Have you ever heard of Esther Rolle? Esther is a beast. She’s also known as Wanda Syke’s belly.
Esther loves her some bread. Esther loves her some alcohol. And cheesecake. Give her all the cheescake. She demands it. Esther sounds like my kind of girl. Well, she sounds like my girl. The fat girl inside me.
The one that makes me reach for that
second third glass of wine. She asks me for chicken Parmesan when she knows I don’t want should have grilled chicken instead. The one who manhandled Back East Blonde into getting some CHEESECAKE on our blate. (It was fabulous. The blate was too. For a short recap read about it here). The one who says eating seconds won’t break my diet. What diet? she asks. She likes to cause all sorts of trouble, that one. (Just in case you’re wondering, she doesn’t have a name).
But, this past weekend, I realized I haven’t heard from her in several weeks. Weeks! I knew that I was feeling less padding around my middle and out of curiosity, I weighed myself. I was floored. Operation Skinny was finally happening.
15lbs. FIFTEEN POUNDS. Why haven’t I weighed myself since the end of January and thus celebrated each pound?
There are several reasons:
1. My digital scale is crazy. Certifiably crazy. I can step on it to turn it on, and the damned thing will sometimes tell me that the air weighs 4.9lbs.
2. Our bathroom floor isn’t level, so I weigh one amount near the sink and a different amount near the bath tub.
3. Most importantly, I cheat. I lose my momentum. The second I see any results, even if it is 1lb or 5lbs, I “reward” myself with bad food or wine. Always lots of wine. Never fails. And that little bit of progress reverts back and I’m back at square one.
That’s why this time around I didn’t update anyone else about my weight loss. Not even myself. I even bought 3 months of Weight Watchers online and tracked my food on my phone. For about 2 weeks. Yeah, that’s not worth mentioning or celebrating, but that’s me.
I’ve been mostly juicing, replacing a meal with juice for 2 weeks, and after that my body just didn’t want much solid foods (and definitely not bad foods). And because I’m writing this at 9am and I look a mess, you won’t get a picture of my progress. I’ll post one soon. Maybe. Because if you’ve ever struggled with weight, you’ll know that no matter how much weight you lose, you’ll still see your former fat self in the mirror.
How about you? Do you celebrate each pound lost, or do you delay celebration until you meet your goals?