Murder vs. Unprovoked Kissing

"Wow...you lost big!" said the Little Ole Weight Watchers Lady at the scale. Now, before I was able to rejoice and sing praises, I had to wait to hear the number. (I can't read upside down Little Ole Weight Watchers Lady handwriting while balancing on a scale with all my breath exhaled.) Note to Skinny Friends: in the Weight Watchers world "losing big" can sometimes mean 1 pound. Following up the first "Wow" joyful exclamation with "Wow - you're down a whole pound" is grounds for involuntary manslaughter.

They advocate losing the weight slowly but I advocate the numbers going down more than one to make those 5:30 AM workouts worthwhile. They think rejoicing over one lousy pound is fun - I think that's just cruel and, considering the meeting is held in the Presbyterian Church, a bit unChristian, if you ask me.

But I digress....here I am, holding my breath, trying not to sway back or forth or side to side on the scale lest the numbers change - all the while exhaling so as to not add extra weight for oxygen molecules...and she said it. Down 5.4 lbs for a total of 15.6.

Just as the "you did great - let's celebrate that one pound" duo of comments is grounds for bloodshed, the "you did great - let's celebrate your 5.4 lbs" is grounds for the impromptu kissing of the Little Ole Weight Watchers Lady, and blatant physical release of pre-scale stress. Ignoring the fact that the meeting was taking place just feet from where I stood, I let out a loud "yes!" and did a little dance. Heads turned. Fatter-than-mees (FTMs) smirked with jealousy and the Skinnier-than-mees(STMs) held up their 2-point bars in a sisterly salute. The Chariot of Fire theme song began from unseen surround-sound as I ran in slow motion to my seat in the front row next to Rebecca. Ah...now, I thought, I'm a Bag Donator and a Significant Loser. I have made it.

Ok, ok....I weighed in, clapped my hands a little, BLEW a kiss to Little Ole Weight Watchers Lady and tiptoed to my seat and tried to fake out Rebecca with a sad face. All in all, a great moment.

Thank you Melissa and J. I couldn't have done this week without you - it would have been all over at babysitting Saturday night! LOL :)

A New Use for ShopRite Bags

I found a great use for those bright yellow ShopRite bags: fill them up with clothes that are too big for you and give them away!

Yes. It's finally happened. I'm back. I am a Bag Donator. I've been a Bag Recipient for so many years that I didn't remember how good being a Bag Donator could feel. It's the best.

To fully appreciate this moment you have to understand the difference between a Donator and a Recipient.

A Bag Recipient is a woman who refuses to shop for larger sized clothes. One or two of her good friends are losing weight and so generously donate their "they're just too big for me now and maybe they'll fit you" clothes. Often this donation takes place in the Shrinking Friend's bedroom. You rifle through bags of sweaters, shirts, pants, and even socks deemed simply too large to keep in the Shrinking Friend's closet. You know that if you don't take them, they are on their way to the Salvation Army collection bin. A golden opportunity.

This may seem like a great 'circle of life' moment but it has its problems. The main pitfall is the inevitable comparison of Shrinking Friend's size with your current size. It's a special kind of depressed when Shrinking Friend's fat clothes are still way too small for you. You smile gamely and select an oversized, stretched-out black sweater and leave most of the things in the bags with comments such as "That isn't my color" or "It's too cold to wear that one" or my personal favorite, "I feel bad taking this one when a homeless person so desperately needs it." On the other hand, if you do strike gold with a Shrinking Friend's fat clothes Fall Collection, you rush home like you've won the lottery, thanking God that you didn't have to spend money to clothe your ever expanding frame. It's a strange sensation to be simultaneously loving and loathing your Shrinking Friend.

Ahhh!! To be a Bag Donator. A real Donator. To be an official Donator you have to be able to fill up a official Donator-sized bag. Some women have valiantly tried to become Donators by frantically combing their closets and squeezing a pair of old underwear into a ziplock baggie. Note to would-be Donators: This type of ploy will never have a happy ending. You will be forced to admit that the huge panties do indeed fit - you're just trying to unload them because you have mangaged to stretch and rip them to oblivion due the constant upward and downward pulling motion. And if the baggie ever did make it into your car and into the Salvation Army parking lot, you will undoubtedly be cited by the local police for garbage dumping in the clothing bin. Save yourself the needless embarrassment and wait until you can fill a proper sized Donator bag: grocery store size or larger. But I digress...

