I didn't get the memo (m)

After a two-month bender, I resolve to go back to Weight Watchers in earnest.  My husband goes on New Year's Eve morning.  I wasn't in the mood on Saturday. I'll go first thing Monday morning, January 2nd.  Really, I will.

T comes home all excited and informs me that there was a big sign at Weight Watchers: "They are open on New Year's Day!  You can go tomorrow!"

Sh-t.

Harrison overhears this and approaches me.  "You need to do this."

Okay, okay.

While up at 2 a.m. on New Year's Eve/day, I contemplated the upcoming year.  Sam graduates from college in May; Harrison graduates from high school in June; a friend's daughter gets married in May; my 35th college reunion is in June; and my niece's wedding is on the beach in Newport in July.  Any one of these events would be cause to get in shape.  This is 5 major events.  All in late spring/early summer.  I have visions of me sweating in a dress with a long sweater or jacket to cover up.  I'm already overheated just thinking about it.

I feel like I just woke up from one of those dreams where you walk into a final exam--late--and unprepared.  How did I let this much time slide?  I'll never be thin by June.

But I can make a big dent.

I get dressed for Weight Watchers.  I'm guessing I'm up around 10 pounds.

I dress in a lightweight outfit.  Technically, it's "loungewear" I bought at Nordstrom's.  Thin black pants of lightweight wool/spandex/lycra, a light cotton spaghetti-strap shirt and a lightweight wool cardigan.  I don't wear jewelry as I can't afford the extra weight.  I void my bladder and go easy on the make-up, not that it weighs anything.

I pull up to Weight Watchers and feel like I'm going to the electric chair.  Okay, let's just get this over with, I think.

I open the door and there, sitting in the chair in front of me is a tired-looking elderly woman in her bathrobe.  I know I haven't been here in a while, but I think someone would have told me if WW had moved to a new location and this location became a homeless shelter.  I approach the desk and see Elaine, my friend who has been weighing me since I began this journey.  She's in pajamas.

Apparently, the leader sent out an email to the group who regularly come on Sunday mornings declaring today to be Pajama Day at Weight Watchers to encourage people to come no matter how they looked or felt after New Year's Eve.  Brilliant.  This is why I love Weight Watchers.  They are always there for you, like your most loyal friend.

I got on the scale, tell Elaine not to tell me the number or the amount gained.  She looks at me and says "No, you really should know this." Okay, I'll take my licks.  Tell me, I say.

"You're up 4 pounds.  Congratulations, that's awesome!"

Even I think it is awesome. 

The beauty of Weight Watchers is that it really does change your behavior.  What is a bender to me now is nothing compared to what I used to do.  I'm much more mindful of my eating and, if I overeat one day, I balance it out the next. 

Four pounds.  Piece of cake.