Wow, that's a lot of w's.
This weekend it snowed. Quite a bit actually. I didn't even know that it was going to, but then I got up on Saturday morning, and the ground was covered. Matt, who had to go to work, was not pleased with this. To be honest, after the debacle that was last winter, I wasn't real tickled with it either, but decided to grin and bear it for the sake of the children.
But here's the thing. I was exhausted on Saturday. So it is almost like the snow was sent to keep me from doing anything meaningful and to just sit around and focus on what is important--my kids, my laundry, my kitchen. So, I made the best of it. The kids and I put on our fleeciest pajamas, and I made pluckin' bread (which is a cinnamon-y pull apart bread that I always make when the kids and I are stuck in the house together for any amount of time) and a batch of cookies for the freezer. I cleaned a bit and we played. And rested. And watched the strange TV shows (When Vacations Attack, anyone?) that they like to watch. It was very fun. Matt came home, and I prepared a batch of latkes, and we turned in early.
On Sunday, it was more of the same. I was a bit more adventurous in the kitchen, preparing my own recipe for salted caramel cookies (and I will try to post the recipe sometime, if I can read it. It is laying on my countertop, encased in a thin layer of sugar and caramel drippings and may be completely illegible), and a batch of Martha Stewart's chocolate almond crinkles. The kids and I played with the Wii Fit and I did an inhuman amount of laundry. Matt arrived home and brought Mexican food, so we sat around and ate enchiladas and then went to bed. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
However, in the course of all this, I realized just how much I have let myself really go, healthwise, in the name of work and stress and eating things to "reward" myself. I am feeling much bigger, and un-toned. My skinniest pants (the Gap Forever Skinnies) are now uncomfortable in a size 6. And I am feeling...worn. Just worn. Last night, I laid down to go to bed at around 10:00 and awoke feeling awful. My stomach was rolling and I just felt really sick. I went into the living room, and laid on the couch and watched some 48 Hours Mystery on TLC and just generally felt wretched. And I just knew that it was all my fault. I started feeling it all coming back--the shame I felt when I was a size 14, that look in the dressing room mirror when the size 16 pants didn't fit, that feeling when I caught a glimpse of myself in the a full length mirror and wanted to throw up. And this too, the stomach pain from overdoing it AGAIN, the sluggishness, the constantly being sick or needing to stay home from work because I wasn't treating my body correctly.
I can not do that again. Will not do that again. Ever.
I am a person who is going to struggle with her weight her entire life. My father's family is big, and my body type is such that I am a lot like them and tend to pack on the pounds like them. I have to accept that. And I have to remember that although that is something that I have to remember, it is not something that defines me. I am an active person who knows how to eat. I know what to do. I am strong, and I like to run (albeit very slowly). I want to show my kids my strength and have them be proud of me for not only what I can do with my mind, but also what I can do with my body.
So I have decided to rededicate myself to Weight Watchers with the new program. The whole thing just hit me at *just* the right time. Just as I was rebelling against the faux-food and ickiness that I associate with WW at my weakest moments (and paying the consequences for this rebellion, I might add), they were rolling something out that is much more in line with what I consider my own personal eating credo--fresh, in season, and homemade. No more fake cheese or fake bagels or counting points on an apple. And I can do that! I feel really, really good about it. This morning, I made myself some whole grain toast and added a bit of natural peanut butter and some all-fruit jam (just a taste). I had it with my 1% milk, and I felt good. I just ate some almonds as I typed this, and I feel even better. I also brought myself a can of soup (Progresso Hearty Tomato--not one of their WW soups, but still just 220 calories for the whole can and SOOOO good) and a couple of pieces of flatbread that I made yesterday. Just getting the stuff out made me feel better about myself.
And I started thinking last night. I love to bake, and I often feel that WW is pinging me in because of that. But then I realized. I love to bake, but what I love the most is sharing my treats. So this morning, I packaged the cookies from yesterday up (leaving a few behind for my kids and husband who love the holiday cookie jar) in cello bags from the dollar store and brought them to work. For the few folks who ventured out in our winter wonderland to come to work, they were a nice treat. And I loved seeing everyone's faces. I am never going to stop baking--I know that. And I want to enjoy my treats every now and then. But sharing them is undoubtably the most awesome thing about it all. And I'm going to do better about that.
I know this is long, but I hope it reaches someone who may be falling off the WW bandwagon too. Really, we all deserve better than what we think we are "rewarding" ourselves with. It is time to realize that.