Confessions of a Serial Swooper

I went to a beautiful wedding the last weekend in May. One of my own bridesmaids (who I’m pretty bummed to have nearly lost touch with) was getting married and I was really looking forward to her wedding. I would have liked to have lost weight for it (she went to Elon and I swear I have never met a woman who went to Elon who wasn’t beautiful and/or so thin that I would likely be able to eat her for lunch…in a small bite) but I didn’t. So, since I hadn’t been to a wedding since last fall (you know you’re getting old when…) I just decided to choose from one of last year’s “fat dresses”.

Tried them on for the first time two days before the big event. And they were too small. Sh*t.

Bought a tent (oops, I mean, a dress) the next day, wore it to the wedding and sadly realized as I looked around that I might just be the heaviest woman in the place. Or, at least close to it. More Chardonnay, please.

Enough. On June 1, I joined Weight Watchers, which was a successful program for me before my own wedding and I knew I was finally in the right mind set (shame is a powerful motivator) to start it up again.

And, now, a little more than four months later, I’m well on my way to becoming the next Valerie Bertinelli (without the hankering for tattooed rock stars). I’ve lost 23 pounds and I’m in the groove. But, the annoying thing is that I can still wear my clothes from 23 pounds ago. I mean, they certainly look a little better on me but you’d think I’d have dropped a few sizes wouldn’t you? So, I’m trying to look at 23 pounds in terms of other things. Things that actually mean something to me in my stay-at-home Mom-ness.

For example, I lost the equivalent of:

roughly 23 bags of coffee beans

my Keurig one-cup coffee machine when half filled with water

4 Directv DVR/HD cable boxes

2 XL HE Gain Laundry Detergent bottles

47 Thomas The Tank Engine DVDs

And, that all makes me feel a little better about the fact that I’m not entitled to a new wardrobe…well, at least not yet.