I started Weight Watchers first thing Monday morning. I’ve tried it before and lasted about a day and a half, but I’m pretty determined this time. I can only assume, based on what I’ve seen from previous RWA National conferences that, if I go this July, somebody will end up with me in the background of a photo or something. Blech.
Monday I was a little rushed at lunch time, so I popped one of those microwave meals in. They’re handy because they tell you right on the box how many points it’ll cost you, but that’s a lot of points for not a lot of food. The convenience factor sucked me in.
But yesterday, I made a salad for lunch. Not just a regular salad, but an awesome salad overflowing with yummy, zero-point foods. Mushrooms, tomatoes, cucumbers, raw green beans. Baby carrots. The salad was magnificent and all it cost me was a point for the dressing I used. I took my time eating it and was not only satisfied when it was gone, but I was pretty damn proud of myself.
Then I settled in to work. I was curled up on the couch with my Macbook and the dogs, so I probably wasn’t burning much in the way of calories. I’d guess none. But about an hour after I had the last bite of that awesome salad, I was starving.
Scratch that. I was freaking ravenous.
I was make-macaroni-&-cheese-and-eat-the-whole-box-out-of-the-pan hungry. An entire bag of Doritos hungry. I wanted a prime rib as big as a dinner plate. A double cheeseburger. I couldn’t even concentrate because I needed FOOD, dammit. I must have been casting speculative glances in Mini’s direction because she did a double-take when she saw my face and moved down to the other end of the couch.
Anyway. I was really, really good. Despite the bags of chips in the cabinet and the provolone cheese in the fridge and the chocolate chip cookies in the jar, I very carefully measured out a serving of Smartfood popcorn and ate that. One single piece at a time.
Now I just need to convince my body I won’t DIE of starvation with no meat, cheese, buttery-garlic croutons or sesame seeds smothering my salads.