- Okay, I'm totally busted. I re-joined.
- Am I allowed to say Weight Watchers on here, or will the WW police show up and shut a girl down?
I was doing pretty well. After the first week, I tracked my weight, and found I was down two whole pounds! I danced my way to the coffee maker that Friday morning. And I danced all day. Well, I danced while no one was looking.
I was feeling so good about myself, the next week, I kicked it up. Measured food portions, journaled every bit that went into my mouth, did cardio for 25-40 minutes 5 days that week. That Friday morning, I pulled out my scale feeling pretty good about what was about to happen. You know that cartoon face, where the dude's eyes bug out, the jaw hits the floor and the tongue rolls out? Yep, that was me. I gained a pound.
I GAINED A DAMN POUND.
After a short bout of wallowing in self-pity, I decided there MUST be something else going on. Water weight, right? So, I got back on that horse. Subsequently, I also got a wicked cold. Oh, and let's not forget our dear hormone friends. For two weeks of feeling just straight up bad and needing to feed my cold comfort food (carbs, anyone?), I couldn't bring myself to step back on the scale. I got it together, started exercising again, and three weeks after the great scale debacle, I cautiously stepped back on the scale. I got off, made sure it was correct, and got back on. I was down an additional 4.5 pounds!
Logging that new number has upped my chutzpah level tremendously. It has helped me pass up the Doritos and make a commitment to exercising. Heads up, y'all. I've got a cute vintage baby blue brocade dress I'll be rockin' this spring. And it will fit like a glove.
