Our fearless leader knew full well what was going on. She stood by the scale and recorded the numbers, watching our shoulders slump as one by one we got the news: the big drop we’d come to expect had, pfft, disappeared.
As soon as our butts were once more planted on those hard middle-school seats, she faced our gloomy group in true fearless fashion.
Are you disappointed? she asked.
Heads drooped on slack necks.
Don’t be, she said.
Yeah, sure, I thought.
Were we eating healthier?
How did we feel?
Uh, great, frankly.
On my weekly reflection sheet, which I’d completed before the meeting as per my contract, I had filled in the blanks like this:
My goal for this week: “to stick to the eating plan and the exercises, and have energy to enjoy my busy week.”
Hello? Energy to enjoy a busy week? What drugs was I taking?
This week I accomplished: “Stuck to the eating plan (except for 1 slice of bread and 2 squares of chocolate), exercised well and had lots of energy to enjoy all my activities.”
My best day was: “Tuesday and Wednesday because I ate well and exercised well and was still going strong at evening meetings.”
Oh yeah. I remember now.
I believe I felt this way because: “I’m eating only nutritious food (except for that chocolate) and I can do more in a week than I have for years.”
All that and I still lost a pound.
So I’d failed to lose five pounds or three or even two. Physically, I felt great. Energized.
And I lost a pound.
Nonetheless, I was disappointed in myself.
I could go with the depression, wallow in it. That would be fun.
Normally it would also include a box of cookies and a family-sized bag of potato chips. Also possibly dip.
This time? Well, I couldn’t gird my loins – my belt was already cutting into my muffintop – but I could lift my chin, straighten my backbone, stiffen my upper lip and, basically, suck it up.
To be honest, I wasn’t even tempted by the cookies and chips. And that was a little freaky too.