I started Weight Watchers in November of 2015. It doesn’t seem that long ago but when I break it down, amazingly enough, in March, it will be 5 months.
Yes, I’ve lost weight. As of this writing, I’ve dropped about 18 pounds. That’s not too shabby. It’s a little more than a pound a week and that’s pretty, damned good. Also, I’ve not gained weight since I’ve started the program (or lifestyle change or diet or whatever the hell you want to call it) and that’s pretty damned good, too.
I like the program. It works for me when I commit to it. I’ve tried other programs (I’ve been a bit over the “chubby” phase for quite some time, now) and Weight Watchers always works the best, especially if I actually go to the meetings and weigh-in. I’m making it sound like I’m a yo-yo dieter. I’m not. I’m a lazy person and I tend to eat whatever’s convenient and often, that is fast food.
I blame my love of fast food on feminism (that damned Gloria Steinem). Let me explain. My mom worked and she didn’t like to cook. Mom told me that when daddy asked her to marry him, the first thing she said, after she said yes, was “I am not going to be making tortillas every day like your mother”. You should know this is akin to blasphemy for a hispanic woman marrying in the 1950’s. So, in essence, my mom was a very early feminist. She worked outside the home, didn’t cook very often, and damned sure didn’t make my dad home-made tortillas. As a result, we ate out all the time. We ate out for breakfast (tacos before school) unless daddy fixed us cereal or something, and ate dinner out, or picked fast food up, just about every evening. My mom cooked dinner on Saturday nights sometimes but it was not the norm.
Every weeknight, if we didn’t go out to eat, mom would load my brother and I up in the car and drive us across town to visit my grandmother. We did this every Monday through Friday. On our way over, we’d stop and pick up food to go and we’d always get my grandma some Church’s Fried Chicken. My grandmother could eat fried chicken every night of the week and it wouldn’t bother her one, damned bit. I’m very afraid that tendency runs in the family because my mom, who is now 80 years old, has Church’s fried chicken every night for dinner. When we pull up at the drive-through, she is greeted like an old friend and her order is processed and ready before we even get to the window. I probably should see if Church’s Fried Chicken is a public company and whether or not they sell stock because I have a feeling I’m going to be eating a shitload of fried chicken unless I move to Italy. I don’t think they have fried chicken places in Italy. (Note to self: investigate franchise opportunities for Church’s Fried Chicken in Italy).
Apologies for my digression. Where was I? Oh yes. Despite my recent success with Weight Watchers, I feel the need to recommit and I’ll tell you why this hit me all of a sudden with such vehemence. Some friends went to New Orleans last weekend and I had heard great things about the food from Willie May’s Scotch House. When my friends were planning their weekend trip, they asked me if I wanted to go with them. Unfortunately, I had already made plans to help my aunt pack (she’s moving to a house around the corner from me) so I couldn’t go but I did not let them leave without some money to bring me back…wait for it…some fried chicken. I texted them several times to make sure the chicken is making its way back safe and sound. It should be good.
I enjoy reading and have blogged in the past about travel and books. My latest blog is a vanity blog. I write about whatever comes to mind, specifically, things I think I need in life. Hope you enjoy!