After apparently five weeks of being MIA at my local Weight Watchers meeting, I returned tonight. Sadly, I didn’t plan accordingly and forgot that it was the beginning of the year and the first meeting at our meeting place that wasn’t snowed out since the new year. That meant that the line was insanely long, full of fresh faces. They all shared the same look – that look of fear as the line slowly inched forward to the grey metal square. They watched as the seasoned veterans disrobed down to the lightest layer of clothing, ritualistically preparing their weight tracker for the kind receptionist who greats those she knows by name. Shoes come off and the line moves forward in an array of colorful socks, each pair taking a 2 inch step up at their final destination.
I may have shared that look today. Even though I have been there for a long time, having been away for a month was nerve-wracking. Add to the fact that the month I was MIA was the month of December, also known as the month full of Christmas parties, Christmas cookies, and lots of Holiday cheer. (You can read that as I completely threw my Points tracker out the window and ate what I wanted, when I wanted.)
I knew that the scale was going to show a gain. I hadn’t been doing anything to promote the ideals and values that a good Weight Watcher should show. I wasn’t saying the Weight Watcher pledge. I got a little down on myself instead. Alright, fine. I beat the living daylights of out myself over it. Positive self-talk has never been a strong point for me and those who know me would claim that I’m a perfectionist and that I don’t allow myself to make mistakes. Then, when I make those mistakes, I just spiral around the crazy-go-round with them. It’s not always pretty. That’s why I knew I had to face the music and really get it done. Knock on wood that I don’t need any major medical things this year.
The worst thing is that I had one of those moments when the song you hear just hits you with a 2×4 across the face and you realize that it’s now your theme song. The daughter has been on a Disney Frozen kick (along with almost every other girl from 4 years old and up) and that means I have probably heard “Let It Go” about fifty million times now. There’s a few lines in the song that summed up my inner voice, the one that I sometimes don’t listen to when I should probably listen to that voice all the time.
“It’s time to see what I can do / To test the limits and break through / No right, no wrong, no rules for me, / I’m free! / Let it go”
I need to let it go and see what I can do. It always looks good on paper. I just need to figure out exactly how to do that. Let it go. I need to let my mistakes go. Let go of my not so perfect days. Let go of perfection. Someone once told me that perfection was boring anyway. Just let it go. Maybe someday I might fully and truly understand what those words mean.
No matter how I slice it, I have to let go of the fact that my body cannot process food the same as other people’s. I need to let go of the fact that I will always, no matter what age, have to pay attention to what I’m eating. I will always count points, even if I do not write them down. Through December, I was counting points mentally. I knew how many points I was over every day because I was keeping count. I can rattle of points values of foods like Rain Man can rattle off a tv schedule. I’m going to just accept that. Maybe that will help letting go of some of the other stuff a little easier.
Tomorrow is week one, for the sixth time officially. I’m letting go of the other times. Tomorrow is Friday. It’s a day. It’s one day. It’s one day in which I’m going to count my points. It’s one day where I will make good choices and if I slip, I will forgive and move on. It’s one day. It’s one meal. It’s letting go of all the other stuff and living in just the moment. Let go of the what ifs. Let go of the woulda, coulda, shouldas. Let go of the maybes. Just deal with the moment. Let it go, let it all go but that one moment.
Let it go.