I woke up with my subconscious screaming, "Stop the insanity!" On the day before the Super Bowl, I dined with friends at one of those restaurants serving continuous meats on a sword and endless salads, lobster bisque, vegetables... It was truly the Last Supper! Still feeling stuffed, my mind wandered back to the beginning of my career when we had Weight Check. My maximum weight in 1984 was set at 112 pounds. This was figured according to my height--in my case, the lack of it. Weigh-in was once a quarter. Before applying, I faithfully went to Diet Center first thing every morning to lose 17 pounds. I walked around my block four times a night-- the equivalent of two miles. I wanted to quit, but I would look up at the sky, see airplane lights and kept walking. So, what happened?
Over the years, we were given five extra pounds, and eventually my maximum weight was changed to 132 pounds--extra was given for age. I don't remember the exact time Weight Check was dropped altogether. A good thing? I'm not so sure of that. Incentives come in all kinds of packages. From observation, I think the biggest incentive is divorce. Not an option. Self pride? If I get a cute hair cut and wear expensive makeup, will anyone really notice? Health? That's a good one until about four o'clock in the afternoon. I'm already postponing my doctor's appointment until I lose weight. I bet I'm the only person to do that! I don't want my death certificate to read, "suicide--ate herself to death."
As I begin today with no thought of the frozen carrot cake in the freezer (if it was on the counter I would already be up!), I am formulating a plan. My incentive is--my best clothes don't fit. Also, spring is here, and I can't wear the big sweater at work. I am going to focus my mind on eating small amounts and carry emergency snacks and water. I will remember if I don't take care of the problem myself it may require intervention by Weight Watchers, which will mean meetings. Worse still is having a months worth of food delivered in a shoe box! Next would come a liquid fast.
I need your help. First, don't say, "You're not fat." I will then eat the carrot cake still frozen. If you see me wearing the sweater or navy jacket, I'm trying to "cover up". Second, please don't ask me to go out to eat at Stephen Pyles or anywhere that serves bread. Third, if you have a proven method (send pictures) you would like to share, please do.
Okay, I'm talking the talk. Next is walking the walk. I've got to look for my tennis shoes.