The real trigger this week to return to the WeightWatchers program was when I was told by my wonderful boyfriend how "classic" it was that my boobs were so big again.
Big. Mistake.
Bigger boobs means weight gain becoming noticable.
I was in hospital in September and since then have been eating all around me. Purely feeling sorry for my large self and nursing my woes with Malteasers and Tayto Bistro (salt and vinegar). And everyone says... you shouldn't be worrying about your weight, you need to focus on your health. Well my eating everything in sight is affecting my currently off the walls mental health which is doing no one any favours!
So anyway, today was the day. Back to WeightWatchers I would waddle, and waddle I did!
I was first in the queue for the 8pm meeting, with fellow WeightWatcher and gorgeous friend Aisling. As we were waiting for the previous meeting to finish up the panic starts. "It's not too late to run away! She's going to murder me, she's going to call me a big, fat, wobbly hippo and murder me!" (She being the lovely F, our leader...who most definitely would not murder me, no matter the gain) So as I said, panic running through every vein in the wobbly bod. Trying to make an approximate count of how many McDonalds' I've consumed since I was last there, trying to balance it in my head with made up excercise, like counting walking up the stairs in work a few times a week. Any way all this pre - meeting panic was useless as the damage was done.
So the weighing starts and our lovely leader greets me with a smile and says "Sure wasn't I only thinking of you the other day". To which I reply a mortified "I'm so, so sorry I havn't been here, I need help, I'm a mess, I've been sick..." etc etc etc etc all the usual things one says when one knows one has been a bold, bold WeightWatcher.
Up on the scales I go, and to be honest now I had weighed myself the other night and decided that the weighing scales must have been broken as I could not possibly have gained a stone and a half since the last time I weighed myself!
Turned out the scales were indeed wrong as I had gained not ONE stone and a HALF at all, but TWO BIG FAT STONES onto my already wobbly self.
Now to say I felt crap would be an understatement, I have not felt that bad in a long time. But lovely Fiona was calm, no judgment, no panic just "We'll have most of it off by Christmas".
I'm not going to let the daunting amount of weight-to-goal stop me from this time FINALLY being able to get into a pair of skinny jeans and feel like Victoria Beckham! lol...
So here I am, starting a blog of all things. Praying to all the WeightWatchers in the world that this will be some sort of motivation and I can finally, finally reach goal!!
Here goes nothing...
xoxo
-Ro
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