I think it's safe to say that my self-confidence is shot beyond all recognition. I thought I was doing better. As of last Saturday, I was a smidge over half-way to my goal weight, and as of last Tuesday I had worked out at a semi-intense level twice since Sunday (did you get that? Because it's kind-of late and I'm not quite certain that made sense).
My weigh-in day for WW is Saturday, which means tomorrow (or today - however you look at it), I will have to step on the scale - a stern mistress - and face the music. This past week I received a visit from what has become the bane of my existence since Lucas was born - good old Aunt Flo. Well, I sort-of take that back. Aunt Flo does bring with her the relief of knowing that Lucas won't be expecting a sibling any time soon. So I guess that's something. But otherwise, she's a real jerk. And she makes me feel like I'm in my third trimester: fat, bloated, and ravenous.
So before I get all sidetracked by this topic and scare off all two of my male readers (which is a grossly exaggerated estimate - besides my dad, I don't know of any other male readers I might have), I'll just flat-out tell you that I pretty much ate everything that wasn't nailed down this week. Which you wouldn't think would have too much of a terrible impact, but I just bought a scale this week (yeah, I've been going to my mom's to weigh in all this time) and have been weighing myself every day because I'm so excited about having a scale, and the numbers have not been pretty. I'm actually afraid of weighing in tomorrow. I know you're not supposed to weigh yourself more than once a week, but I did so I guess the joke is on me.
And if I'm being honest with myself and everyone else, I have absolutely zero plans of getting back to eating within my points until Monday since I'm anticipating a high intake of deviled eggs on Sunday, as well as other Easter deliciousness. (I stupidly looked up how many points were in a deviled egg and it made me want to cry - 4 per half egg. I'll just pretend I didn't do that. But misery does love company, and now you know how many points are in a deviled egg and you can feel guilty with every bite right along with me.)
So there's the whole weight issue dragging me down. And then today, Good Friday, I decided to get dressed up to go to church. I usually don't get too dressed up because any time I put on anything that does not resemble jeans and a t-shirt, it's pretty much a guarantee that Lucas will either spit up, pee or otherwise bodily emote on me. And even in jeans, there's no promise that I'm safe. But I risked it today because I'm just totally BA that way (I've decided that I can't really swear or otherwise say bad words here because my parents and other family elders do frequent this blog. And also, I'm trying to give the stuff up because I don't want my son to have a potty mouth like his mommy. S0 if you ever come across an abbreviation you don't get, it's probably a swear. And armed with that knowledge, you can probably figure out what I'm trying to say.)
ANYWAY, back to getting dressed up. I managed to find my leggings (I honestly think they hide from me) and I pulled out a tunic I wore on New Years. I was happy to observe that it looked a lot looser on me than it did on NYE, so that was a bit of a boost. Also, I have these new sandal-heels that are totally hot AND they come from Naturalizer so they are actually comfortable. I know, I know. Hot sandals from Naturalizer is an oxymoron. Well I defy anyone to look at these shoes and tell me they're not hot. And it's ok for me to own Naturalizers because I'm a mom now. I would post a picture of them from the website but they were on amazing clearance and are all sold out. That's right - I found the trifecta, the Holy Grail of shoes: hot, comfortable and cheap. Go me.
So I put on this outfit and checked myself out in the mirror. I decided that I looked pretty good; chic, young, relatively fashion-forward, and my legs looked pretty skinny (thank you God for black leggings). I did my gym walk into church and took my adorable son out of his car seat, basking in the "aw, how cute's" that we usually get in church. And then they say, "And your son is pretty adorable too." Ba-dum-psh. (That's a drum dealy. Not sure what it's called exactly.)
I noticed that some of the teens were involved in the service, and passively observed them getting ready. I noticed that one of the girls had a cute dress on over leggings. And then I realized that it was my exact outfit except she had belted the tunic. I mentally told myself this was not a big deal. It's not like I have an iron grip on Kohls. I couldn't reasonably expect to be the only person in the world to buy the same tunic.
As usual, reason did not automatically win out in this situation and I immediately started observing her head-to-toe look and comparing it with mine. We both had the tunic and the black leggings. She had the belt, and belts over tunics seems to be "in" right now. One point to her. But don't forget - I had the SHOES. Ha, my secret weapon. The belt got her one point, but my shoes had to give me at least five.
And yet, I could not leave it at that. As a true indicator that I really am not feeling too good about myself these days, what I did next is embarrassing me to remember. I actually started comparing which of us was skinnier. And OF COURSE she was. Why wouldn't she be? She's probably a whole fifth-grade student younger than me. When I was her age, I thought I was fat when I weighed 130 lbs. And just to put that into perspective, I will never, ever, ever again see a number on the scale that begins with 13. I would have to give up eating entirely to get there, and even then it would probably take a month. I don't even want to weigh that, it's not a healthy weight for me.
When I went up for communion, I had to walk right past her and her friend. And then there was a hold-up and I got stuck standing right next to her pew. And she took one look at me, covered her mouth with her hand and started frantically whispering to her friend. Instead of mentally shaking myself and yelling at the insecure 13 year old living in my head, I got mentally defensive. I was all like, "Listen you, this tunic was in the LADIES section of Kohls. I was not the one shopping out of my department, you were! So this tunic is rightfully mine. And I bought it in December, when it was as close to full price as I'll ever spend. I bet I had it first!"
And if I had said that out loud, I would be writing this from the loony ward with round-the-clock observation and 4-a-day therapy sessions. I can barely even believe I'm sharing this. It's coming across as totally pathetic to me, and I'm the one who thought it!
So after I enjoy all the Easter yummy-ness that is coming my way, I'm going to have to get back on track with WW and working out. Working out really boosts my confidence, and I clearly need that more than ever these days!