spot. I'm so close to my next goal of being under 200 pounds, and I'm also right on top of Christmas and New Year's, two gluttonous holidays. Maybe not for everyone, but my sweet tooth really makes Christmas intolerable while trying to lose weight.

Can't...stop...eating...

Everyone around me knows I'm on Weight Watchers and that I've lost close to 100 pounds since last August, so people for the most part have been great about not tempting me with treats. My coworkers and family also know that I am utterly powerless around sweets, so they've even made an effort to have fruit and veggies around, and I offer to bring healthy sides to pitch-ins and family dinners. Still, there's really no avoiding sweets. One of my employees brought a bag of candy--mini Snickers, mini Twix, Hershey Kisses, Rolos, etc. I started off with one piece, then another, and before I knew it...the whole fucking bag was gone by noon today. Less than four hours and I inhaled 12 Points worth of candy.

Then I came home and my mom dropped by. She brought me some peanut butter balls (which most people call Buckeyes) and I ate two of them, followed by a fresh chocolate chip cookie. I meant to leave one for my girlfriend but...nope. I ate them all. Eight more Points down.

This week, I'm really ashamed to admit that I've gone over my weekly Points by THIRTY. Seriously. 3-0. I had Olive Garden one day, a pumpkin roll another day, more cookies and candy than I usually eat in a month. It's been delicious but terrible.

My consolation is that I am at least tracking, and tracking honestly. When I step on the scale next, I'll know exactly where each added pound came from. Then I can turn it around, hopefully.

I need to start working on my New Years Resolutions, but right now I'm just trying to make it to New Year's without fucking up all the progress I made in 2013.

So yeah, I'm having a fat day. A fat week. I've gained three pounds since my Wednesday weigh-in, and I'm still plowing through food like a ravenous goat. But at least it's a fat day now, and not a fat life. I've made some progress, even if it doesn't feel like much.

Back On Track

After several weeks of exceeding my Weight Watchers Points (like, by 50 Points! That's like just eating an entire pie, with toppings!) I finally managed to stay mostly within my allotment for the week. Okay, to be honest, I counted two hours of walking yesterday just so I wouldn't go over, even though my 'walking' was really taking an extremely slow shuffling tour of a Masonic temple with some elderly people, one of whom was wearing a prosthetic leg, so I probably shouldn't have counted this as exercise. But anyway, I stayed close to my Points and it paid off.

Down 3.2 pounds this week! That brings me to 208.8 pounds, down 95.2 from 304 pounds. Slowly but surely, right? I'm getting pretty close to losing 100 pounds, which is pretty awesome for me. Also, while I was at weigh-in, I saw someone who I haven't seen in a year or so and she was amazed at how much I've lost. It's so incredible to have people tell me how great I look! That's something you just don't hear much when you're over 300 pounds.

So even though I'm sitting here with a half-eaten plate of Christmas cookies on my desk, I still feel like I'm back on track. I'm trimming back, counting the Points of everything I eat, and trying to stick to my daily Weight Watchers goals. It's not easy with so much holiday cheer being passed around in the form of calorie-laden treats, but I'm getting much better at saying NO. "No, thanks! That looks great but I'm on Weight Watchers." It was embarrassing last year. Really, at close to 300 pounds (I was making some progress by Christmas last year) I felt like people were laughing at me when I said I was on a diet. I could almost hear them thinking "Sure, this bitch is dieting! I bet she steals cookies when our backs are turned and eats them in the bathroom." But now that I can see so much progress, I feel a little proud to tell people I'm sticking with Weight Watchers and passing on the treats.

I still eat what I want, but my Planned Indulgences list is working wonders for me. I still plan to splurge on some eggnog, one of those Hershey Kiss cookies, a Christmas Snickers when I get my stocking, and the full meal on Christmas Day. But knowing that I'm going to eat that delicious shit soon makes it SO much easier to say "No, thanks!" to the sugar cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, and candied nuts I see every day now.

I'm still hoping to lose a few more pounds before the end of the year, mostly because my work gives us gift cards if we work out enough or lose enough weight to earn one. I'm close but not quite there, and I could really use a $50 Target shopping spree!

As long as Christmas doesn't derail my Weight Watchers train, I should be down a few pounds by New Year's!

Feeling Like a Failure

It's the holidays.

I have to keep reminding myself of that. Well, actually, other people keep reminding me of that. Especially since my weigh in today. I gained 2.4 pounds since last week. Now I'm back up to 212 pounds. That's a big difference from the 304 pounds I started at, but also a far cry from where I wanted to be by now.

Seriously, though, Weight Watchers is making me start to hate the holidays. As much as I love getting into the Christmas spirit, I find it hard to separate the awesomeness of the season from the awesome treats that are around every corner. Gingerbread cookies, eggnog milkshakes, peppermint mochas, red and green Rice Krispy treats, Christmas tree-shaped Snickers, festive M&Ms, white chocolate Oreos, cupcakes with sprinkles...not to mention the beautiful buffets of cheeseballs, crackers, nachos, finger sandwiches, creamy dips, warm casseroles...it's enough to make me go fucking crazy.

Being a food addict (which, lets face it, I totally am) around the holidays is TOUGH, man. I mean, really tough. And it's so easy to indulge. You know, like, it's Christmas. It's once a year. Might as well have that white chocolate shake and finish it off with some cinnamon sugar cookies, right?