This weekend I gloriously admitted that two pairs of pants and about 4 shirts were too big. Well, what to do? GET A SHOPRITE BAG, STAT! You know you've made it when you can pull open the heavy trap door of the Salvation Army clothing bin and toss in your precious contribution without any criminal prosecution. I could almost hear the "Rocky" theme song in the background. (Yes, I did raise my arms and do a little jig...)

At least I'm not this lazy.

Want to die laughing? Check out this video - it's short and worth the download.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=4687643663537018301&q=stuck+on+an+escalator&hl=en

A mumu is always an option!

Last week until now....STRESS!!! Huge project at work...Back to School Night...two lessons to be written for church...and a RELAXING weekend away with Laura. Poor Laura...I was anything but relaxed. You know the feeling when you're a breath away from dissolving into tears? That was me from Thursday morning through last night (Tuesday.) In a word - overwhelmed. And how did I combat that stress?

FOOD! Dunkin' Donuts, pizza, fries, M&Ms, you name it. And how did I feel? MORE STRESSED! No energy, blah blah blah.

Yesterday morning I actually rolled over and considered moving to a remote Brazilian locale where fat is revered and mumus are the uniform of choice. I could picture myself plopped daily on top of some huge pile of dirt underneath a scraggly tree, fanning myself lazily with some big type of leaf. The natives would swarm around me, chanting, throwing donut holes at me, and thanking the gods that this fine specimen of leadership had arrived at their village.

Ok, that isn't exactly the image that experts tell us will pump us up and motivate us toward our goal. But I did consider it.

As a desperate cry for help, I emailed Melissa and J. and basically told them I'm going to the gym today and I'm back on the wagon. And then I typed it again (using bold and a bigger font helps, did you know that?) because I didn't really believe it the first time. And then because I was thinking that wasn't enough, I called my workout partner and told her too that I was going to the gym. When I finished telling the produce manager at ShopRite, the guy who parks next to me in the parking lot, and the woman at the bank drive through window, I was pretty sure I was on the right track.

And now I'm home after the gym...sweaty but feeling optimistic that I might be able to repeat this tomorrow. Now, who can I tell?....

It's All about a Choice

Ok. Bad day yesterday. Only lost 1.6 lbs at WW on Tuesday. Very disappointed but not altogether surprised. Then I got bummed. I had totally lost my momentum. I didn't go to the gym yesterday and spent the rest of the day pouting...and EATING. Hershey kisses, pizza, oreos, pasta salad. AUUGGHH! I loved that eating....I really and truly did.

Last night I decided. I'm a quitter. I quit. It's what I do when the going gets tough. Ok, now that I have that self realization, what to do with it? I guess the answer is...make a choice. Is it worthy continuing or worth quitting to do something else? For me, there is nothing else. There is no other solution other than hard work day after day.

This morning (Thursday) I woke up ticked off that I "had" to go the gym instead of sleeping. I actually considered telling my friend Rebecca that the sprint triathlon was off and I was going to stay the rest of my life fat, single, and mildly bummed out. Then I thought - (grudgingly and still ticked) that I had a choice to pick one workout or be fat. So I put on my workout clothes (fricka fracka) and my sneakers (I hate these fricka fracka sneakers!) and walked out the door. I was still pretty not into it when I got on the treadmill. My bad attitude continued after the first 2 minute run cycle and then IT happened....endorphins!!!! Got to love those little chemicals that can totally change our attidudes. Can they bottle those???

Lesson - obey. Put on your clothes. Go to the gym. Start working out. God and His design for our bodies will do the rest. Pray for me for perseverence.

Lesson part 2 - It's all about choices. Even if I had made it to The Biggest Loser, I would still have LOTS of moments where I completely wanted to quit. Even if I had a personal trainer I would still have days where I would want to call him (yes, it would definitely be a him) and tell him he's fired.

Today Rebecca reminded me that there is a picture of the two of us from VBS last year. We're going to copy it and then take a new one next summer. That gave me a renewed goal and vision.

Thanks Rebecca - thank you Lord. Please hang in with me because I am sooooooo weak.