By the title, you are probably thinking of the mother of all F words...but that's not what's on my mind today. What is on my mind is the word "FAT." Now, I have whined excessively about the fact that I am in Rehab (Weight Watchers) and about the frustrations that naturally flow from my association with said organization. This particular post will be no different.
I mean, every support group is just a little bizarre, isn't it? Mine is no exception. There are people in the group that appear normal. I mean, people that I can somewhat imagine having occasion to speak to in my real life. And naturally, there are others that I just watch every week and contemplate...that if it weren't for FAT...we'd have absolutely nothing in common at all. And I'd actually be really okay with that. My personal favorite group includes those that are so "gung ho" that I just want to slap a pound off of them (and give myself "activity points" at the same time!). Then there are those that have to buy eight boxes of Weight Watchers treats every week. The same Weight Watchers treats that gave me such a sugar high that I thought that LSD was listed as an ingredient (and who could tell either way, anyway)...and I have a high sugar tolerance.
Others are apparently oblivious to the fact that they seem as bizarre as I view them to be. I don't really know what causes an individual to pierce a body part fifteen times or to don a pair of Army fatigues, a Hooters tee shirt and flip flops...and look in the mirror and go...yep, I'm good with that look.
Tonight I went, actually got to talk to my friend, Valerie, for a few minutes and then settled in my seat. I hate that awkward fifteen minute interval where I am sitting there, nobody is talking to me (and I honestly do not care), I've tired of watching Donna (the lady who made "Lifetime" tonight...good for her) float up and down the aisles chatting everyone up and can't check my text messages (probably both of them I may have gotten...one of which is "Hey Mom..will you bring me some food while I'm at work.") because my stupid cheap phone died today...with my contact information...dang it.
So, I decided to pull Pati out (again). This time, I was careful NOT to just let her choose for me...and I started out with the Foo Fighters.
Since I'm apparently enamored with the letter "F" tonight...I suppose that it was most appropriate...and the Foo Fighters are always good. I mean, I had to go through about five versions of "Times Like These" before I settled on the one that came with some random Target CD...but "Learn to Fly" is always guaranteed to make me smile. My eyes were closed and I was actually listening to "Monkey Wrench" - really loud - and I could tell that everything had gotten kind of quiet. This made me a bit nervous as I sometimes start moving when I have Pati on and am not really aware of it. (I know what you're thinking...in someone else's blog...I'm "iPod Girl.")
So I opened my eyes up and what is at the front of the room but a couple (both of which offer witty and helpful advice every week whether we want it or not) with two boxes of spoons and a carton of Edy's ice cream. WHAT THE?
I mean...time and place, people. You've got a room full of starving and possibly ticked off (as I was...bad week) people about to share a half gallon of ice cream when OH YEAH...there's a possible pandemic going on. And before you ask...YES...I ate a bite when it came around. A big one. I mean...there WAS chocolate involved. But I digress...
Apparently Edy's makes a fat free and sugar free ice cream that by some sick freak of nature actually tastes decent. It is loaded with fiber, though, and let me tell you from personal experience...you might want to be a little careful with that gastric TNT. I've actually accidentally consumed 56 grams of fiber in one day. I was drinking Fiber One 10g drink mixes that were actually not bad, was working diligently and didn't really think anything of it until I thought that my internal organs were going explode like a WWII mushroom cloud through my navel. Needless to say, I do not recommend this. Just because I lived through it...I can't speak to anyone else's pain tolerance levels but my own. It wasn't up there with giving birth...but it was close.
ANYWAY, I didn't win a door prize (big shock, there) although it was whoo hoo happy night at Rehab. I had whipped everyone into a frenzy of keeping their food diaries last week...and this week we had drawings for those who had. At least I got my quarter from one of the "sponsors" from last week. And, oh yeah, only ONE person asked to see my food diary. The ol' heifers.
So, here's hoping that I have an actual decent week in Rehab. If I don't...I'll probably be writing about another "F word" next week...fiber. Sorry if you were expecting something a little more "interesting" but hey...Later!