I know

 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.