And I am really bad at succumbing to peer pressure. I've been so strong all year, but now I have people offering me treats and candy with the unintentionally evil, "Oh, you've done so well, you deserve this!" Or, "It's Christmas--time to reward yourself!"

It's obviously not doing good things for me.

On top of all the food, the weather here SUCKS so going outside for anything is a nightmare. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am just not good at pushing myself to get on the treadmill. So instead, I've been hibernating. My cardiac rehab therapy sessions are over, so instead of spending an hour at the hospital working out three times a week, I instead go home and start snacking until I decide on supper.

Plus, I've really fallen out of the habit of tracking my daily "Healthy Checks" on the Weight Watchers app. That whole eight glasses of water/three servings of dairy/five servings of fruit an veggies/two servings of healthy oils has been LONG GONE for me. Instead of eating an apple in the afternoon, I have a cookie. Instead of snacking on cherry tomatoes, I eat Chex Mix.

So today, I'm recommitting. I have a glass of water at my desk (for the first time in a couple months, really). I have two servings of veggies with my lunch. And I'm actually tracking it all. I've just come too far to ruin it all now, so I'm going back to the basics.

I felt terrible last Christmas, but I somehow made it through and kept losing weight, despite the food traps along the way.

Hopefully next week I'll be back under 210 pounds. That would be a nice Christmas present to myself. Much better than another glass of eggnog (okay, maybe not MUCH better, but definitely preferable in the long run!).

Suck It Up

Another gain.

 

BOOOOOOO.

 

I gained 3 pounds since my last weigh in on December 19. I'm back up to 269.4 pounds, for a current loss of 34.6 pounds. I'm not very happy about it. But, all things considered, that's not a bad gain for Christmas and New Year's Eve.

 

Unfortunately, I'm still not back on the right track exactly. I've stayed busy and moved more...but I've still been avoiding water, fruit, and veggies for some reason. I'll, like, get a bottle of icy cold water and then just sip around a quarter of a cup before letting it sit there. And my purse is stuffed full of apples, oranges, and even a kiwi, but I'm reaching for 100 calorie packs and Hershey Nuggets instead. I had to throw out two clementines, a kiwi, and an apple because they went bad in my purse. Gross. And not very healthy.

 

I'm a little discouraged right now. Gaining three pounds in two weeks over the holidays is not that horrible, but I felt like I worked really hard to stay within my allotted points each day. I was definitely more active--I've been cleaning up a storm, playing, walking around more. I passed over or strictly limited my portions of the totally tempting Christmas treats. I barely drank enough champagne on New Years to get tipsy. And I still gained.

 

I guess it wouldn't be so bad if everyone else had gained as well. But one of my coworkers stopped tracking altogether for the two weeks, ate and drank what she wanted, and only gained 1.6 pounds. And one of the guys lost 1.5 pounds after I saw him eating all kinds of delicious unhealthy lunches. PLUS, one of the girls (who was tiny to begin with...like, goes to Playboy mansion parties* and bartends in hotpants and a bikini top) lost so much weight she had to stop going to Weight Watchers meetings. Granted, this chick works out HARD and does a lot to keep herself in awesome shape, but all of this stuff added up makes me even more frustrated with how slowly I'm losing so far. Even though I'm really trying.

 

If I had lost the target two pounds per week, I would have lost 42 pounds by now. I'm 35 pounds lighter, but that's still slower than I'd like. And it's still hard to tell that I've lost anything, since I have so far to go. It seems like I got up to 304 pounds so fast (I didn't--I know I worked years to put on that much weight--but it feels like it happened overnight) and now it seems like getting down to a healthy weight for the first time in my life is a very, very distant pipe dream.

 

 

Still, as I realized while making my 2013 resolutions, losing two pounds each week this year would put me down to 165 pounds. That would be fantastic. And it's not that crazy of a dream. Yet, I don't want to set a deadline for myself. When I do that, I fail. I have a bad week, panic, decide I'll never catch up, and quit. This time, I'm taking things slowly. I'm trying not to let the bad weeks (like this one) bring me down. It's hard, but I'm serious about this. I'm tired of being fat. And I don't just mean looking fat--I'm tired of my fat trapping me and keeping me from enjoying things I can't do right now. I need to be healthier, and if I have a setback I need to put on my big girl panties and get the fuck over it. Everyone has bad weeks. Okay, I'm opening a bottle of cold water right now and I'm forcing myself to drink it all. It's time to suck it up and get back on track. I'm going to make this a good year! I owe it to myself. It's time. I'm ready.

 

*I know this is super creepy, but my biggest all-time fantasy has been to be in Playboy. That's the fantasy that kept me up at night in high school and college, and even now I catch myself wistfully imagining myself posing nude, stretched out on a faux fur rug with the Playboy photographer and makeup artists swarming around me. But I AM A FEMINIST. I majored in Women's Studies. I've marched in Washington DC for the World March for Women. I hate the thought of women losing their power. I should not be so absorbed with the thought of being objectified like that. But...I do think there's a lot to be said for a woman's capacity for sexual power, and I like to think that the sex industry and feminism are not mutually exclusive. There are many insightful articles, studies, books, and blogs about this, and they all put it more eloquently than I can. Women can use their sexuality and feel empowered. But I still feel dirty about wanting so badly to pose for Playboy. Right this second, I'm fantasizing about losing enough weight (and, of course, magically having taut skin, no stretch marks, still-large perky boobs, etc.) to send in my photos to Hugh. YEAH RIGHT. I'm turning 31 next month, I'm still well over 100 pounds away from a healthy weight, and gravity definitely took its toll on all 304 pounds of me (and it's only going to get worse as I lose my stuffing). But...I can't help but think about it. I promised myself for years (lying awake, crying, swearing that I'd start to work out and eat right the very next day) that I'd be Playboy-ready by the time I turned 30. I think that's one reason why turning 30 was so devastating for me. All throughout my twenties, I swore I'd lose weight before I hit the big 3-0. And I failed. Just like I failed to lose weight and shock everyone at my ten year high school reunion--another fantasy of mine. But...I guess anything is possible still.  Maybe one day I'll grace those legendary Playboy pages and make women and men stop on my page and trace every curve with their eyes. I'll toss my hair and arch my back and make my parents and my Women's Studies professors die a little inside. Um. Dream big!

