Weight One Minute!

Once again, my "feelings" and my weigh in were not lined up.

I never understand that. (Despite my post yesterday, I wasn't really feeling too negative about my weight loss for the week... I just wanted to talk about the money thing and my poor opened box of chocolate bars...) It doesn't seem to matter how I feel, it always does not go. If I feel fat, I lose weight. If I'm depressed and angry when I walk in the door, I did good. If I'm upbeat and cheerful, fate smacks me in the face and I've gained. And it does seem in direct proportion...

For example: I bought new clothes this weekend. I knew that my 18s were way too big. I've been holding them up with a belt and a prayer recently. My size 16 pants fit, and there was a smallish gap in them, but it's summer, and only a masochist wears pants in the summer in Virginia. (Yes, I'm talking about you, Miss Sweatpants Queen...) Still, playing around with Darcy in the front yard - jumping ROPE of all things. Me! Jumping ROPE! - my shorts fell down.

Time to get new shorts, right? Right. So we hit up the Target, and I started scoping out the selections. I almost bought a horrible pair of lime green shorts just because they were god-awful (yes, I do that. I have one of the ugliest stuffed animals on the planet because it was just so ugly I had to have it...) but decided to get the maroon ones instead. I went to the changing room with a pair of 16s, a 14 and a 12 (just in case.) and some large and medium shirts.

I decided to try the 14 on, and they fit perfectly. I was quite pleased. When I lost all the weight from being on the gestational diabetes diet while I was pregnant, I never got back into 14s. I held up the medium shirt. I looked at it. "This is so never gonna fit me," I muttered. But I pulled it on anyway, and was moderately astonished that it did.

Yesterday, I took a picture of myself and was actually happy with the picture. That's a first!

So, when I went into the meeting, I was expecting to get my 45 pound bling.

Yeah... yeah yeah yeah. I'm up a pound this week.

SIGH.

So, no bling. I spent the rest of the meeting fuming.

(Ok, I'm a bad person, I admit it. Thomas was up 1.4 this week as well, so I feel slightly better about it. At least I didn't have to put up with his weight loss...)

I'd love to have a reason for this. I'd love to point at this, or that, or the other and say "oh, well, here's the problem."

Except I can't. Not for sure. I haven't been journaling for... oh, probably 8 weeks at this point. I think it might be that I've been missing bread recently, so every day for the last week or so, I've been eating a weight watcher's english muffin and some weight watcher's cream cheese. This is only 2 flex points, but I generally also have a Skinny Cow Popsicle in the evening, too. That's flex points. Per day. That's 21 points right there of my flexies. And we ate out at Applebee's this weekend. Now I was "good" in that I only had half my roll-up (7 points) and about half my fries (10 points)... still 21 + 17 does not equal 35. I probably used more points than that this week. I seem to recall my mexi-chicken dish as having a few points because I was out of fat free cheese and used low-fat instead... so, I probably went over my flex points by a considerable chunk.

Starting last week, Thomas and I are on the pay-by-the-month plan for Weight Watchers. This includes free access to the eTools, so I am going to start tracking what I eat again this week and get myself back into the habit of logging my food somewhere. You know, when I started Weight Watchers, I was logging in my journal, and logging here on my blog, and logging on the Daily Plate... I think I logged myself out... and even trying to cut back to logging in one place, I just wasn't keeping up with it.

Of course, it could also be the scale. There's three scales in the Center, and we usually weigh in on Beth's scale, but we were running late yesterday and she'd already started the meeting, so we had to weigh in on Fran's. Thomas thinks that Fran's scale is "off." I haven't really been paying attention myself...

Doesn't matter. This pesky pound is NOT allowed to stay, he is being evicted immediately, and while I'm at it, a few of his friends can go away as well.