Curing the hiccup(s)

I knew it would happen. My colossal mountains of food and oceans of drink have been rewarded with a 3.5lb weight gain and I'm feeling chastened and ready to climb back on the Weight Watchers wagon. Tomorrow. Because, as we all know, it's a) wrong to start a sentence with "because" and b) any food and drink you consume the evening after your weigh-in does not count. It's the unwritten rule of WW, the sort of thing they should put in the introductory handouts. You get weighed, you eat something a little naughty, then you start again the following morning. Everyone I have ever met who follow WW follows this rule. It's like broken biscuits. They have no points or calories. And nibbles of food you eat standing at the fridge. None of it counts.

I'm finding it hard to leave calories behind and switch my allegiance wholeheartedly to points. Particularly when it comes to seeds. A tsp of seeds (pumpkin, sunflower or linseed) has about 20 calories (from memory. 20-ish, anyway) yet costs me half a point, the same as an apple which has about 75 calories. This seems illogical to my calorie-led brain. I know it all balances out at the end of the day but my morning smoothie is looking a bit sick now I have to count 1.5 points for my three different teaspoons of seeds. But, then again, I can have 100g of raspberries for half a point whereas I only used to allow myself 75g when I was calorie counting. Swings, meet roundabouts.

But I need the meetings. I need the discipline of the weekly weigh-in and someone asking me if I knew why I'd gained weight or congratulating me for losing it. We have a new leader who's about 23 and quite nervous but very sweet. And she's lost 125lb, which is fairly bloody impressive and it kind of gives me the confidence I've been lacking that I can do this. I can lose the 150+ pounds still hanging around my physique like a bad smell. It may take me longer than I thought but it will happen. I was foolish to think I could lose a set 2lb a week for two years and boom, that would be that. It worked out that I was losing around 2lb a week but nothing accounted for the giant two-month blip that led to me putting a stone back on. I was also foolish to plan my weight loss in my diary and attempt to reach ever-increasing targets. Of course, I'd slip behind then eat pizza to beat myself up for not being perfect.

I had pizza yesterday. And chicken strippers. And potato wedges. And 1.25 litres of fat coke. The misery took over and I binged. It tasted marvellous but I felt so guilty afterwards that I wish I hadn't done it. But I can't say it won't happen again. I'm slowly learning that this weight-loss business isn't always about setting and meeting targets. It's not about points and calories and pounds and inches. It's about what goes on in your head as well as what goes in your mouth. If your head isn't in the right place, it doesn't matter how hard you try. Something will come and bite you in the rear. Something called life. I want to lose 2lb a week every week. I want to hit my targets. But I know that I won't always do that. And I think I'm starting to accept it. That, mes amis, is progress.