We got a warning light, we got a warning light...

Saturday is here again, and we all know what that means: weigh-in day.

It has been a good week, lots of movement (walking to and from work almost every day) and sane food choices. Tracking is always a given. If I don't track, I get slack and that does nothing to help me in the long run. I knew there had been a couple of choices made through the week that were what I consider "orange flags". Not dangerous red flags, more of "tsk, I dunno Thusey..."

So, I stepped on the scale this morning and I was feeling alright about the week until I saw the ww lady write down that I was up one pound. It took her forever to get a reading because the scale reading kept flip-flopping back and forth, but the final verdict was +1. Fortunately that still keeps me in the 290's, I told her I would have sworn out loud if there had been a 3 at the start of my weight.

I sat there waiting for my meeting to start, glancing over my week 5 literature and I was mad. I was fucking cheesed off. All that walking, ankle discomfort be damned, and still I gained a stupid pound. What the eff?

Meeting started and the first person Moya called on was cheesed off too. The same goddamn thing happened to her this week. A whole week of exercise and tracking and good food choices and she was up 2 lbs. Inside I was so glad that someone else was as pissed off about it as I was, we all laugh it off but still, that's a pound that was supposed to go in the other direction.

I've started calling my dad every saturday after my meeting, and it feels good to have this support in place. We talked about where I might have gone wrong and he gave me a pep talk after telling me how he and his wife had done this week in terms of their own weight loss.

Dad: at least you didn't get in the car and punch the steering wheel so hard that you almost broke your hand.

Me: No, no I didn't. Mainly because I don't have a car. Why, did you do that?

Dad: Yeah, back when I was on weight watchers, I did it after I had gained half a pound. I didn't take the news too well.

Me: But the steering wheel took it like a champ.

I need to switch up my menu this week. This week was a blur of all the same. Same thing for lunch every day, same snacks, same everything. I love it all, but clearly some more variety needs to come in to play. I'm still having a lot of trouble eating all of my points (let alone the extra ones that I haven't even touched every week) so I need to change up the menu.

I'm also planning on joining the Y this week. I've made the transition to working in the downtown shop full-time, so it will be incredibly convenient for me to go there for yoga a couple of nights a week and to work out on the machines after work. I'm looking forward to it. More and more I'm getting a mental picture of what I want to achieve with myself and it feels good, it feels attainable.

And hooray. It's a long weekend in these parts. "Family Day" is what it's called. Insert eye roll here. I love the day off but christ almighty, what a laaaaaame name. Last year, on the first ever Family Day, I don't think I spoke to a single member of my family.

Dad told me a few days later that he was going to start an Anti-Family Day. I asked him what it would involve and he listed the following: liquor, whores and wills. With that, you needn't ask me why I love my dad so much.

xo
LB