 

Happy 2013!

If my old non-working scale can be trusted (it cannot) I have gained at least five pounds since my pre-Christmas weigh in. I'm pretty nervous about my Wednesday Weight Watcher's meeting, but I'm ready to finally see what damage I've done. I haven't given in to temptation TOO much (not anything like past Christmas food festivals) but my "Healthy Habits" have fallen to the wayside. I'm leaning on packaged food, candy, and diet cola while eschewing the fruits, veggies, and water I had been so faithfully ingesting. I need to get back on track, but I don't think it'll be too difficult. It's not like I've totally gone off the rails. Some of the girls at my work have stopped tracking for the holidays altogether, but I very sensibly poured my champagne into measuring cups before drinking, and tracked everything that passed my lips, no matter how shameful (cheeseball, anyone?). I wish my new scale would get here, but maybe it's best if I don't know until my meeting.

I'm also nervous about the body tape measure that comes with the scale. I have never been into measuring my body parts, regardless of the number of diets I've tried and failed. I just hate seeing how long that measuring tape is pulled out. It's easier not knowing. Now, though, I'm really curious. Even though my crappy, broken scale is telling me I gained weight, I do feel smaller than I have for years. My girlfriend even commented on feeling the bones in my shoulders. My ankle boots go on comfortably, instead of having to be tugged up over my cankles. So even though the initial numbers might make me a little sick, it will be nice to see those digits shrink as the next weeks and months of 2013 pass by.

And in case anyone cares, I've settled on some resolutions for this upcoming year. I hate odd numbered years, but for some reason I seem to have more New Years Resolution success on odd years. I gave up meat on New Years Eve 2003, gave up cigarettes on New Years Eve 2011, and I haven't touched either since.

2013:

1. Get Healthier. Continuing to eat right, move more, pay more attention to what I put into my body, and treat my body with more respect.

2. Stay Busy. Keep the house clean, do the things I've been putting off, stop wasting time, and keep my body in motion.

3. Get Frisky. Make it a priority to keep my girlfriend satisfied, learn to let go of my body issues and allow myself to be intimate, and use my new energy and healthier body to keep our relationship passionate and playful.

It's worth a shot. I have a whole new year ahead of me--I'd love to be able to stick to these resolutions this time. I started Weight Watchers in August of 2012, and I lost nearly 40 pounds by the end of the year. If I stuck with that (rather ambitious) pace, I'd be able to lose 104 pounds by 2014. That would bring me down to close to 160 pounds. That's crazy to even think about! But at least for now, I'm taking things one day at a time. First I need to survive January 1st at home with lots of time on my hands to cook delicious food. Instead, I'll try to stick to Resolution #2 and keep busy with something besides eating. Then on Wednesday is my weigh-in, and hopefully my scale will come in the mail. And then, one baby step after another. In, of course, the right direction.

Happy New Year!

Keep On Truckin'

Not weighing in this week is driving me CRAZY. After three days and nights of a veritable food orgy, I really need the reality check of getting on the scale so I can point myself in the right direction again. Alas, my meeting this week was cancelled and I still don't have a working scale, so I have to wait until next Wednesday to see my Christmas damage.

Seriously, I ate a lot.

I stayed within my Points for the week--but just barely. Like, when I got into the negative numbers, I went in and gave myself Activity Points for things like doing the laundry and playing with my niece and nephew. And then when I went negative again, I started scrolling through the food I ate and amending the amounts ('that 1/2 cup of mashed potatoes was really more like 1/4 cup...and I didn't finish that piece of cake so I'll only count 3/4 of it...'). There was just so much temptation. I didn't go crazy, but I did do some serious buffet-line-grazing. And I just had to "test" the nachos every time I stirred them. And it's not like you can have just ONE chocolate chip cookie when there's a whole bag just waiting to be eaten...

Now that Christmas is over, it's hard to get back into my good habits. I had a snow day yesterday, so we spent the day lazing around and eating leftovers. I knew it wasn't a good idea to bring leftovers home, but I'm a sucker for green bean casserole.  Extra cheesy.

My stockings were thankfully candy-free! I asked everyone to refrain from giving me sweets, so I ended up with tons of new earrings and trinkets and even some sugar free Jell-o boxes (score!). Plus, I got some awesome stuff for the kitchen. A new food scale, a really nice knife block and new knives, some stainless steel measuring cups, some measuring scoops with teaspoons and tablespoons on the handles, an olive oil mister, a garlic press, etc. So in between the bombardments of cookies and candy, I also got gentle reminders of my healthier habits.

It was also really nice to hear all of the compliments from my extended family--they last saw me about twenty pounds ago, so they can see now that I'm losing weight. And I only had to delete half of the photos of myself, instead of the usual 90%, so that was nice also.

