Hey, Mrs. Wilson!

So, I’ve decided to take a short blogging break. Oh relax Ann, I said SHORT and you’ll be camping anyway.

Onwards.

A week from today, my dad, Noah, and I will be unloading the Uhaul at our new home. Between now and then, there is a lot happening. Way too much to comprehend. We still have to work two more days each, Noah needs to have his other two wisdom teeth pulled, we’ll finish up our lives here in BC, pick up stuff we’ve been storing at friends’ places while we’ve been in our 300 square foot no bedroom insert inappropriate phrase home, pack up the Uhaul, potentially buy a new (to us) vehicle, and drive halfway across the country with two hopefully doped up and sleeping children.

Sounds easy, right? I’m not so convinced.

In other news, I joined Weight Watchers. Twelve weeks ago. In that time I lost 10 lbs. Actually, 10.2 to be exact. You may be thinking, Awesome! Way to go! Great job! but really, it’s attributed to moving twice in three months, being sick, and eating a whole ton of Kernels 94% Fat Free popcorn with dill pickle flavoring sprinkled on top.

In reality, I posess no self control. That is why every other diet had failed me I have failed every other diet I’ve ever tried. Three months ago, a friend of mine was telling me of her weight struggle and said that she had just joined Weight Watchers and how great it was. I told her to pick me up for the next meeting. (That’s why it works. Accountability. Or guilt. PoTAYto PoTATo.)

I didn’t blog about my Weight Watchers journey, because I didn’t feel like blogging about something that I was going to fail at again. It’s not as fun as it sounds. According to the Weight Watchers … stuff … what’s the right word? Not media … books, intelligence … I am seriously losing my vocabulary. OH! LITERATURE! ANYWAY, according to them, if you follow their “rules”, you can lose 2 lbs per week. Multiply that by 12 weeks, and you should be down 24 lbs by the end of your first Weight Watchers period.

It wasn’t that easy. By week 4, I was down 8 lbs. THAT WAS EIGHT WEEKS AGO. (And in those four weeks I was packing up 3,000 square feet of life BY MYSELF BECAUSE I’M A CONTROL FREAK and having the worse 5 days I’ve had in my married life which may or may not have involved smashing things.) After that, my weight went up and down and up and down … until I forced myself to stick to it for the last two weeks so that I could hit the 10 lb mark. I HAD TO hit the 10 lb mark. Or else. Or else what? I don’t know, I’d force-feed myself cookie-dough Blizzards or something, which would be totally self-destructive in more ways than one, but whatever.

So, does this make me happier? To be down 10 lbs? Not really. It does mean, though, that I fit into some pre-Liliana clothes. Some, not all. Not even close to all. Apparently weight loss also requires toning. I’m not toned. At all. It’s more like jello jigglers than anything. I know you have a nice mental picture in your head now. Brilliant.

So there you have it. I might post little tidbits on our journey, but other than that, I’ll catch you on the flip side.