I was a bad Weight Watcher tonight. I walked right past the scale at meeting, without stepping foot on it.
It's funny how some Mondays just come so quickly. I barely have the chance to digest (pun intended) what the scale said last week, when this week starts.
As a nearly year-long Weight Watcher, I know nothing I do is "bad," just a poor choice I made, but I still felt bad. I felt like the student asking for an extension on a project I started long ago.
As I hurried through the double glass doors I noticed a long line, which to me means no one working there has time to chat. Most weeks I love the chatter; I usually brag about victories on and off the scale. But I swear when you need a week to keep to yourself, the leader and other employees must know it because they seek me out.
Kathy, purple swath in her hair to celebrate her 15 years of survivorship on the heels of the upcoming breast cancer awareness month, stood in the dead center of the aisle, politely body blocking me from being able to slink into my usual chair unnoticed. I was all set to tell her I had a great week, should she have seen me as she walked to the front of the room. She'd have no time for conversation and my answer would suffice.
But, no. Her glass-half-full, chipper self asked the usual: "How's things?"
Fine, I mumbled.
But she knows me. After 10 months of weekly meetings, Kathy can spot my not-so-on-track nights a mile away.
She's always cheerful—her glass is always half full. Tonight, mine was half empty. I was going to hide it. Lie. Hide. Sneak in and out of meeting. But before she even had the chance to ask me to clarify my mumbles, I spit it out.
I am NOT weighing in tonight, I told her firmly.
No problem, she said.
But, we're supposed to weigh in, be accountable, right? I asked.
Sure, but it's your choice to weigh in or not, just like it's your choice to feed yourself healthy meals, Kathy said.
Boom. She did it once again. Ever so politely she told me I am the master of my fate. I chose to eat at Niko's, Papa Gino's and Wholly Cannoli. I choose what to eat and I choose to sabotage on occasion my health.
It's OK, she said. You're human and that's why you're here. You know how to do this and how to be successful, sometimes you just need to say it out loud.
She's right. And that is why every Monday night, glass half full or empty, I trek to Shrewsbury and I put my choices on the line in front of strangers—becauase I choose to stay on this journey to health and happiness and whenever I fall off the wagon, I know it's a small step back on.
This week's challenge: No dining out.