Weight Loss : A Fickle Bitch
Here’s the thing about weight loss: the closer you get to achieving your final goal, the harder that shit gets.
Last week, when I weighed in, I was .2 lbs from my goal weight. ONE FIFTH of a pound. While I always try to keep in mind that weight fluctuates and I can’t get too excited about maybe having a milestone the next week… I mean, I was .2 lbs away!
I looked at the .2 lbs I needed to lose, and even though I had a wedding to attend this past weekend, I buckled the hell down and I worked the plan HARD. I spent ZERO weekly splurge points from the day of my weigh-in to the wedding on Saturday. I PRE-tracked and accounted for every point I would consume at the wedding and then vigorously tracked every single thing I put in my mouth that night… every drink, every mouthful, EVERYTHING.
On Sunday, after the wedding, I still had more than 10 splurge points left for the week, ate a few as a treat on Sunday and eagerly looked forward hopefully being rewarded for excellent behavior in a really tempting environment. I felt good today when I went to my weigh-in, no PMSing or cycle-related weight gain possibilities on the horizon, nothing I had consciously done that would impede my losing that measly little fifth of a pound this week, so I could FINALLY hit my goal weight and start my maintenance journey.
Well… I gained .2 lbs.
WeightWatchers, I understand this happens sometimes and I understand that I need to stick with it (and I have been, for a year and a half, through many weeks like this) and I understand that bodies are mysterious things and shit happens, but seriously…
Fuck you.
What a slap in the face during an already stressful week. Work has been maddeningly relentless and stressful for about a week now and I MISSED my lunch hour today to drive through two sections of road constructions to get my weigh-in done even though I was given a short break in the midst of an all-day work training.
I have fantasies of buying a cake, but I won’t. I’d like to just tell WeightWatchers to shove its scale up its ass, but of course I won’t. In the long run, the program has been a life saver. In the long run, this is a blip. In the long run, not hitting goal this week is no biggie, especially since I’m still a mere .4 lbs away from my goal, but still.
Fucking hell.
It’s weeks like this, where I’ve done the right things and even gone above and beyond to be successful only to GAIN weight (no matter how small a gain), that I really just want to bang my head against a wall.
It took me 7 months to lose the first 50 pounds. It’s taking me a year to lose the other 30. The closer you get to the pot of gold, the longer the rainbow gets, people. AND IT SUCKS.
Venting complete. Sticking with it. Upward and onward, but with a bit of grumbling.
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