Point(s) of No Return

I did it. I took the plunge. Realizing that my life was never going to improve until I got a handle on my weight, and fearing my anxiety about turning 40 would be moot if I ended up dropping dead of a heart attack before I even get there, I joined Weight Watchers.

Some of you know that I had been going through the preparatory process for Lap-Band surgery and that I was initially pretty excited about it. However after the first few steps it became evident that the money was going to be an issue. Between that and the fact that it stopped being an exciting prospect and turned instead into a terrifying one (the whole internally-placed foreign object thing was really starting to weird me out), I ultimately decided to not go through with it. This did not, of course, change the fact that I still needed to lose weight, regardless of by what method. I assuaged my doubt by reminding myself that band or no band, I was going to have to follow a strict diet and exercise regimen to achieve my goals. The only difference between what I'm doing now and what I would have done is that I won't have a piece of plastic clamped around my stomach, and I won't be going every 6 weeks to have a needle stuck in my gut. Oh, and I'll be saving myself about $5000, too.

So, yeah. I'm a Weight Watcher. Points. Meetings. Weigh-ins. Portion control. And all the fun, emotional-rollercoaster-y stuff that goes with that.

But here it is, folks. Some of you might remember my old diet blog (that I have since dissolved into the internet ether) where I talked all the dramatic crap about not wanting to die, wanting to be healthier, and wanting to fit into normal sized clothes. You might remember that I made great progress for a while, losing close to 60 pounds on the Pure Weight Loss program. Then my dog died, the holidays rolled around, Pure closed and ran off with my $700, and then I got sick. All that weight came back in no time. And then some.

In the last couple of years, it's really become apparent that, more than ever, I need to get a handle on this. This is not a matter of no longer fitting into my jeans, but rather a matter of fitting into life like a normal human being. I'm at a size now where I've become that person I always wondered about....that woman that has to squeeze through turnstiles, who waddles when she walks, who pants and wheezes going up one flight of stairs, whose ass takes up the whole seat and then some, that woman whose neck is so fat her necklaces look tight. I'm her now.

But not for long if I have anything to say about it. I'm not going to turn this into a diet blog, but I'll warn you - this whole Weight Watchers thing is kind of amusing, and I fully plan on making fun of it every chance I get. All in good humor, of course.

With that, I must go research the activity point value of blogging.