I have been seriously thinking about re-joining Weight Watchers (WW) lately. While I am not at my biggest, I am probably just a couple pounds shy of my biggest. I told K the other day - I have to do something. I am uncomfortable in my own skin and I just want to be able to cross my legs without having to tuck or hold my foot!
She had a point - we spend quite a bit of money every month to maintain her health, why shouldn't I be able to do the same for my health? Great point, K. So I have been thinking about joining WW and figuring out if it's even feasible with my weird hours and I will be out of town for two weeks... and can we really budget for it... you know, finding all the reasons to procrastinate or not do it at all.
And then today happened.
I was at the grocery store, picking some things up for the week. (I would like it noted that they were even healthier choices! More fruits and veggies, less chips and cookies.)
Anyway, I am in the yogurt section.
Nearby is a perfectly skinny teenage girl and her perfectly skinny mother.
As I grab the yogurt I need, I knock a couple packages of gold fish off the little kiosk that I would like to tell myself was set up to close to the yogurts anyway. (Although, I just realized that this is just another confirmation that I need to join WW.)
Me, being the courteous person I am, I squat down and pick them up.
And I freeze.
Did that really just happen?
I reach back behind my leg and...
Yep, it happened.
There is no Instagram filter to make this situation pretty.
It's as ugly as it gets.
It's as ugly as it gets.
It's as real as it gets.
Humiliating at first, hysterical later.
Apparently, at some point, the perfectly skinny teenage girl saw what happened because I saw her quickly walk over to her mom and talk to her in hushed tones.
I calmly removed my sweater and tied it around my waist and finished my shopping.
A couple aisles later, in the rather drafty frozen food aisle, I run into this perfectly skinny mother daughter combo again and the daughter once again, quickly walks over to her mom to point me out and whisper about my mishap while the mother pretends to be (rather loudly) contemplating what ice cream treat they should get.
Go ahead, get your ice cream.... get 10 ice creams... and then when your pants split, you'll remember me and have compassion instead of judgement - skinny bitches. LOL
In my defense, these pants are probably a good 7-10 years old and worn rather thin.
Needless to say though, thin pants or not, I will be joining WW next month.
Got any good WW recipes you want to share?