Here's what's up this week:
Monday: Smoked Cheese Pasta Bake
Wednesday: Escarole with Bacon and White Beans
Thursday: Chicken with Broccoli and Garlic
Friday: Tacos (boys); Weight Watcher's Dinner (me)
Saturday: Pizza night
All the meals above with the exception of the pizza and tacos are either Weight Watcher's or Cooking Light recipes. Tonight I'm rejoining the ranks of Weight Watcher's International after a year away. Oh, the weight she do come back on. Not all of it, but enough to make me think it's time to get back on the wagon.
Really, I could do a whole blog about my life-long struggle with weight, dating back to the time of my first Twinkie, circa 1967. I fear it will always be a struggle. I've gotten to my goal weight and then skyrocketed back up too many times for me to think there is something at this late date--when my metabolism has more or less kicked back for the duration--that will put a halt to the cycle. Will power? Nope, that comes and goes. Triathalons? My knees are pretty shot already. Surgery? Doesn't work. Drugs? Don't like 'em.
No, the only thing to do is sign up for Weight Watchers, count points, exercise more, eat less, until I can't stand it any more. Then I'll take a break, gain back weight, panic, and begin the cycle again. I am the yo-yo diet poster girl, only when I do diet, it's in a healthy way. I don't starve myself, I eat a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, I never pass up dessert.
I will say, if you have to diet, Weight Watchers is the way to go. It's a very sane approach to eating and weight loss. Does it work in the long run? I think for a lot of people it does, in one way or another. I know a fellow WW vet who's lost over a hundred pounds and she struggles to keep the weight off, hits big, bad plateaus, gains. But she shows up every week and gets weighed, and I think that's the trick if there's any: showing up and getting on the scale. I always know I'm in trouble when I can't bring myself to step on the machine. That's how it's been all summer, and I'm paying for my lack of fortitude now with tight waistbands and flabby upper arms (who are we kidding? I could weigh 115 and still have flabby upper arms).
So expect skinnier menus in upcoming weeks. Fortunately, my husband's in the mood to lose, too. Of course, he'll drop ten pounds in two weeks, the way men do, and I'll have to grit my teeth through week after week of half-pound losses. Really, it's not fair. But at least he won't complain about eating mock shepherd's pie. The boys? Oh, they'll complain all right, but they'd complain anyway, and besides, they can eat whatever they want and not gain a pound. Talk about unfair!
Okay, off to rid the house of chocolate ...
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