I'm struggling to get back on track, and knowing that my next weigh-in is a week away has made me even more reluctant to be good. I'm still snacking on my girlfriend's candy, and I'm not drinking the water I was before. But I'm tracking everything, so at least if I gain next week, I'll be able to flip back through the last two weeks and see all of the bad decisions I made that showed up on the scale.

Hopefully I can reign it in before then, though, and actually lose a pound or two!

Surving Christmas

This is a ROUGH time to watch your weight!

All week at work I've had to dodge platters of fudge, brownies, cupcakes, divinity, homemade marshmallows, Oreo truffles, cake balls, cookies, peanut brittle, gingerbread, chocolate dipped candy canes, caramels, muffins...not to mention all of the store bought candy! Tree-shaped Reese's, white chocolate Oreos, Snickers, Kit-Kats, Caramellos, Heath bars...there have been mugs and bags of candy left on my desk, bowls and plates full sitting around on filing cabinets and desks, tins and baskets on the counters in the office kitchen. It's worse than my parents' house (although mercifully not as wrought with emotional eating triggers as being at my parents').

I've been strong, and I've actually been proud of my resolve. I passed up the platters, I gave the bagged goodies to my girlfriend and asked her to hide them from me and eat them quickly, and I had her hide the candy and only give me pieces when I ask for them. Last year at Christmas, I ate like I would never get chocolate again. I stuffed my face all day, every day. I did not pass up a single cookie or cupcake. I had piles of empty wrappers around me at all times. I emptied bags of Lindt truffles and gorged on boxes of Ferrero Rocher and chocolate covered cherries. I tried the white chocolate Frosty, the Reindeer Tracks Blizzards, the eggnog milkshakes, the gingerbread cappachinos. I baked rolls of cookies and dipped everything in the house in chocolate (marshmallows, cashews, cookies, Ritz crackers with peppermint flavor--they taste like Thin Mints--, candy canes, cherries, graham crackers, pretzels, everything) and then I ate and ate and ate. I couldn't even begin to guess how much I ate last year at Christmas, or how much weight I gained as a result. I just didn't care. I gorged myself with everything I could get my hands on.

Gorged is a good word. When I think of gorging, I think of ticks. Have you ever seen a really, totally engorged tick? When I first found my old dog on the side of the road on spring many years ago, he had a broken leg and was covered in ticks. The Humane Society guessed he had been outside all winter because his coat was so matted and caked deep with mud. The broken leg and resulting infection were more than they could care for and they were going to put him down if I left him. So of course I kept him, snuck him into my house (I was in college and pets were strictly verboten in university housing), and gave him a bath (I was as scared as he was--here was a strange, wild Rottweiler mix that I was told had been beaten and had his leg broken by a human, not a car, and I had no idea how he would react). He let me wash him and when I was done, I began inspecting him and cleaning his wounds, and I found so many fleas and ticks in his thick fur. I knew the flea shampoo would help with those vermin, but the ticks would have to be pulled out by hand. I started pulling them out, one by one, and then found a dense cluster of them latched in one of his armpits (if you can call it that on a dog). 

While I was pulling out all of the outer ticks, this disgusting thing was slowly uncovered at the center of the cluster. It was a tick, but it was the size of my thumbnail and a sickly yellowish-orange. Once I had pulled away all of the others, I had to get that monster. It had been sucking this dog's blood for so long, it was engorged to the point of almost bursting. I was using tweezers to gently detach the ticks head-first so there wouldn't be anything left inside the dog's skin, but this tick was so huge I couldn't easily get to the head. I used my fingers to pull the tweezers apart and released them around the tick--but it was so full and fat that it was soft, and the tweezers sank in like it was a marshmallow. I finally pulled it out but it was so gross and pale and full of blood that I never forgot that sight.

I ended up rehabilitating the dog and he became the love of my life. I named him J (J. Edgar Hoover) and I spent all of my time with him. And on more than one occasion, the thought of leaving him with no one to care for him saved me from killing myself. Not to be too grim, but I have dealt with suicidal thoughts pretty much as long as I can remember. There were several times after college in the lonely years that come with graduating from school to living alone and drinking alone and living as a drunk, unhealthy slob with no direction, that looking into that dog's eyes was literally the only thing that kept me from slitting my wrists or swallowing the handful of pills. I saved him and he saved me. When he died two years ago, I thought I would die with him. And when Rob died last year, I felt lonelier than I ever have before and I considered killing myself with the very slim hope that I might see Rob and J again if I did. But I was in a better place, and I had a girlfriend who loves me and got me through, and now I'm committed to living a healthier life and giving myself a chance again. In the year after moving in with my girlfriend I had begun to eat healthier and work out, and J loved going on the trails with me as I walked and jogged along. Then I got sick, had my open heart surgery, and we stopped jogging or even walking together. I wish I had been more active with him in the years after my surgery and before he died. But now I have another dog--as very different as a dog can be from another--and I hope to give him the active time I took away from J.

