TOPS

Yes. This is my third post today.

Yes. That is excessive.

Yes. This is my blog, so there. HAHA

I've been thinking about why I'm suddenly feeling a little discouraged yesterday and today. I thought about it as I ate pizza for dinner (Not feeling guilty about that...had enough to make me full then stopped, yo. Stopped. And stayed under my calories for today. Oh Yeah.)

I thought about it at the YMCA, as I used their indoor track and tried, TRIED, to run/walk. Now my calves hurt so badly, I'm afraid I might have really done some damage. And I was too exhausted after ten minutes (6/10 of a mile) to get in a decent workout. I also swam. One hundred ridiculous meters.

I came up with two things:

1. I have to put off running until I'm lighter. Not goal weight, or even close. Maybe 250? 225? Because rather than encouraging me, it's making me want to give up exercise. And I don't want to do that.

2. I think I need a meeting of some kind. Not because I want a program to follow. I really don't. But because I need the encouragement.

I thought long and hard today about joining Weight Watchers. All the cool kids are doing it. But I can't make myself. Counting points would make me give up this thing so fast ya'lls heads would spin. I'm even trying to get rid of the counting calories thing. Natural eating, baby. That's my goal. So I can't bring myself to pay $12 a week for a weigh-in and a sticker.

Then I rememered TOPS. TOPs is as much a part of my childhood experience as Disneyland and summer nights when all nine of us had a friend spending the night...that's 18 kids playing 'Olympics' in the living room by skating around the carpet in our socks.

My mother was a life-long TOPS member. I've joined three times. (Yes, that does coordinate with having three kids.)

What I need, I think, is the old ladies. Any time I've joined TOPS I've always been the youngest by--oh, 40 years or so. TOPS isn't as hip and cool as Weight Watchers. But it only costs $20 a year, and there is no program to follow.

I also need the recognition. You get charms, and little presents. And damn. They have ROYALTY like the freaking fat-lady prom. And I have 20 pounds more to lose than last years queen.

I could be the damn Queen.

Queen Shaunta the Ex-Lard-Ass.

Yeah. Has a nice ring to it, don't it?

There's a meeting tomorrow morning, which happens to work for me.

I can't bring myself to go back to my old meeting. I just can't. Not when I'm a solid thirty pounds heavier than I was the last time I weighed in--a year ago.

I think another reason I'm feeling anxious and discouraged is that six weeks is about as long as I've ever dieted before giving up and gaining it all back plus some. And despite the number of times I've said, "I'm not on a diet", I'm not really kidding anyone. Least of all myself. The "Not on a diet" part is coming--but it's taking some time.