Nothing Tastes as Good...

You've all heard that line, I expect.

Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.

It's supposed to be motivating.

Yeah.

Right.

Let's start off with a few simple comments... Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels. I don't know what being thin feels like. Back when I was thin (or, thinner, at any rate) was in high school, or the first few years of college, I didn't pay attention to it. I still thought I was fat. I have some photos of me, when I was thirteen or so, standing in a bathing suit, in the back yard, with my friend, Anne. Anne's got her arms crossed over her chest (or lack of chest). Even at that age, she was self-conscious about being a girl. We grew apart as she got into track and field sports and spent all her time running. Last time I talked to her, she was 19 years old, as thin as a rail, and still hadn't started a regular period yet because she was too thin.

In the picture, I'm standing next to her, my arms are out in a little "ooooh" sort of gesture. And you can see my belly. I have this nice, perfectly round belly, like half a basketball glued over my navel. I hated that picture. I have flared hips (perfect for giving birth, not so perfect for being attractive) and I'm short waisted, so that belly roll seems to start right underneath my already swelling bosom. I'm probably not the only woman who was wearing a C cup by the time she was sixteen (and at least in my high school, I was never a member of the IBTC - that's itty bitty titty committee, for those of you not in the know... girls are mean, had you ever noticed that? I mean, really, really mean.) but wow, I felt... awkward. And of course, guys are not entirely nice either. I can't tell you how often I had a freaking black and blue mark right in the center of my back from having my bra snapped.

Is that what being thin feels like?

I was probably officially thin, then. I weighed... 119 when I graduated from high school. I wore a size 10.

I had acne, I was overly chesty for a girl my age, I was too smart, I was too cynical, even then. Sarcasm was my first line of defense. My mother spent all her time telling me that my interests were stupid, that I needed to be prettier, funnier (but not too funny), more polite, a better cook. Rich Japanese men existed to buy me pizza. That was the motto I went off to college with. Find some nice rich boy and wrap him around your finger. That was all that was important. Not what I wanted to learn, or what I wanted to be. My destiny was to be a rich man's wife, and as ugly as I was, it wasn't looking too good.

Is that what being thin feels like?

My first few years at college, I was a slut. I admit it. I'm not proud of it, but it is the truth. I used men and sex as a way to feel good about myself, without really realizing what I was doing. I'd snare a guy, lead him around for a while, and eventually (not long) I'd notice I have very little in common with him, or all he wanted was sex, and I'd lose interest. Or he'd lose interest. And then I'd be depressed and feel guilty and horrible, and the cure was... You guessed it! Find another guy. This went on for longer than I really want to confess to.

Is that what being thin feels like?

Despite my over-sized carry-on baggage, I'm mostly happy with my life. I love my husband. I love my child. I mostly love my life. (Although sometimes it would be nice to have adult conversations more than once a month... and more money. Who doesn't need more money?)

I don't know what being thin feels like. I never thought I was, when I was, so I didn't take note of it...

I do, however, know what a double chocolate fudge cheesecake tastes like.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Question:

I don't really like the way Weight Watchers calculates Activity Points. Especially as I'm a heavy sweater. So I've been using Daily Plate as a way to track and calculate my exercise.

I enter the activity I did and how long I did it for, and it tells me about how many calories I burned, based on my weight (apparently you burn more calories when you're heavy because you have to move that many pounds around... I did not know that...) and then I took that number and rounded down, and divided by 50 (a point is ~50 - 70 calories, depending on fat and fiber content) and then subtracted one, just to be safe.

For instance: 20 minutes of high intensity aerobic exercise burns 287 calories in 20 minutes.

So 287 rounded down is 250. 250/5o is 5. So I would write this down as 4 Activity Points. And then I would only eat half of my Activity Points. So on a day when I did 20 minutes of cardio, I'd eat 2 APs.

Just recently, I discovered that Weight Watchers calculates its activity points on not the 50 calorie point for food, but on a 100 calories burned scale.

Ooops.

My problem is this: What I've been doing is working for me. I write it down as 4, I eat 2. When technically, burning 287 calories should have been 2.5 points. Should I change my journaling to reflect reality and admit that I'm eating all or most of my activity points? Or should I go on the theory that if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Opinions? Anyone?