But back to what I was saying. Last year, I gorged myself until I really felt like that nasty tick I pulled out of J. I could barely move and I knew every part of my body was swollen with fat. I'm determined to not let that happen this year, so I'm doing that I can to control my sweet tooth. Besides passing up the treats and having my girlfriend hide my candy, I also decided not to make sweets this year. I gave my employees little gift bags instead of the usual cookies and chocolate-covered-everything, and I invited my parents over here to visit instead of going over there to help them bake. I'm also proud of this little change: I had volunteered to contribute to a charity bake sale, but instead of baking human food, I made dog cookies. I've made them before and they're so easy--it's 2 cups of wheat flour, 1 tablespoon of baking powder, 1 cup of milk, 1 cup of peanut butter, 1 tablespoon of vanilla, and 1/4 cup of honey. I mix the dry ingredients, mix the wet ingredients, combine the two, and then knead. I rolled it out thin and used a small Christmas tree cookie cutter and baked them for 20 minutes at 375. They turned out beautifully, and I divided them into snack bags. I made little "Merry Christmas" tags with a label saying they were peanut butter cookies for dogs, and included "To" and "Love" with blank spaces so people could give them to their dogs as presents. Some curly ribbon tied to each bag made them really cute--and they were a huge hit! They made money for the charity, and they kept me away from temptation. Plus, my dog really enjoyed the cookies I made him out of the scraps :)

So I'm finding little ways to sidestep the Christmas treat landmines that are planted around my life. I'm still staying on Plan and finding ways to be more active, and I have to say that this year feels more like Christmas than last year did. It's really nice to enjoy Christmas, instead of watching it pass by the television screen while I gulp down food without thinking about it. I miss J, I miss Rob, and I do miss making plates of goodies for everyone--but I'm slowly learning to replace those gaps with healthy food, meaningful activities, and spending time with the people I love who are still with us. I don't want to be a tick this year. I want to be a Christmas elf, spreading cheer instead of sucking it all away. That was super cheesy. But the point is, I'm having a wonderful Christmas and I think I'm helping the people around me have a good Christmas too, even if I'm not handing them cookies.

I Work Out (No I Don't)

There's something I'd like to share: I am lazy.

Seriously, I'm super lazy. Always have been. When I was in third grade, I would sit down in the middle of the soccer field and search for four leaf clovers. When I was in softball through elementary and middle school, I was the catcher so I wouldn't have to walk anywhere (I was a terrible catcher. I don't know why they let me do it. I would squat there, chewing sunflower seeds, halfheartedly tossing the ball back to the pitcher. By the end of the inning, the pitcher was always worn out from retrieving my errant balls and my sweaty face mask would be dotted with sunflower shells. Oy.)

My favorite part about any of the sports my parents forced me into was always, ALWAYS the snacks. Little Debbies, fruit snacks, Hi-C, Squeeze-its...they totally made it worth suffering through one crappy game after another. The entire time I was shuffling up and down the basketball court or relaxing in the dugout, I was fantisizing about the candy the parents would pass out when we were done. Working out was awful, but the candy reward got me through.

As an adult, I am even lazier. I ask my girlfriend to get everything for me. I have to sit down if I walk more than half a block. At Disney World, I had to have the next bench or low wall in sight before I waddled any further. Last year, I had to leave a haunted house through the emergency exit, not because I was scared but because I was so out of breath I thought I was going to pass out. Between my non-functioning heart valve and the chronic lung problems that began when I got sick in 2007, I have a good excuse to be lazy, and I pull the "heart problem card" all the time. I have my employees pick up papers from the printer for me, I make excuses to get out of meetings on the third floor because I don't want to climb the stairs, and I have even put off going to the bathroom because I didn't want to walk that far.

Seriously. So lazy.

Yes, the sloth is my spirit animal.

So one of the things that makes me nervous about Weight Watchers is the activity portion. I know that one of the major components of staying on Plan is to add activity to my life, but I have avoided it at all costs. I feel like I can't work out. I self-diagnosed myself as exercise intolerant. It's just laziness, but I don't trust myself to do too much.

One major scare a few years ago, the year after my open heart surgery, really made me never want to work out or increase my heart rate again. I had taken a tour of Mammoth Cave and we were on our way out. The exit required a trek up exactly 440 stairs--before we even hit the stairs, I was already out of breath, heart racing, and the very last person in the group except for the guide who was turning off lights behind me. I started up the stairs and barely made it a quarter of the way before I stopped, my legs quivering, pouring sweat. I began having my first true asthma attack...and guess who hadn't brought an inhaler? The asthma attack was bad enough, but looking up the remaining stairs made me want to die. The group slowly disappeared out into the sunlight and I was left with my nervous girlfriend and a guide urging me on. I got up another quarter of the way and then stopped and truly started to freak out. There was no other way out but up, and those two were NOT going to be able to carry me. Sooo...my asthma attack turned into a panic attack, and I was then convinced I was having an actual heart attack. I was so scared.

I was crying by then, shaking, and absolutely humiliated. I eventually made it up the stairs, one at a time, and had to make the ultimate walk of shame to the bus where the entire tour group was staring at me. Of course, I had to shoehorn myself down the bus aisle and I knew my face was a gross combination of green, gray, white, and bright red. I can't think of a time I was more embarrassed. That experience left me terrified of having another episode like it, so from that moment on I avoided all physical activity at all costs, particularly activity where I knew I'd be stuck if I couldn't go on (like hiking, which I love). And the longer I avoided moving, the less I began to move. By the time I started Weight Watchers, I was coming home and sitting on the couch for an hour before cooking supper, and then sitting on the couch for several more hours while my girlfriend got me drinks, food, and whatever else I needed. I pretty much only stood up to go to work or use the bathroom.

I'm extremely happy to say that things are changing.

