I downloaded the Weight Watchers app today. Again.
Yesterday I said to the boys and Deaven, “I really need you guys to encourage me this time. If I say I don’t want to eat healthy anymore, or suggest we get something really bad for us, please remind me.”
“Oh, Mom you look fine” or “I need to do it, too.”
These kids are the sweetest in the world, which means they suck at keeping me in line. Love ya’ll.
One thing I’ve realized while I do all this writing is that I do need accountability. In general, if I don’t have an audience or someone who says, “Knock it off” or “Way to go” I don’t do well. If I was the last man on Earth, I wouldn’t do yoga or shave my legs, and I would eat all the pepper and onion pizza with a side of seven mozzarella sticks. Extra marinara.
What’s more important than needing accountability, is admitting that I do. I felt shame in it, like I was weak. What the hell is “a sign of weakness” anyway and why do we place such a stigma on it? Isn’t admitting you’re “weak” a strong action, especially if you own it?
Either way, I downloaded the app again. Last summer I used it to keep me in check, and it worked. It’s a great program to balance your food intake and really show you when you should just chill. I was going to blame my puffiness on college, the holidays, and the recent move, but those are life items that I need to learn to deal with without sitting in bed eating half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food. Smartfood on the side.
Also with WW, you are able to have treats once in a while, and there are no food group restrictions like other programs. It works on a point system, so each member has a certain number of daily points. You just put in what you’ve had, and they calculate it for you. They also have a scanner so you can beep your way to less chub. I can have almost all the veggies and fruits I want, fish, and eggs are low in points. Black coffee is zero points, and cheese, depending on the kind, is less than bread. I’m not one to be into those shakes and pills. We eat whole food here and I love to cook. I just like too much of it at once.
So, here’s to me once again using something to kick me in the hiney and ensure I do what I’m supposed to do. It’s just over 20 bucks a month, which is way less than a pie from Pizza Corner in Wallace.
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