big surprise (lyn)

Yesterday I had a meeting at Alexander’s school and couldn’t go to my Wednesday WW meeting.  So today I decide to go to another class.  Well, actually I didn’t just decide today.   I’ve been planning to go to another meeting for two weeks now.  I’m too compulsive to miss a week of not knowing my official weight.

I dress in my usual weigh-in outfit:  black lululemon groove pants and a small white T.  I even think I look thin----not just normal, but actually thin.  It’s a nice feeling.

I arrive at the class, which is filled with strangers.  The only familiar face is Marianne's who is at check in.  Unlike my usual class, I am handed a sticky label that is pre-printed with the WeightWatchers logo, and am asked to handwrite my name on it.  I oblige. I put on my Lyn name tag, hoping it doesn't add to my weight, but fairly confident that it won't, then I strip off my watch, socks, and sweatshirt and approach the scale.

Marianne smiles broadly and says, “Wow.  You are really going to like this number.  You are down two point eight pounds.”  I can’t believe it.  That’s the most I have lost in a single week since October 7^th.  I’m ecstatic.  Oddly, I don’t think I’ve done much different this week compared to last week or the weeks before.   I’m now down 27 pounds in 17 weeks.  I feel like dancing, or leaping or jumping for joy.  All those corny expressions feel very real to me right now. 

At the end of the class, the instructor asks if anyone has any celebrations.  So I raise my hand and talk a bit about my triumph so far.  I feel both silly and boastful, but I am proud of this accomplishment.

After class three different people come up to me:  one to tell me that she liked listening to what I had to say; one to tell me that I had actually “inspired” her; and one to ask if I really thought I needed to lose any more weight.

I leave the meeting feeling great. 

I’m home for about ten minutes when the doorman buzzes me to tell me that Kelly, the exterminator, is here to spray around as Alexander noticed some ants in the bathroom last week.  So Kelly comes into my apartment and asks where I’m having a problem and I tell him.  Then he looks at me and says, “You don’t need Weight Watchers.”  I am momentarily speechless.  How does he know?  Do I have a once-heavy look about me?  (Doubtful).  Do I have some WW products lying around my bathroom?  (Of course not).  And then I look down and see my “Lyn” tag with the WeightWatchers logo still stuck to my chest.  It’s my most entertaining experience to date with an exterminator.