It started when I was on the steroids--I had insomnia for several days, and instead of watching the television all night, I started cleaning. I organized cabinets, folded laundry, collected items to donate, sorted through junk drawers, and did everything I'd been putting off for years. I figured it was only because of the steroids but...well...I haven't stopped. I'm sleeping normally again and I've been off the steroids for a week, but instead of coming home and turning on the television, I'm straighting up the house, playing with the dog, or finding something to tidy up or repair.

This weekend, we went to an outdoor Christmas event and I didn't sit down once. I wandered along the canal and went into stores, when just months before I would have preferred to sit on a bench while my girlfriend walked around. On Sunday, I suggested we go to a Christmas display at the art museum and I walked so quickly through the grounds that my girlfriend struggled to keep up. Tonight, I went downtown and actually walked three blocks to meet up with my family, and then walked around for a little while, and then walked back to my truck--I NEVER would have agreed to do that before! I guess it's true what the commercial says: a body in motion stays in motion (yes, I realize that's a law of physics and not just a commercial). I'm definitely in motion.

And possibly even cooler? I haven't used my inhaler for weeks. I usually take a daily inhaler and then carry another one for emergencies--I stopped using both. I carry them in case I need them, but I have been walking around like a normal, healthy person and I haven't used an inhaler! Do you know how huge that is for me?!

Even though I don't see myself ever joining a gym (just the thought makes me anxious) or jogging around outside, I don't think I need traditional exercise to move more. I AM moving more. I'm walking, I'm going to events, I'm doing more now than I ever thought I would again. I had almost resigned myself to a life like the mom in What's Eating Gilbert Grape (I do need to talk about my grandmother at some point...I love her so much but ending up like her is my worst nightmare) so it feels incredible to finally get out and enjoy life. By the spring, maybe I'll even feel confident enough in myself to go for a hike--that would make me so extremely happy. No matter what the scale says tomorrow at weigh in, I am proud of myself. I feel like I'm slowly reclaiming my life, and it's awesome.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that the house is finally clean!

Thinking About Food

Man, I'm really trying to keep my mind off of food today. I have seven points to get me through Monday and Tuesday, and I've been unintentionally torturing myself all day by watching Christmas movies. All of the cookies and cakes, the baking and decorating, the big meals and steaming bread. Eggnog and hot chocolate and buttery rolls and nutty cheese balls. Mmm. This Simply Filling week is at least making me recognize when I'm missing out on.

In place of the foods I drooled over on screen, I made a big batch of tofu bacon (mostly a Power Food--the bit of maple syrup I add is less than one point) and some cauliflower. I also spent some time organizing the kitchen. I've been spending a lot of time in there cooking, and it makes it so much easier to cook a complex, healthy meal from scratch when the kitchen is tidy enough for me to find everything.

I put my tofu bacon on reduced calorie bread with fat free mayo and fat free bread, and loaded it up with tomato slices. It was actually better than I thought it would be. But I wanted to make something a little more appealing for my girlfriend, so I made some quick pizza dough and baked her a big, cheesy tofu bacon calzone. I stuffed it with three cheeses, brushed it with olive oil, and finished it at the end with some garlic butter on top. It's like I'm living vicariously through the food I make her--plus, I have to work hard to make sure she doesn't lose so much weight that I give up again. If I can't brush my food with butter now, someone should be able to. Yes, I used to brush my food with butter. Not always, but it does make baked stuff twice as delicious. My family cooks like Paula Deen (and I have been to the Paula Deen buffet and waddled out with a purse stuffed full of bread and desserts--it is truly a magical experience). That's the last place in the world I would want to go today with only seven points left! I would probably have a stroke.

Anyway, my girlfriend needs the extra butter so she doesn't waste away.

See, she's one of those natural thin people. I don't understand people like her. If there's a candy bar in the house, it amazes me that she doesn't even think about it. If there's candy in the house, I am pretty much thinking about it until it's gone. She doesn't eat dessert--I don't consider a meal complete until I have something sweet in my mouth. She eats until she's full and then stops--I have never been able to naturally do that. So she doesn't get my weight loss experience, not really. She's incredibly supportive and helpful and amazing, but she doesn't get it.

The hard part about being the one to cook all of our meals is that she eats what I eat. When I start a diet or my meals take a healthier turn, she starts dropping weight like crazy. It's like those weight loss pill commercials--I try and try and try to lose a pound, and she starts shedding fat like a candle melting. She's on medication that boosts her metabolism even more, and she's much more active than I am. It's all extremely discouraging. When I lost a little weight before, I got so impatient that she was losing faster than I was that I totally gave up after a one week setback. I'm not blaming her. I'm just saying: when I change how I eat, she's the one who reaps the benefits first. Being so much smaller anyway, it's obvious when she's dropped five pounds, while I'm having trouble seeing that I lost 30.

So aside from the vicarious pleasure it gives me to bake her up flavorful, cheesy, buttery recipes, it also helps make sure that she's eating more wholesome food without going on a starvation diet. I wonder how other people do it. I can't imagine raising kids and having to choke down fat free cheese on diet bread while they scoop up macaroni and cheese with, like, french fries and milkshakes. I don't know. Whatever kids eat. I just know that my girlfriend's calzone looked a hell of a lot better than my sandwich, but if I can make it until Wednesday on Simply Filling, I'll be extremely proud of myself.

Sometimes testing your own willpower can be useful.

Entertaining Myself with Marcel the Shell

It's after midnight on a Saturday and I don't have enough Points to drink tonight, so how do a hip 30 year old and her equally hip girlfriend party it up? With crafts, of course!

