I can't describe how great it feels to put on clothes that haven't fit for a while. Today is Friday, not my usual weigh-in day, but I have a Romance Writers of America meeting tomorrow. I have plans to eat breakfast with my pals beforehand, so I weighed in today with my daughter Zoe and her friend, Sarah.
I was down 3.8 pounds, a lot for me, and both girls were down too. Afterwards we celebrated with healthy grilled fish tacos and pedicures.
I've achieved my second official goal, my first being the first 5 pounds and my second being 5% of my body weight. The next official goal, of course, will be the 10% goal, followed closely after that by the HUGE, ALL IMPORTANT move from being over 200 pounds to under. Of course, the scales at Weight Watchers are all electronic, but the scale at my doctor's office is not, and the mere fact that they will no longer have to take the time to pull that counterweight over from the 150 mark to the 200 will make my heart sing.
My heart hasn't done a lot of singing over the past year; turning fifty was hard for me. I finally had to choose: was I going to give up or not? I certainly could have rested on my exquisitely large laurels and said it doesn't matter anymore if I look good, dress well, have my hair done, keep my house nice. I certainly couldn't care a whole lot less about all those things.
But in the end, vanity is a many-splendored thing.
In the end, I can't be seen giving up by my family and my children. It's my job to be either a role model or an object lesson. Today I choose role model.
I don't want to show up to life in stretchy pants anymore.
I was down 3.8 pounds, a lot for me, and both girls were down too. Afterwards we celebrated with healthy grilled fish tacos and pedicures.
I've achieved my second official goal, my first being the first 5 pounds and my second being 5% of my body weight. The next official goal, of course, will be the 10% goal, followed closely after that by the HUGE, ALL IMPORTANT move from being over 200 pounds to under. Of course, the scales at Weight Watchers are all electronic, but the scale at my doctor's office is not, and the mere fact that they will no longer have to take the time to pull that counterweight over from the 150 mark to the 200 will make my heart sing.
My heart hasn't done a lot of singing over the past year; turning fifty was hard for me. I finally had to choose: was I going to give up or not? I certainly could have rested on my exquisitely large laurels and said it doesn't matter anymore if I look good, dress well, have my hair done, keep my house nice. I certainly couldn't care a whole lot less about all those things.
But in the end, vanity is a many-splendored thing.
In the end, I can't be seen giving up by my family and my children. It's my job to be either a role model or an object lesson. Today I choose role model.
I don't want to show up to life in stretchy pants anymore.
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