Lea makes me snort. Almost every time I talk to her, she says something so off the wall, that I can’t contain myself. "34G" she said the other day. "G!!! Stephanie." I didn’t know they made bras bigger than DD. "I swear to God, Neph, it’s like carrying around two extra bags of groceries." That’s when I snorted. She calls her breasts her "groceries" now. And if she doesn’t, she should. Because that’s funny shit. We’re now vowing to join Weight Watcher’s together. She’s in Montana. I’m in Texas. We’ll share our successes over the phone, motivating each other.
Or not.
For me, it’s about being accountable to someone else. I need to get on a scale in front of someone else. They need to see what I weigh and stare at me with some kind of judgment. I need to be made to feel bad, but not so bad that I want to go home and cry. I need to be tortured a little. In New York, there was the Weight Nazi of the upper east side for that. But even that, eventually, became unhealthy. I cried at night, when I weighed only 116lbs. because he told me I couldn’t follow directions. "What’s wrong with you? Do you want to be fat the rest of your life?" I went home and cried in a pillow. I don’t want that again. I want someone to remind me that I’m human, that as long as the doctor says I’m in a healthy weight range, then I’m really fine. But I’m seeing the numbers climb, and it scares me. It doesn’t scare me enough, though. I’ve come to shrug recently, really not caring enough to do anything about it. Every day is a contradiction. I haven’t made up my mind.
That’s the key to really losing weight. It’s not about the diet. It’s about the strength of your resolve. Mine is kept elevated when I’m surrounded by others who are trying. It’s why Weight Watcher’s might work. I know people do it just online, now. That doesn’t work for me, even with the online chats. For me, it’s all about portion control, not being on a program that allows you cake or fettuccine. I don’t want to see what I can get away with eating. I want to be healthy and feel more confident. To stop eating like a pig, but to keep laughing like one.


