Normal people spend cut loose on Friday night. Maybe the have a drink at happy hour or share a meal with family and friend. They go out. They socialize. They relax and unwind after a long week of work/school/family.
I am not one of these people. Friday night (and most of Fri-DAY) is spent worrying about my Saturday morning weigh-in at WW.
When I rejoined WW in July I was determined not to fall in this trap. I tried to convince myself that if I did what I was supposed to do during the week (tracked my food, healthy choices, exercise) that Friday wouldn't matter. Because if I go out to dinner, eat normally, and track my food responsibly I won't see it on the scale Saturday morning. And if it DOES show up on the scale, than perhaps the rest of the week wasn't so great after all. This sentiment lasted exactly two weeks.
Anyone who has ever been on WW will tell you that they have their own special ritual when they go to weigh-in. It might include wearing the same clothes each week, using a particular scale, exercising beforehand, eating a certain meal the night before, or in some cases, restricting what they eat altogether. And if you're neurotic like me, you try and do a combination of all of these things. Hell, I've been known to bring my kids with me to meetings. Why? Because I realized that I lost weight when they came. And that's when my children became more than my children. . .they became WW good luck charms.
I spend my Friday nights worrying about what the scale will say. Will it be up? Will it be down? I agonize over a weeks worth of food and exercise choices. It's ridiculous. And I know it. Because it shouldn't matter what the scale says if I feel good. But like most people, I measure success quantitatively. My clothes might fit better and I might feel good, but show me the numbers. I need to make the scale my bitch.
For my own sanity, I don't own a scale. And the only time I weigh myself is at my regular WW meeting. Contributing to my anxiety this week (among other things) is that I am coming off my holiday feeding frenzy. Last weekend was New Year's Eve (skipped the meeting, ate what I wanted) and the weekend before that was Christmas Eve. After all the latkes, soda, amd Better than Sex Balls (3.5 points each) that I consumed hell would have to freeze over before I would even CONSIDER coming within 10 feet of a scale. I'm all for accountability but I'm not a glutton for punishment.
With the exception of New Year's Eve, I've been back on track for about 10 days. So I am going to finish this blog entry, pop half a Xanax (it's this or a glass of wine...like I need the points and bloat), crawl into bed with my iPad and the remote, and pray to the weight loss G-ds above for a good weigh-in.
Not to mention the fact that good weigh-in helps alleviate the guilt associated with going straight from the meeting to my favorite place for a bagel and cream cheese. With a Mountain Dew chaser. 'Cause a girl as gotta splurge a little bit.
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