WW Commando

Feeling slightly less unhinged. So, I guess, you call me a little more hinged than yesterday. But not fully hinged, not by far.

I tried to sign up for Weight Watcher’s again yesterday. I hoofed it over about four blocks in the stinkin’ cold, using up precious gym time, but I thought it might be worth it to have some support. The WW person never showed up. How’s that for enthusiastic support? But, I’m thinking that was a good thing. The crowd was less than inspiring.

There was one person there who was there when I went to the meetings last year. And I remember being kind of annoyed by her last time, because no matter what you were talking about, she ALWAYS found a way to bring it back around to the fact that she’d been there for two years! And wasn’t that great! She knows all about it! Isn’t she everybody’s Miss WW! But here’s the thing. I overheard her telling someone that she’s lost, are you ready for it? 60 pounds. Yes, that is quite an accomplishment. It took her TWO YEARS people. TWO YEARS. My God, what, is she eating one less doughnut a day? Yeah, yeah, I know, good for her, blah blah. But I was so sick of hearing her tell everyone how great she was, and to find out that BFD, she lost 60 lbs and has AT LEAST that much more to go. So she’ll be nice and thin for her trip to Boca when she’s 70!

And then, the others. I heard one lady telling the other, “I know I gained two pounds last week, but I just can’t live without my half and half in my coffee and little piece of cake before I go to bed” – I don’t think I’d want to have to constantly clamp my mouth shut for fear of saying something very to-the-point.

I think most of this bitterness and urge to stab someone with a ten-pound-loss pin is that the last meeting helper type of thing I attended was a Narcotic’s Anonymous meeting, quite some time ago. (Yes, I’ve been clean for wait-let me count – 21 years now, and yes, I’m still clean, just don’t go to meetings anymore. I was sixteen when I got clean, so when I grew up, I didn’t really need any help living a clean life, as it is the only way I know. I wasn’t really feeling a need to be there, and haven’t for about 15 years now.) The NA meetings are a little more rooted in tough love, because addicts can certainly load on the self pity and are all too ready to heap the blame on everyone and everything else. I personally respond to this much better. I would much rather someone call me on my s—t than to coddle me. And I would much rather call someone else on it, too. All of that freaking rationalization about why they couldn’t give up a biscuit with their dinner? I wanted to shout “F—k, people, why are you HERE? GET OUT! You don’t want help!” So maybe I shouldn’t attend those meetings, I’m guessing.