My internet patterns are set back about a decade--I loved back when checking your friends' AIM away messages was the closest thing to Facebook stalking, and I look back on chatrooms with fondness and Twitter with horror--so it's no surprise that I haven't caught on to Pinterest. My girlfriend pins things incessantly, but I just don't understand all of  the pinning and boards. When I feel crafty, I make a craft. Myself. Having a billion tutorials in front of me would be overwhelming, and seeing the other crafters' perfect finished products would drive me nuts.

So please don't judge me if this doesn't look quite right. I didn't have the right kind of shell, but I really wanted to make a Marcel the Shell ornament.

I love him! :)

I think watching the Marcel the Shell video should be mandatory for everyone. He's just so adorable and optimistic. And Jenny Slate is hilarious! It makes me sad that she didn't last on Saturday Night Live--her little F-bomb cost SNL a really awesome cast member. Boo. But then she wouldn't have made Marcel, and the world definitely needs Marcel the Shell.

Anyway, I'm staving off my hunger with pineapple, popcorn, and another Smart Ones as we watch Christmas movies and craft. I'm down to 13 points left to get me through Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. That's a little rough. Now that the weekend's more than half over, I think I can make it...but I definitely do not plan to try the Simply Filling technique again anytime soon. Maybe  if  when I reach my ultimate goal and start maintenance, I'll be able to sustain myself with Simply Filling and it won't feel like such torture. That's a long way off, though. Until then, I'm going to appreciate having Points every day and extra Points through the week, because this experience has taught me that not having them sucks!

The Food Trap

It's day two of my Simply Filling week and it's actually going alright. I was lazy with lunch and had reheated broccoli cheese casserole (6 points, leaving me with 39 points for the week), but I managed to have a Power Food-only supper and I'm satisfied. Well, for now...I'm sure I'll still have some kind of dessert. Old habits die hard!

Really, though, I guess I can only hope that supper counted as a Power Food. I'm still a little unclear on the Simply Filling rules, so I'm not sure if the two teaspoons of olive oil make the cauliflower a non-Power Food. So confusing.

Eating right at work was fine--apart from the casserole--because I just brought nothing but fruits and veggies and light yogurt.

Then I almost derailed completely when I encountered what I'm pretty sure is my biggest trigger ever--my parents' house. Wow. I stopped by for a little while after work and I had to fight SO HARD not to go straight to their junk food drawer. They have an entire drawer in the kitchen full of the most wonderful candy and chocolate. Hershey Nuggets, Snickers, gummy bears, fruit snacks, oatmeal cream pies, chocolate covered peanuts...all of my weaknesses. That's usually my first stop at their house. Then I check the jar next to the microwave to see if it's full of Plain or Peanut M&Ms. If they're Plain, I'll grab a few. If they're Peanut, I'll grab as many as I can fit into my hand (and maybe an extra mouthful too). God, I love Peanut M&Ms. They also keep chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar at ALL times. And today, they also had two bags of those chocolate chip cookies from McDonald's that were still warm and smeary with chocolate. You know, the cookies that are so greasy and delicious, they taste like they've been fried for a few seconds. They smelled so good.

But I did not have a single thing. Nothing. My mom had a bag of Cadbury chocolate hanging out of the side pocket of her purse. (Not a snack bag, either--like, a legitimate BAG of chocolate. Yes, my mother is diabetic, something that terrifies me. I obviously come from a long line of women who make healthy food decisions. My grandmother is somewhere around 460 pounds, but that's a story for another day.) Plus, there was an extra bag of Christmas Peanut M&Ms on the table. Oh, yeah, then she gave me a chocolate Advent calendar (six days into December, so a calendar with six pieces of chocolate demanding to be eaten).

Still, I didn't have anything. I don't know if I've ever gone over there without taking at least a fistful of cashews, a swig of pre-mixed chocolate milk, a chunk of cheddar or Colby, an ice cream sandwich, or some buttery crackers with Easy Cheese. They have all of my favorite comfort foods, and they have them all the time. It's honestly like being in a trap with everything I crave but know I shouldn't have.

It doesn't help that the kitchen is the center of their home, both literally and figuratively. It's the central location, it's where everyone goes to visit. I'm already dreading Christmas over there, which is just like a smorgasbord of deliciousness. We stand at the bar, surrounded by food, and I'm supposed to resist all of the temptation right at my fingertips?

I did resist, and I'm glad. I came home and ate a really healthy supper (steamed broccoli with tomato sauce, onions, garlic, basil, and fat-free mozzarella, sauteed and then baked with a little more fat free mozzarella on top; I served the veggie casserole with crispy cauliflower bites and I'm still full). My girlfriend ate the Advent chocolate, and all was well. But being at my parents' and working so hard not to snack dredged up some pretty shameful memories that I hate thinking about. My cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk full of chocolate or gummy candy, spraying whipped cream onto oatmeal cream pies and trying to shovel it all into my mouth before anyone came home, stealing candy bars or Little Debbie's one at a time to minimize the chance of anyone noticing.

I'm proud of myself for staying on Plan today. And I'm proud of myself for losing 30 pounds, even though I still feel so huge. And I'm proud of myself for being proud, instead of feeling deprived or bitter about missing out on all the chocolate.

On that note, I think I might have some fruit for dessert instead of a Smart Ones. Ha, just kidding, I totally want the Smart Ones. But I'll still have 35 points for the week, so screw it :) I resisted enough today!

