I shall call this post Fat Friday, because I went back to Weight Watchers last night, weighed in, and gasped in horror as the lady behind the desk stuck the sticker with my weight on my new tracker journal and quietly showed me my starting point. Bless her heart, her hand was shaking as she handed it to me, which gave me pause. Was she scared to show me my weight for fear of my reaction? Hhmmm. Then I looked at the numbers on my tracker.
Oh. My. Goodness. Seriously?
I weigh more than my husband did at our wedding! Grrrr. I had lost a lot of weight 2 years ago on WW and kept it off for 1/2 a year, but this last year, with all the drama and changes in my life, I put it all back on, plus 10 pounds!! Double grrrr.
So why do I eat in my emotional distress? Why do I turn to food for comfort or reward? Why can't God be my reward? He should be my comfort and my helper in my battle with my weight. I feel it is more of a submission thing, I suppose. Am I really submitting everything to God, including my weight? What else am I clinging to in stubbornness?
So, my friends, I am going to lose this roll of flab that has been hanging over my belt and bugging the fire out of me. It's so sad when all your pants are getting to tight! Even my cranky pants are snug as a bug!
So wish me luck. Or better yet pray for me this week. I'm gonna be HUNGRY as my stomach begins to shrivel up a bit.