Watching Weight

I talked to my sister, Amy, earlier, and apparently she and Mom are keeping themselves entertained at William's nightly feedings by reading aloud Cal's and my blogs. She said that Mom could hardly get through Cal's last post (about The Horse) she was laughing so hard. I figure it's time I do my auntly duty and blog, as well.

For the past two weeks, I've been doing the good ol' Weight Watchers again. For those of you who've been with me for awhile now, you know that this practice is a commonly reoccuring one in my life, particularly in the spring. I lost about 35 pounds or so 3 years ago, and about once a year since then I've had to go back in to re-lose the 5-10 lbs that somehow creep on over the winter. This time, it was more like 15, but we're not gonna talk about that.

Anyway, what I've found quite funny about my trips to the Weight Watchers meetings is that, every year that I go, the same people are there. The exact same people. The exact same -- in every size, shape, and form.

That's right, folks. When my friend Janet (who lost over 135 lbs, by the way) and I walked into that little storefront room 3 years ago last February, we met Bobbie Joe (a gourmet caterer who ended up doing the food at Janet's wedding), her friend Winnie (who always brings a big Zaxby's cup with her and sips on it the whole time, making me crave that good sweet tea), Thomas the Teacher, some other gourmet chef guy for whom I never learned a name, and two nurses who sat in the corner and cracked sarcastic jokes the whole time. Oh, and the lady who once told a story about how she ate three candy bars in her truck one day, while she was on her diet. I never learned her name, either. When I walked in the room two weeks ago? The old gang was still there.

What's amusing (and a little endearing) to me is that none of them seem to have lost a bit of weight in all that time. They pay their weekly $12, laugh off the Scary Lady behind the counter when she says with that infamous grimace, "oooooh, not such a great week this time, huh?", sit down in their regular spots, and shake their heads at each other as they all discuss how much weight they had gained. Then they smile, shrug, and say, "Well, tonight begins a new week! We'll do better!"

The meetings, I think, are their big social events of the week. They come because they relate to each other, and they like each other. It's no different from going to a bar to hang out, you know? They pay their "cover", then get a good hour and a half of visiting in without the hassle of getting all dolled up and having to shout over music and cigarette smoke.

Then, every week as we're walking back out to the cars, I overhear one saying to another, "What's your passion tonight, friend?" And the reply? "I think I'm feeling pizza!"

And off they go, starting the new week with a bang.