Simply Filling?

In an effort to avoid my predicted prednisone weight gain, I'm thinking of switching to the Simply Filling plan on Wednesday. That's my next weigh-in and it'll give me a chance to ask my leaders a few questions first. Like: Do veggies still count as Power Foods if I cook them with the suggested daily two teaspoons of olive oil? The books say that anything cooked with non-Power Foods must be detracted from my weekly points. And does the 360 plan still include the Simply Filling option? I assume so, but I haven't taken the time to check yet. If I make a sandwich with Power Foods and non-Power Foods, is nothing in the sandwich a Power Food? So many questions! 

I'm trying to plan ahead so I can make it through a week of Simply Filling without going crazy/being a jerk to everyone/locking myself in a cabinet and devouring chocolate chips and frosting and sugar until I explode.

I already plan my meals a week in advance. I'm signed up for an organic food delivery service, so I know on Thursday what fruits and veggies are being delivered the following Friday. When I get my email on Thursday, I start building my meals and exchanging the items in the bin with other seasonal produce.

I make a (short) list of the other groceries we need, and then everything's mapped out for the following two weeks. Since I'm in charge of the cooking, we're both vegetarians, and I'm able to figure out the point values of the meals a full week in advance, planning ahead isn't a problem for me.

The issue is that I am constantly fighting my inner cheesetarian. I love cheese. Like, I LOVE it. If I could eat cheese for every meal, every day, I totally would. Cheddar, Colby, Blue, Mozzarella, Gouda, Brie, Gorgonzola, Provolone...any type of cheese.

Wait, that's not true. I do NOT like fat free cheese. I loathe soy cheese. I detest low-fat string cheese. So apparently I only like the most fattening cheese I can find. I knew this already. I think the 25+ pounds I've lost so far have all been attributed to cheese. I went from eating easily a cup of cheese a day (Recipe calls for a half cup? Hmm, two bulging fists full ought to do it!) to actually measuring out reasonable portions. UGH. I had totally forgotten what 1/4 cup of shredded cheddar looks like. It looks like what I used to eat while I was cooking the real meal. So depressing. And which cheeses are Power Foods? Yep...fat free cheeses. Despicable. I hate how they melt, I hate how they feel, and I hate how they taste. But if I want to eat anything delicious, I'm going to have to learn to enjoy fat free dairy products because otherwise, every recipe I make will count against my weekly points. UGH AGAIN.

So far I'm planning to make baked potatoes with spray butter, corn with spray butter, and a salad on Wednesday. Thursday will be soup (I chop up the leftover veggies from the delivery service, mix in a box of their organic vegetable broth, and then immersion-blend the hell out of it with a bunch of spices--it helps free the fridge before the Friday delivery). I may attempt some homemade bread if I feel better by then and this bronchitis isn't making me cough all over everything. Friday will be some kind of Italian-style tomato and broccoli bake with fat free mozzarella (UGH) and maybe some awesome cauliflower poppers (I only use two tablespoons of olive oil instead of 1/4 cup, and I prefer to call them "cauliflower bites" because "poppers" just makes me want to sink my teeth into a cheesy fried jalapeno popper...yum). Saturday will be tofu bacon and avocado sandwiches with potato wedges (I know avocados aren't a Power Food, but we need to use them and they're so delicious), Sunday will be ratatouille (again with the fat free mozzarella), Monday will be...well, I think I need to figure out a little more about the Simply Filling plan before I decide on any other recipes. I might be out of points by Monday. Who knows?

I just really hope this prednisone doesn't mess with me too much. I'd hate to have such a setback right before the holidays. It's going to take a lot of willpower to get through Christmas (I might love candy as much as I love cheese--it's a close call) and I want to be in a good place leading into it.

Great, now I'm stressed out and I really want a jalapeno popper. That means it's definitely time for bed!

Uh Oh...Steroids

A little bummed today. I finally went to the doctor today after a week of being sick. On a positive note, their scale registered 274.5 pounds, so either the doctor's scale is really generous and doesn't match the Weight Watchers scale, or I've managed to lose weight despite all of the mucus in my body right now. (That was gross. I'm sorry. But seriously, SO MUCH mucus. Ew.)

The bummer is that I was prescribed prednisone to treat a nasty case of bronchitis which, of course, started last Tuesday as a terrible sinus infection. I got a steroid shot today, and then picked up the 12 day prescription at the pharmacy. I'll be taking 40mg for the next three days, 30mg the next three days, and so on. I've been on prednisone quite a few times (there's my weird luck...or bad luck...) and one thing I know is that it always causes weight gain for me. That could be due to all of the usual subsequent variables--reduced activity from being sick and immobile, increased appetite from the medicine, water retention as a result of the leached potassium--but are these all things that I can control by sticking with the Weight Watchers plan? We'll see. I'm nervous. And, as I said, a little bummed. I feel better bronchitis-wise already, but I still have 11 days of steroids and a Weight Watchers meeting coming up on Wednesday.

Speaking of which, I'm still a little nervous about this new 360 plan they're supposedly telling us about on Wednesday. I knew Weight Watchers was making a big announcement, but after the meeting two weeks ago, I just thought that new activity tracker thingy was it. Not sure how I'm going to fare with the combination of a revised plan and steroid therapy. This should be an interesting couple of weeks. And then...CHRISTMAS. Yikes.

I think I'll use my last four points for some Wild Turkey now...I just freaked myself out even more. Oy.