I started Weight Watchers on Monday. I. Hate. It. I knew I would and I suppose that is why I have put it off for three years, knowing I could blame it on a baby, who is about to turn three and should no longer be my scapegoat.
I know that WW works for me. I know that keeping track of the points is the only way that I lead a healthy lifestyle. I know that the first week is the hardest because I have to create new behavior. I know that the second week isn't very easy but I feel better so I am motivated to continue. And I know at the end of the first month, the weight starts dropping and the lifestyle change is becoming my normal. I know my friends and family support me, in this endeavor as in everything I do. I know that after the first six weeks, I can start to include my trigger foods...like red wine. Oh lovely, red wine. How I miss you so. And I know that after two or three months, I have the freedom to cheat here and there and my life won't spiral out of control.
Despite knowing these things, it still sucks. I realize how out of control my life was - it's embarassing to recall how many times I reached for Goldfish crackers, a Poptart or chips. Right now, I have a headache. I'm tired. I'm crabby. I'm so sick of salads, yogurt, and obsessing over the points. I miss my wine. And it's only been three days!
Yet, I do feel better. I'm staying within my points, am drinking the water, and my entire support system knows I'm on the WW wagon so I have their love and support. I like having the control. I like knowing that I have set a challenge for myself and that I have total control of my success. I like feeling better. And I like looking better so it is all worth it.
But I still miss my red wine.
Lovely, lovely red wine...I know you'll always be there for me. Right now, I'm just not ready for you.