Why I'll never join Weight Watchers

My sister-in-law joined Weight Watchers and is having great success on the program. In six weeks, she's lost 26 pounds. How do I know this? She told me. Every five seconds. For three days straight.

My sister-in-law is diabetic, so losing weight is a big deal for her. She's been able to avoid insulin, and reduced the amount of medications signficantly. I'm very happy for her, and I told her that. I thought that would be the end of the conversation.

Oh how wrong I was.

At dinner, she told me the news. Later on in the dinner, she told me she was cold because she's lost 26 pounds. Still later, for no reason that I can ascertain, she told me again. Later, after we'd made our plans for the following day, she realized she had to change the plans because she had a meeting she'd forgotten about - she was doing Weight Watchers and she had to go to a meeting, and her normal meeting fell on Christmas so she had to find a new meeting. And she had to go to the meeting because she's lost 26 pounds already and reduced her medications.

In case she hadn't already mentioned it.

The next day, we had to scrap our original plans to accomodate her meeting (I was fine with that). We had drama to deal with trying to coordinate everyone's schedules and preferences, namely from my mother-in-law, and made a new plan and then headed out to lunch together. And then came the menu selection and determination of number of points of each entree - because my sister-in-law was doing Weight Watchers, the new plan that Jennifer Hudson followed to lose her weight, and she'd already lost 26 pounds in six weeks. Then we went shopping, and she was trying to find new clothes because nothing fit because guess what? She lost 26 pounds in six weeks doing Weight Watchers.

I think Weight Watchers is a cult.

I don't know if it's the commercials or the meetings, but this seems to be a common thread for anybody I've known who has done Weight Watchers (or really followed any specific weight loss plan that is working). They talk about it constantly, and want everybody around them to know that A) they've joined Weight Watchers, and B) how much weight they've lost as a result of their participation in the cult. The constant need to share and talk about food and exercise and points and their program concerns me. Being conscious of what you're eating is one thing - obsessing about it is completely different.

Plus, I really don't care.

I don't tell people I don't care - at least not to their faces. I'm happy for people who set a goal and obtain it, I really am, and I will tell them that I am. But I won't ask for details, and I generally won't reciprocate with my own story. I will occassionally share if I think it's important to a story I'm going to tell, such as stories of gym whores knocking out the power on my treadmill or, more likely, because I want to complain. But generally speaking, I don't like to talk about exercising (because I hate it) or a weight loss journey (because I'm not on one). To me, asking about that stuff is like asking if I shaved my legs today (no, I didn't and they're very hairy. Aren't you glad you asked?). It's a task to be checked off, but does not need to be discussed regularly. And it's none of anyone else's business to ask. I'll share if I want. Otherwise, back off.

I'm pretty sure I feel this way because of my social work background, and the time I've spent around people with eating disorders and addictions. I'm sensitive to the relationships people have with food and exercise and counting calories, and I worry about people who display obsessive thought patterns about the topic. It's not healthy to think about food and exercise constantly - it's not healthy to think about any one thing constantly. And I distinctly remember that group therapy for eating disorders can be dangerous, especially for young women, because the group members sometimes try to one-up each other on who consumed the fewest calories or exercised the longest. It's a slippery slope from support to competition, which only exacerbates the overwhelming desire for control and perfection that is commonly exhibited by people with eating disorders. So the more someone wants to talk about exercise or food or weight loss, the more I suspect all is not well.

I am the opposite of what most health and fitness experts (or just random people who write about health and fitness) say: I don't want your support. I don't want to share my goals. I don't want to be held accountable. The more you ask, the less motivated I become. In fact, I'll think you're nosy. And I'll assume you're projecting your own issues on me, and I'll probably diagnose you with an eating disorder.

So I highly doubt you'll ever see me at a Weight Watchers meeting. But congratulations if it's working for you. Just please don't tell me about it.

Gym PSA

Along the same lines as my college search PSA and my Corporate Wife PSA, I now present a Gym etiquette PSA.

But first, an update on my workout plan: Success! Well, sort of. 

I went to the gym with no intention of running. I'm feeling a thousand times better and I'm pretty breathing normally. Still, I didn't want to push myself because I'm still not 100% healthy. And yet, I got on the treadmill, turned on my "work out" channel on my Pandora blackberry app and somehow convinced myself that I could do it today. I could run! I could run far!

AND I DID!

Ok, it wasn't far. But it was longer than I'd done, and it was exactly what my program had told me I was supposed to do. Well, almost.

And here's where the PSA comes in.

I'm running along, twenty seconds from finishing my last interval, and I'm in pain. I was tired and starting to get a cramp, but I wanted to finish. Jog, jog, jog, fifteen seconds to go and then all of the sudden...

