I’m a stress eater.  I believe that has already been established, at least once, in earlier posts.  It must have been a super-stressful school year, because I have gained at least 10 pounds since last summer.

Wowza.

Dieting is tough for me.  I give in too easily.  I feel like I “deserve” to eat a large pizza, by myself, after looooong summer days when I spend more time acting more like a referee/waitress than a mother (although there is very little difference in those roles).  Add to that a dessert and a wine cooler or two (I’m such a lightweight, ha!), multiply it by a few nights a week, and BAM!  Pants no longer fit.  Uninvited extra chins start appearing.  Self-esteem plummets.

It’s not a good situation.  Not at all.

So, I decided to stop beating myself up over it.  No more making excuses for my poor food choices, and procrastinating over just one more issue. (I’m so good at procrastination, though, especially when it gets me out of addressing a difficult issue.  Like that one time, when I…just kidding.  Little humor there.) In a very courageous moment (those don’t typically pop up on Monday mornings, so I had to pounce!), I signed up for Weight Watchers…again.  I’ve done it before, a few years ago, and lost a good amount of weight.  I like this program because I can eat what my family is eating, and if I screw up and cheat a little bit every now and then, I feel like the program is more accepting of those faults.  I’m not sure why I ever quit, except that I probably felt like I could do it on my own.

My beer gut will tell you otherwise.

I need to have that visual counter of my “points” to keep me on track.  In just the first two days, I’ve realized that my poor diet is like that of a twelve year old boy: mostly junk, and mass quantities of it.  Goodness, what a rude awakening.  If nothing else, I need to change that and set a more positive example for my kids.  What sense does it make, for me to tell them no candy before dinner as I’m slurping down a grande iced coffee drink (with whip & chocolate drizzle, of course!)??  If the byproduct of being a strong role model is weight loss, then bring it on.

I do have to be careful about the way in which I present my “diet”.  I don’t like to use that word; I don’t want my kids to think that it only has a negative connotation.  Diets are typically only referred to by those who are overweight, and I don’t want them to believe that my motives are vain.  I absolutely want to look better, but it’s more important to feel better and be healthy.  I tell the kids that I need to make healthier choices, and they are good with that.  They hear it enough, along with “Have you eaten a rainbow today?” or “How much water have you had today?”  I realize now that I need to be asking these questions of myself, too.  That’s my goal.

We’ll see what happens.  I’m not going to deprive myself of “treats”; that is disastrous.  I know this from experience, as I’ve tried the different cleanses and super strict diet plans.  I end up sobbing about how hungry I am, my husband sends me to Chipotle, and it all ends right there at the bottom of a burrito wrapper. I’m confident that this time will be different; partly because I’m writing this, I’m going to post it all over the internet, and I will inevitably run in to someone who will ask me how WW is going.  Hopefully, I’ll be shopping for smaller-sized pants and not desperately digging my way through a banana split.

Banana splits have, like, twenty-some points in them.  I will not have a banana split.