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I Tried To Make Me Go To Weight Watchers . . . .

"They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said 'no, no, no' . . . "

Amy Winehouse, "Rehab"

I am the Amy Winehouse of Weight Watchers. Like rehab for her, it just doesn’t stick for me as of late.

Let me first say that it’s not Weight Watchers’ fault. When I first did Weight Watchers, right before my wedding, and followed the program diligently, I lost seventeen pounds within three months. But for Weight Watchers, I wouldn’t have looked as good as I did on my wedding day. Well, but for Weight Watchers, a slammin’ makeup and hair artist, and good lighting.

Whenever I have stuck diligently with Weight Watchers for more than a month, I’ve always, always seen results. But since then, I just haven’t been able to make it stick. Or rather, stick with it. And just as Amy Winehouse probably blames the people in her life, her success, etc., I blame the things going on in my life – the moves, the job changes, family demands, finances, etc.

I also get resentful when I run out of points. It just seems perverse to me that really obese people get more points than I do. I need them more. They have more fat reserves than I do. Why do they get more points? Heck, if you put me, an overweight-heading-into-obesity person out in Death Valley with an obese person, the obese person would probably survive longer. More fat reserves. It just isn’t fair.

During my third go-round with Weight Watchers, I made the mistake of joining with two of my sisters and my nephew’s girlfriend. The mistake was that I was no longer anonymously accountable for my Weight Watchers’ sins. Because I coerced them into joining, I now had a group to which I was accountable which I couldn’t brush off when they asked me, “How’d you do this week?”

Big mistake.

Now, I’m back at my worst weight ever, short of breath climbing the stairs, with a cholesterol count that is out of this world. And I can’t bring myself to slink back in to yet another meeting, although I’ve absolutely adored all my Weight Watchers meeting leaders (all three of them – two in the Sacramento area, one in Aurora, Colorado) and know they would welcome me back with open arms and no judgment.

I’ve even convinced myself that Amy has a far greater need to be in rehab than I do to be in Weight Watchers – losing her voice and her career. Truth be told, however, we both have equally strong reasons for going to our respective programs – our health.

So as soon as I muster the courage, to borrow from an Amy Winehouse song, “I’ll try to make me go to Weight Watchers without saying, ‘no, no, no’ . . . . .”


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