No, Weight Watchers, I'm not struggling with weight gain.Real talk: I'm struggling with just plain hating myself right about now.
I spent six days of the last week trying not to kill myself, much less eat my weight in pizza (5 points) and fried chicken (11 points). The only exercise I got was running back and forth from the staff office to those hotel meeting rooms. And lifting my walkie-talkie from my waist to my face, begging A/V to come back and help yet again with my laptop connection. File under: not enough.
My scale is giving me a complex these days. There's a reason I put it away for such a long time: Even if I had liked the way I was looking, the number would have been far higher than I was comfortable with. But Weight Watchers demands I use it. When I weighed in on Monday, the scale read 196.3. Christ on a [whole-wheat] cracker. (2 points.)
This is not me fishing for compliments. I get that it's not as bad as it sounds. Yes, I'm tall. Yes, I have a lot of muscle built up from running. Yes, I carry my weight well. I always have. But less than five pounds from 200? Nothing about that is okay. And it's a gain of 7 pounds from last week. How is that even possible? HOW. You'd think my body would burn something just making the effort to expand like that.
If you live in a cave, you may not have heard that the storm of the century did, in fact, arrive. With waist-high drifts all over Chicago and temperatures dropping into the single digits over the next 24 hours, that means no running any time soon for broke girl with no gym membership. So, the snow sucks. Well, it's gorgeous. But for killing the fat kid, it sucks. And watching the Food Network 24/7 now that I'm home — Paula Deen is suddenly my best friend, and her best friend is a stick of butter (24 points) — likely isn't helping either. Lunchtime on TV is the homemade version of Chinese takeout. And those egg rolls (6 points) look delicious, Paula, but who the hell has a deep fryer built into their counter? Really. REALLY. And don't even get me started on those Jillian Michaels K-Swiss shoe ads and Atkins Diet spots that run during the commercial breaks when Paula runs out to grab another pint of heavy cream (45 points).
My butt is flattening into a shelf as I type this. I can only hope that if I quit with the self-flagellation, step away from the biscuits (3 points) in my refrigerator and find some way to derive a little joy from all the vegetables (0 points…ZERO!) I bought in preparation for the blizzard, the scale will be kinder to me next week. And maybe at some point, I'll be nicer to myself, too.