We’re home from our dinner event. It was silly — lots of chitchatting and hobnobbing with people I don’t know. Bobby chalked it up as a success because the CEO of the local hospital system recognized him, shook his hand, and knew his name. I chalked it up as a success because I had fabulous food and four glasses of wine for free. FREE. Yayay for free.
I found a dress for this little event just this morning. I’m not going to tell you what size it is because I’m embarrassed. I will tell you that it’s the largest size I’ve ever donned.
I guess now would be a good time to state that Week 2 on WeightWatchers isn’t going so well. Week 1 was fabulous — I dropped 6.4 lbs. Week 2 has been vomitous. Another pregnancy announcement in the family and three brushes with breast cancer has sent me racing for the nearest sugary treat. I ate half — yes, HALF — a key lime pie. In one evening. It was quite tasty. But I hate the sick feeling of guilt that follows the next morning.
It’s the 30’s version of the college Walk of Shame… when you wake up in a random apt with a random (hot, usually foreign in my case… I completely swore off American guys for a while) guy and collect all your clothes and stumble back to your own apt. Try to sneak into your apt without waking your roomie so she won’t ask questions. What seemed like such a good idea the night before just seems like a hazy, irrational, inexcusable trainwreck in the morning light.
Yeah, a hot Brazilian soccer player and half a key lime pie. A perfect parallel.
I just feel so empty and anxious sometimes, and food is there, offering comfort. A sad heart coated with a layer of key lime pie feels infinitely better than a sad heart & empty gut.
Isn’t Week 2 a little soon to already be falling off the wagon?
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