SLAM

I hit the front bar on the treadmill right below my ribs. My treadmill had just come to a complete stop. At the same time, a woman had jumped onto the treadmill next to me (actually one foot still on my treadmill) where her son (or so I thought) was just starting his workout.

Had I hit the stop button? Had I dislodged the little magnetic thing? Nope.

The little whore had knocked out the power cord when she jumped on the treadmills. The ones people were already using.

In knocking the cord out, she also bent the prongs so there I was squatting on the ground, huffing and puffing, and bending the prongs back in place so I could plug it back in. It took her a good minute to realize that when I slammed into the bar and immediately started checking everything on my treadmill to see why my treadmill had suddenly stopped, it was because that pesky thing she kicked was in fact the plug to my treadmill, and not because I like injure myself. When she did recognize that I hadn't voluntarily thrown myself into the front of the treadmill, she said, "Was that me?"

And here's my PSA.

When I responded, "Yes" to her question, the proper response should have been a sincere apology. What did she say?

"Oh."

And that's why I'm writing a PSA about gym etiquette. And posting it as my Facebook status. And maybe I'll tweet something too. How long before #gymwhore becomes a trending topic? I'm kidding. About the trending topic thing, not about facebook. I had that posted before I even finished my cool down.

Oh, and I'm calling her a whore and not some other derogatory name because the guy I thought was her son was actually her husband, and cougar seems to be a badge of honor rather than an insult. But they had to have at least a twenty year age difference. He was probably younger than me, and she was... well, my mom's age. Gross.

Anyway, I'm calling this trip to the gym a success. I may not have run the final fifteen seconds, but I would have. And I didn't call the woman a whore to her face, so that's also success on my part.

Go me.

EDIT:
While I was running and feeling really proud of myself, I thought about a post in which I would discuss how the music I was listening to really inspired me and got me through the horrible, horrible running. Then the whore ruined my day. Oh well. I still want to share because these fun songs really picked me up, put a smile on my face, and got me to run (or kept me running) when I really, really didn't want to. Oh sure, some of them might not be "cool" according to people who have bad taste in music (ahem), but it worked for me. So there.

Hot n Cold by Katy Perry
So What by Pink
Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus
Hey Soul Sister by Train
Gold Digger by Kanye West

Fail

Because I was sick last week, I did not visit the gym as often as I probably should have. However, Saturday morning I was feeling a little better so I (reluctantly) went to the gym. I told myself that I was just going to do a brisk walk on the treadmill, just to get my heartrate up and get my blood flowing, but not over-exert myself since I hadn't been to the gym in a few days.

That was the plan.

Instead, I convinced myseld during my warm up that I should continue with the exercise program I've been following so that I didn't lose momentum (I'm not actually training for anything, it's just a program to follow because I was in a rut). And so I did. And at first, I thought I was going to die, but then I remembered I always feel like I'm going to die when I have to run, and so I kept going. After a few minutes, I felt like I was working hard, but felt fairly confident that I was not going to die on the treadmill.

I admit, I was really proud of myself. I was still sick, but I had pushed through my stuffy nose and general fatigue to do a good work out. I may have even asked my husband for a high five. He may have given me one and then mocked me for the rest of the day.

So Sunday when I went to the gym, I had somehow convinced myself that I could move on to the next phase of my exercise plan as scheduled. I'd had a great workout the day before and I'd gotten a good night's sleep, so I was feeling pretty confident that I could step up my intensity despite the fact that I couldn't breathe through my nose.

I don't know what I was thinking.

I started off feeling like I was going to die, as usual, but that feeling did not go away. Instead, I was pretty sure that I was going to collapse. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move my legs, and I couldn't believe I'd even considered taking the next step in my work out plan. Why did I think I could run longer than I had ever done? Did my snot have magical powers?

Clearly my illness made me delusional.

Oh well. I'll try again tomorrow... or whenever I feel better.

GO LUCY!!!

Just a quick shout out to my sister, who is running the Indianapolis Monumental Half-Marathon tomorrow! Never in a million years could I imagine running for 13+ miles, but this will be my sister's second time doing a half marathon. I admire her dedication to training and determination to do better in this race than her first. It's only a matter of time before she does her first marathon. Crazy girl. :)

GO LUCY!

(FYI - Lucy is not her real name, but that's what I call her. It's better if you don't ask why.)

Happy Anniversary, Charlotte!

Today marks our one year anniversary of living in Charlotte. When I think about where I was in my life a year ago compared to where I am now, I marvel at how much life has changed and how much I've personally changed.

