Saturday was weigh-in day at Le Weight Watchers. It was a momentous day for me as it signified the end of my 6-week Maintenance Period (it’s akin to leaving prison). I didn’t want to go – come on…it was two days after Thanksgiving and while I hadn’t exactly devoured an entire turkey, I did have a little more than I had planned. I was concerned just how much those scales would groan.
Deciding to own up to my T-Day folly, I hopped on the scale and was told “Congratulations, you are now a Lifetime member of Weight Watchers (read: you only have to be mortified on the scale once a month vs. every week).” I was surprised.
So, another achievement in my long life…and now, of course is the hard part where I vow I’ll never weigh as much as a Mack Truck again, blah, blah, blah. And Weight Watchers, bless their little point-counting hearts, gives me a whopping whole two pounds to play with — yeah….I can never weigh two pounds more than I do right now (or I have to start giving them money again). I think five pounds would have been more realistic, but I don’t collect the money.
So now it’s time to celebrate w/Devoted Spouse. The one thing Weight Watchers teaches is you don’t celebrate your achievements with food – duh – you find other ways to congratulate yourself. Okay – I understand that concept. Otherwise, we’d all never lose weight, but then again, Weight Watchers would be much richer.
So I find a suitable reward. Oh yeah…it’s food.
Devoted Spouse and I go to Bob Evans where I have already decided I’m going to splurge on 2/3 of one blueberry pancake w/sugar free syrup and one sausage patty. I gave my order in a very quiet voice and glanced around in case the WW police were lurking. A pancake – gasp.
When it arrived and was suitably prepped and ready for devouring, I happened to look over at Devoted Spouse. He was wearing one of his favorite shirts that day….the one with Charleton Heston raising the flintlock above his Moses-like head and screaming something on the order of From My Cold Dead Hands. Now I’m a pistol-packin’ member of NRA so that didn’t bother me.
What I couldn’t stop staring at was the way the tee-shirt had “settled” on Devoted Spouse. Ya know how ya sit down and shirts wrinkle and rearrange themselves in whatever way they feel? Well, his had settled such that poor Chuck had no neck. Now ordinarily I probably wouldn’t have noticed….but it looked so odd and every time Devoted Spouse would say something, Chuck’s head would bob up and down.
I’m trying to enjoy what little piece of this pancake has the blueberries in it while gagging down sugar free syrup and I have a Bobble Head Chuck Heston in front of my eyes. It took away from the savory moment of that first blueberry filled bite of pancake coz I couldn’t stop staring at Devoted Spouse’s chest.
Bobble Chuck…may he rest in peace. Now I have this overwhelming desire to watch the movie The Ten Commandments…maybe I’ll whip up a batch of manna or something to go with it…sigh…