Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

I hated The Twins the first time I saw them.

This is the story of how I cut them some slack.

I was a little late to my Weight Watchers meeting and was waiting in line, grumpily, wearing pajamas and flipflops and a 50-inch waist. The meeting had already started and so, as I daydreamed and drifted in and out of paying attention, my thoughts were peppered with applause and cheers. People behind me were sharing their victories and goals but I was just waiting to be weighed and hoping I hadn’t lost 12 pounds again, like I had during the first week of The Program.

I looked up from my thoughts, sorting through the people in the room as I always do, sizing them up: fatter than I, thinner, taller, shorter, whatever. I caught a few other people doing it, too — playing that old women’s game, “Who’s bigger?” No one wants to be the fattest person in the room, but those feelings are somehow intensified in a meeting full of women who gather together to clap about weight.

Then the door opened and two girls pranced through. I didn’t know at the time if they were sisters, or twins, or just best friends with matching inferiority complexes who felt compelled to use each other as mirrors. They were young, around 17 I’d say, and both blonde (but bleached blonder) with long, straightened hair. Both wore tiny little nylon shorts with a word splashed across the ass — “Hott” or “Princess” or something equally revolting. They were different brands of shorts on each girl, different colors, different cutesy words, but tiny little racing shorts all the same.

They wore trendy little tank tops under their trendy little hoodies and the wholly unforgiveable Uggs — different cuts, different colors, but Uggs. Four Uggs in one room. Four too many Uggs. God, I hate Uggs.¹

Neither of them could have weighed more than 120 pounds.

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1. But I hate them most of all in Los Angeles, where they make no sense and girls always seem to pair these cold-winter clunks with micro-mini skirts or, as is the case, tiny little running shorts. [↩]

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Starting weight: 335.8
Last week: 321.4
This week: 318.2
Change this week: -3.2
Overall change: -17.6
Milestone passed: 15 pounds gone
Next milestone: 20 pounds gone

I met last week’s goal of passing the “15 pounds gone” mark. Yay me. I liked last week’s goal because it was little and I was pretty sure I could attain it. This week, I want to shoot for losing 2.4 and hitting “20 pounds gone” but if it takes me 2 weeks or more, I’m okay with that.

I broke my tailbone over Christmas break while visiting family in Utah. (Hello, icy, concrete steps. Meet my ample ass.) However, the pain has been greatly reduced in the month between then and now. I probably shouldn’t be adding in any crazy yoga moves which balance on my hips, but if I start adding in some extra activity (i.e. walking the dog), it may help me achieve this slightly-larger goal (and result in me being slightly smaller) by next week. We’ll see.

Actually, I’ll go walk the dog now, before I take a shower.

My question is, why should this surprise anyone? Apparently both the Food Network and McDonald’s are claiming that this one-frame advertisement placed in the Iron Chef America episode was an accident, but with McDonald’s already poised as a prominent sponsor for the show, who believes that?

I haven’t had television in my house for almost 3 years and I don’t miss it. After this, I miss it less than ever — as if those Pizza Hut commercials with the gooey, melted strings of cheese weren’t enough?