Other than my kitchen scale, I don’t own one. If I did, I’d be on it everyday, and if I weighed everyday, I’d think about it all the time. I know people who do (and clearly this approach works) but it’s not for me. Instead, I hop on the scales every week or two at the YMCA women’s dressing room en route to yoga class.
Hi, my name is Pam Anderson and my last weigh-in was over six weeks ago.
Between the week visiting my parents, a week’s relatively decadent vacation, and four weeks at our Pennsylvania house, I haven’t had access to a scale. My eating patterns may have been a little sloppy but not outrageous. My running schedule has been steady, but my overall exercise regime a little lighter. That’s it. That’s all it takes—six weeks of eating just a little more and exercising just a little less—for a few pounds to creep on.
A couple of weeks ago I noticed my belly was a little flabbier. My imagination?
Nope. Back in Connecticut for a funeral last week I slipped into a borderline dress and stared in the mirror at the undeniable crease where hip meets belly. My usual denial kicked in. I was pre-period. No lie—the brown pills were supposed to kick in the next day. And the dress was pretty tight to begin with. Hadn’t it just been dry-cleaned?
But yesterday I was in Connecticut again, and there sitting in Sharon’s bathroom was a set of scales she had just bought. I knew I needed to weigh, but I was afraid to face the number. Before stepping on the scales, I decided to try the dress on again. Although still a little snug, thank God it fit better than the week before. Now I was ready for the scales.
The numbers don’t lie. I had, in fact, packed on a few.
This next month or so, my mission is to shed those few pounds, a plan that went into immediate effect. Old friends stopped for lunch on their way through town. For dessert I served pound cake with ice cream and mixed berries. In my bowl, I omitted the first two components. En route to Cape Cod that same day David and I stopped at Tim Horton’s for afternoon tea. On road trips I might splurge on a donut. Today I opted for a modest tea biscuit. Dinner with our friends was steamed lobster and corn—no potatoes, no slaw, no dessert. Not bad on day one.
Day two was less successful. Since our Cape time was limited, we had lots of food ground to cover. Our first stop was Hole in One in North Eastham to taste their famous cinnamon donuts, then on to Blue Willow Bakery in Wellfleet for a sampling of their pastries—a pecan sticky bun, a cinnamon bun, and a buttery croissant split three ways.
It’s mid-afternoon, and I’ve still got lead belly. At this rate, it’s going to take longer than “a month or so” to get back to my comfort zone. To be continued…