22!
Well, good news. I've lost 22 pounds. Unfortunately no one but me and the people I've told know, as you can't really tell due to the amount I need to shed, which shall remain Unsaid. Merely uttering the number could create a hole in the space/time continuum, and I don't want to be responsible for such chaos. But The Scale Knows. (And says so every time I weigh myself, in a somewhat-judgemental female voice).
Anyway, I'm happy about it - somewhat - although I spent an entire therapy session bitching about how I wasn't losing weight fast enough. Which earned me a kind of theraputic eyeroll from the therapist, who patiently reminded me that it took years to put on, and would take awhile to take off. But I Want It Now. Comments like that earned me a "I think you're just used to getting things when you want them, and you can't do that with this" from the therapist, which made me feel like a Spoiled Brat. Maybe that's why I haven't finished my novel.
So in order to counter some of the exasperation I've made a little graph that I am plotting my weight loss against. I'm setting twenty pound goals and I even have a sheet of corny yellow "I Did It!@" star stickers that I will apply to the graph as if they were gold leaf. I will proudly display this in my bathroom at home where no one but the cleaning lady can see it, and will probably hide it before she comes anyway. I'd hate for her to think I was fat.
Sometimes lately I feel like I'm just sitting there in a motionless stupor trying to get through the day to my next allowable food portion.
I haven't told anyone at work I'm trying to lose weight. I want to just quietly drop the pounds and if they mention anything, I'll say, 'Oh really? I hadn't noticed'.
Anyway, I'm happy about it - somewhat - although I spent an entire therapy session bitching about how I wasn't losing weight fast enough. Which earned me a kind of theraputic eyeroll from the therapist, who patiently reminded me that it took years to put on, and would take awhile to take off. But I Want It Now. Comments like that earned me a "I think you're just used to getting things when you want them, and you can't do that with this" from the therapist, which made me feel like a Spoiled Brat. Maybe that's why I haven't finished my novel.
So in order to counter some of the exasperation I've made a little graph that I am plotting my weight loss against. I'm setting twenty pound goals and I even have a sheet of corny yellow "I Did It!@" star stickers that I will apply to the graph as if they were gold leaf. I will proudly display this in my bathroom at home where no one but the cleaning lady can see it, and will probably hide it before she comes anyway. I'd hate for her to think I was fat.
Sometimes lately I feel like I'm just sitting there in a motionless stupor trying to get through the day to my next allowable food portion.
I haven't told anyone at work I'm trying to lose weight. I want to just quietly drop the pounds and if they mention anything, I'll say, 'Oh really? I hadn't noticed'.