Yeah, this title has probably been used before, but the subject of this post is different. Last week I joined a “Biggest Loser” contest at work. It started with a woman who’ll be married in September and she wants to put a svelte self into her party dress. She already looks great, but you know about soon to be brides… Another co-worker is inspired by the fact she’ll meet her husband’s former “love of his life” at a future event. As for me anteing up $100… well, if I ever meet Mel Gibson on a traffic stop and he’s shitfaced, I don’t want him calling me “Sugar-tits.”
Besides the huge vanity thing, it’s really a health issue. I loathe being overweight and at 50, I’d like to avoid potential health problems relative youth has helped me dodge so far, and I want to be around to take care of my son as long as possible. Now the cure is straightforward, but not simple. I don’t eat junk, I hardly drink, and since menopause, the chocolate cravings have subsided… My problem is seconds, thirds, and in the case of pizza, keep counting until all the pie’s gone. Two words: Portion control.
So far I’ve passed two major hurdles. On Saturday, Kyle, Maddy and Papi had lunch at Sorrento’s, the best pizza place in Central Mass. We ordered a large cheese and I limited myself to 2 slices and a large water. Sure, the 2 remaining slices were whispering and blowing sweet nothings into my nose, but I resisted. Tonight it was Chinese takeout. I made myself a single plate and ate it (not the plate). No seconds. No thirds. No noshing chicken fingers unconsciously before I put one in my plate.
One week and a few pounds down. A lifetime to go.
Weigh-in Update – 5 pounds down in 6 days. Not bad.