It’s weigh-in day.
Fit for Life. What idiot came up with that name? Oh, wait. That was me.
I was the idiot who got me wrangled into this mess. And although, I DO want to get healthy and lose some excess baggage, I LOVE to eat. So, long story, somewhat shorter…..I started a group in my town (I live in the STIX, so none such group existed before)…..
Healthy living…which will hopefully lead to weight loss….with a weigh in each week. In front of the pastor’s wife. Who is a size 6. YIKES.
So, here I am, week one coming to a screeching halt….. and I am hit with the reality of weighing in tonight.
Suddenly, I panic. What can I do?
I started out the week fairly strong. I have given up sugar…..and had almost NO candy this week. That’s progress.
But will the scale show it? Will I cringe in humiliation and shame when I climb on that monster that seems to only exist to make my life a living hell?
I believe I have lost a couple of pounds, but we weigh in the evenings, which means I will weigh more….
My clothes…. they will add even more weight to the already heavy picture. After all, I can’t go naked. Can I? Hmmm….no, wait.
I make a bee line to my room and begin to pilfer through my clothes. I’m on a mission.
I begin to weigh things…one item in one hand and one in the other, desperately looking for the right ‘lightweight’ combination. I find my flimsiest bra. All that under wire is heavy and this one has none. The sweat begins to pour. My heart races. Ideas begin to flow…. FLOSS…really well…plaque has to weigh something….no makeup….shave your legs….no hair product….
That’s when my baby boy walks in and chuckles, “Mom you’re gonna lose weight just trying to find clothes to wear! If you don’t do good, just start fresh next week.”
That one comment turned it all around for me. I was shaken to reality. A ten year old has more common sense about him than I do.
How much can all this scrambling save me….a few ounces?
I calmed myself down, showered, and prepared to go face the music. Pay the piper. I can avoid it no longer.
Gained, lost, or hold my own….
I’m gonna hold my head up high, stand up straight, shoulders back, eyes on the scale…..with extra clean teeth, freshly shaved legs, and my flimsiest of bras. After all, I may be over my moment of insanity, but this fat chick is not completely stupid.
Wish me luck…..