I joined Weight Watchers.
Almost three months ago.
I'm self-conscious about it because I am not fat. Never have been. I fear the ridicule. In fact, I got it, indirectly, when a neighbour heard from one of my kids (thanks, kiddo) that I'd joined. Then the neighbour told a friend. The friend, apparently, said,
"WHAT? She's a STICK!"
Which, given that I was, at 154 pounds on my 5'5" frame, juuust barely into the 'overweight' category, is simply not true. That I carry my weight well is not in question: I know how to dress and I have decent posture. But "stick"? When I'm a 34D (lately, 36D), and hips to match? Um, no...
(Said friend is gay. Perhaps he doesn't look at women overmuch?)
But I've never been heavily overweight. Most of my life I've been slim.
And that's just it. Most of my life I've been slim. Most of my life, without any effort at all, I have maintained an easy 120 - 123 pounds. Most of my life, I have had a body mass index of 20-ish. Without any effort, without any thought.
When, about 10 years ago, I noticed a few pounds sliding on, I didn't worry overmuch. I was in my late thirties, a little weight gain is to be expected, and I was far from overweight. Except that the weight just kept slipping on. And on. And on some more.
Until I kinda wanted it to stop, you know?
I may have mentioned my family before, but every last one of'em is fat. Not just fat, obese. Most of them are not just obese, they're morbidly obese.
Morbidly. As in, so overweight it's a serious threat to their health. My sister cannot walk across a room without wheezing, and, at only 45, has arthritis in her poor overburdened knees. My brother has to sleep with a CPAP machine lest he stop breathing entirely in the night, entirely due to excessive weight pressing on airways. My mother has had two heart attacks, my uncle has had one. My grandmother suffered high blood pressure for years before her death.
It's not pretty, this kind of obesity.
And the pounds kept sliding on to me, despite my efforts to prevent it. Until, at 154 pounds, a mere 3 or so pounds into the official 'overweight', I had to do something.
And just as I'd reached that decision, a neighbour told me she'd begun attending Weight Watchers - and that the meetings were held only three or four blocks from my house.
I recognize Destiny when it hits me on the head with a brick.
Off I went. In three months, I have lost close to 15 pounds. I want to lose another 10 or so. I'll be heavier than I was at 24, but that's okay. Because I'm not 24 any more. But neither will I be following the rest of my gene pool, submerged at the bottom of the deep end and wondering why they're having trouble breathing...
What this program has done is give me a liveable framework by which to evaluate and structure my eating. I want that glass of wine? Sure - but not those cookies, too. I don't wonder, I know how much is too much. It takes a little more thought than in my thoughtless youth, but not a whole lot. It takes a little self-discipline, and I'm discovering I had more than I thought.
I am, once again, just about the size and shape I like to be. And I know that in another couple of months, I'll be there. And I'll stay there.