I have about 4 hours until I have to go and weigh-in with my Weight Watchers’ consultant. I got on the scales yesterday and the news isn’t good. I won’t harp on again about last week’s 3ishkg gain and the fact that…. even though I have stuck to points (or lower) every day this week, because I didn’t go to weigh-in last week, I will weigh heavier than my last weigh-in. There is a good lesson there. Next time I want to skip a weigh-in because I think I have gained weight, I SHOULD still go and weigh-in because otherwise it distorts the next week’s weigh-in. (And let’s face it, it fucks with my head!)
Of course, I have been obsessing about cancelling today’s weigh-in because the news will not be good… although when those brainwaves hit me I need to re-read the last part of the previous paragraph!
I feel so frustrated with this weight-watching business at the moment. So much effort for such a little result. Of course even scarier than having been ‘good’ all week for no result, is… what if I had eaten what I wanted to all week? Would I have gained more weight (as if 3kgs last week wasn’t enough!)? Would I keep getting bigger and bigger (quickly) like a balloon…. like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? But not blue. Of course.
Anyway, there’s no escaping it today. I have to weigh-in. Then I have to sit and listen patiently to the Weight Watchers consultant share this week’s lesson with me – although admittedly the benefit of the one-on-one consultations is that this part is able to be better-targetted to the actual Weight Watcher, rather than a one-size fits all presentation. No, the bit I am really not looking forward to is the “How was your week?” question. I am tired of telling my story. Tired of whinging. Tired of complaining. And I am tired of thinking about it all. Constantly.