my weigh in day. weight watchers is AA for food. and it’s taken me decades to learn that i have a problem. at least i only have to show up once a week. the meeting’s at 6:30 p.m., so i cut off food and water around two, don my magic featherlight pants and t-shirt, and think skinny thoughts. all while just a wee bit tense.
of course, any weight loss achieved while living with the man i love is a miracle, as he files recipes in color coded notebooks – yellow for chicken, red for beef, green for seafood – and follows the food network and top chef shenanigans. i’m convinced this obsession began when his parents had him sleep in the kitchen on a fold-out bed as a little Brooklyn lad. the poor kid thought the stove was his mother.
and the fact that sister Hot Pants is tall and lithe puts the pressure on. but off to be weighed i shall waddle.