Sundays

This being the third time I'm attempting to lose weight via Weight Watchers, I've figured a few things out.

On the advice of a friend of mine who works for WW, I made Wednesday my weigh-in day. The reason? Everyone is all gung-ho to start a diet on a Monday, but then weigh-in day follows the weekend and its excesses. Not good. My excesses usually involve salt, so it's especially not good.

So I started on a Wednesday. Yee-hah! That means that I can pretty much pick my way through Sunday, if I so desire, and today I so desired. I did last Sunday, too, but I learned some things last Sunday.

Last Sunday night, after I had eaten my way through the day (punctilioiusly noting everything, I might add) I went to bed feeling not as well as I could have. A little over-stuffed, in fact. I managed to learn from that this time, which in itself is an amazement. It didn't affect my weight loss; I lost five pounds the first week, and I am well aware that a good bit of that was water. Whatever. I'll take it.

Today, I picked my way through, though I didn't start with bacon and eggs. I had a few things that I thought looked appealing. I find that if I find a way to eat a thing, then I don't have the problem of craving it any more. I'm trying to adopt the philosophy that enough is as good as a feast. For now, not quite two weeks in, it seems to be working.

More stamina. Fewer aches.

You know, when you're older, as I am now (0lder than I was yesterday, and older than I was the last time I did this) I think that the whole health and comfort issue becomes more pressing. I'm a good solid girl, no matter what, and I can carry a lot of weight and not look horrible. But my joints, industriously aging, no matter how much I color my hair and grease my skin, tell me the truth. This time, I think this might make it stick: I'm going to look better with less weight, that's a given. But I'm going to feel better, and honestly, having an easier time climbing the stairs (and believing that I'm going to be able to climb those stairs for another thirty years) is going to make me stick to this far longer than the notion that someone is going to look at my legs.