There are geographic adjustments, of course, between Michigan and North Carolina. I fly a lot more now than I have in the past, simply because flying is necessary to visit most family and friends. I've visited places I'd never thought of visiting before, like Charleston, SC simply because it's convenient now. I find myself more concerned about hurricanes (though Charlotte is far from the ocean and hasn't been hit in more than 20 years) than snowstorms, and I've had to adjust my time line for seasonality of produce. When I shop for clothes, I invest in lightweight pants and short-sleeved shirts rather than heavy sweaters and sweatshirts. I found it necessary to invest in prescription sunglasses because I need to wear them year-round. These have been slight adjustments, but adjustments nonetheless.

Then there are actual changes I've made in my life. I exercise four to five times each week, and this is a major change for me. I exercised when I lived in Michigan, but it was inconsistent and always at the bottom of my priority list even though I wanted to do it more often. Here, I fit it into my day naturally. I started tennis lessons because it's fun, and because it's what the women do around here. I cook more often, though I admittedly use Dream Dinners to help me (I'm completely okay with that, and my husband does not care), and have greatly reduced the amount of junk that I eat. I've lost 30 pounds since moving to Charlotte which is the product of
the exercise and cooking, rather than a conscious effort to lose weight. My hair is lighter and my skin is darker from the sun, which is again natural and a product of being outside more often, and I generally look healthier than I did when I lived in Michigan.

My priorities have shifted. I've always considered my husband the primary breadwinner in our family, but I've also always considered myself a contributor to household income. I felt that because I also made money, my career was just as important as his. In the past, we've made moves in order to benefit my career and we've made moves to benefit my husband's career. After this move to Charlotte, I don't think I'd consider moving to another city to benefit my own career unless I was absolutely certain my husband was going to benefit too - as in, he also had a job opportunity that ensured greater professional and financial benefits in hand. I've always known he was smart and good at his job, but this year has shown me that he is truly remarkable at what he does, and he deserves every opportunity to develop professionally. I know, I know, I deserve the same opportunity. Except I don't. I'm good at what I do, but he is truly extraordinary. And frankly, I'll never make close to what he will and in these tough economic times, that is a very real and important factor.

Because of the realization, I've accepted more responsibility for the household tasks. I cook, I clean, and I launder (is that I word? If not, it should be and that should be the correct use for it). I'm not great at these tasks, and I doubt I ever will be. I still grumble as I do them, but I also never think "it's [husband]'s turn to do the dishes" as I unload the dishwasher. These jobs are just ways that I can contribute, and even though I feel like I'm not doing enough sometimes, I know my husband appreciates that he doesn't have to worry about them when he gets home from work.

And as I already learned, I'm happy. A year ago, if I had a crystal ball and saw what my life would be on September 15, 2010, I would've predicted I would be miserable because smart, independent, and career-driven women aren't supposed to be satisfied with life as a housewife. But I am, and it doesn't make me a less smart, independent, or career-driven woman - but perhaps now I'm a bit less selfish. I'm still trying to figure that out.

I sometimes wonder if I would've gotten to this point if we hadn't moved, and I really don't think I would have. My life would be different than it was a year ago regardless, but I'm not sure about how my priorities or my feelings or my body or my relationship with my husband would've changed, if at all. I've moved many times in my life, and I've always learned and changed as a result, but I think this is the first move in which I can say it's been nothing like I'd hoped but I wouldn't change a thing.

Happy Anniversary, Charlotte! Here's to many more!

Water aerobics bitches

I go to water aerobics class three or four times a week. We had a couple of intolerably hot weeks in Charlotte and water aerobics was a great way to get my exercise and not die. Now I just love it. The class is mostly comprised of older ladies, but my instructor gives suggestions on how to make it harder so I can really get a good work out. It's a lot more fun than the treadmill or elliptical, and given the time of day the class is offered, a hang out for Charlotte housewives.

The ladies in the class are a mixed bag. Some come to socialize, some come to exercise, some do a combination of both. I generally don't care what the reasons are as long as they don't distract our instructor from the lesson. There is one exception to this indifference: The stick thin women who do nothing and still get to be stick thin. They need to leave.

We have two women in the class who I'd guess are in their late 40s. They both wear bikinis to water aerobics, and not the athletic two piece types either. They wear the kind that look like if they bounce at all, their breasts will be on display for all of us. They may relish that idea, but I certainly don't need or want to see that. They come to class and talk the entire time and exert no effort at all. Half of the time they're not doing the right exercise and the other half of the time they simple go through the motions. For example, our instructor told us to grapevine across the pool so they did... slower than the 80 year old woman who just had her hip replaced.

Why pay for a class when you're not going to take advantage of it? Those are the kinds of people who make me angry in exercise classes. I'm jumping and propelling and squeezing and suspending and all the things that my instructor tells me to do to make it harder, and these sticks are doing nothing and getting to be thin. Grr. I hope there's some sort of karma that will right this injustice.

Until then, I'm just going to splash them as much as possible.