Okay, I have been on Weight Watchers for 3 weeks now. That means 3 weeks of no ice cream, no fried food, very little rice, no soda, no juice, no pizza, and tiny, tiny -- did I say "tiny"? -- portions. And I lost a measly 8.9 pounds.
I've been working out 3 or 4 times a week. AND I LOST A MEASLY 8.9 POUNDS!
With each passing week, it feels harder, not easier to stick with the plan. I know that I am doing it the proper way -- the internet is replete with reports that optimal weight loss for long term maintenance is 1 to 2 pounds a week. Lose any more than that, and your body thinks you're starving and slows your metabolism down to a crawl. Weight Watchers does it the right way. So why am I so miserable?
Progress is glacial, that's why. I am the kind of person who needs immediate gratification (hence, my current predicament). Which is why this past weekend, I forgot about Weight Watchers for a minute and ate an entire fried fish. And fried plantains. And drank soda. And ate a whole hero sandwich -- with mayo! Then I had some ice cream. And movie theatre popcorn WITH butter.
Hey, I figured that if it took me 3 weeks to lose a piddly 8.9 pounds, it would take a while for the scale to creep up. WRONG! The next day, I hopped on the scale and was shocked to see that I had gained 2 pounds overnight. So now, I've lost only 6.9 friggin' pounds. Where is the justice in that???
Oh well, now that I've had my relapse, it's time to go back to the deprivation (sigh).
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