The D-Word

So, I've officially been on a diet for 30 days now. Coca-cola (aka, nectar of the gods), in all of its pure, sugary deliciousness, has not crossed my lips since April, except in its highly inferior diet form. (And no, Coca-cola Zero does not taste like real coke, no matter what any of you say.)

I've learned to live within my Weight Watchers points and, to some extent, I've learned to live with being constantly hungry. I've never really been about the food anyway--don't get me wrong, I love good food. I love potatoes. And red meat. And good seafood. A medium-rare filet mignon? Nom, nom, nom. But I've never really cared about desserts or snacking. Give me lunch, dinner, and a few drinks and I'm good. I'm having to relearn how to live, as Oprah-ish as that sounds. When I have a stressful day at work now, I don't immediately go for beer or wine (although I really, really want to). I've learned to let alcohol go during the week, for the most part. I won't lie--I know exactly how many points there are in one can of Miller Lite or one glass of red wine. And there have been a couple of nights (including tonight) where I've foregone dinner so I can have some beer instead.

Anyway, I ramble. I suppose the good news is that it hasn't been nearly as difficult as I thought it would be, and I've somehow managed to lose 10-12 pounds, depending on which way the scale is pointing when I get on it. (I prefer to move it around a lot and go with the way that shows the biggest loss.) My clothes are a little looser now, although not nearly as loose as you would think they should be from losing 10 pounds.

My biggest problem is that I keep waiting (I almost typed weighting--my unconscious at work, perhaps?) for someone who I haven't seen in awhile to say something like, "Hey, you look great! You've lost some weight, haven't you?!?" But no one is. Which leads me to believe that either: a) my friends and co-workers are incredibly unobservant; or b) my friends and co-workers are incredibly tactful and don't want to ask (which is highly unlikely); or c) the most depressing and likely option, no one can even tell that I've lost 10 pounds. Sigh.

Yes, yes, I know. I'm doing it for me. Not for them. And it has been rewarding. But would it kill someone, anyone, to say, "Hmm, there's something different about you. Have you lost weight?"

Also, I'm plateauing this week. That scale is not moving a pound, no matter what I do, or which direction I move it in. Thus the beer, it's not just for dinner anymore attitude tonight, I suppose.
Anyway, I guess I'll keep at it and see where this leads me.

And yes, this is why I haven't been blogging recently--I've become downright dull.

1 comment:

Kelly said...

Hooray for you. 10 pounds is great. Can we still have cheese fries?