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Weighty Results

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I made a promise to myself that this year I would, once and for all, get rid of the extra weight that I’ve been lugging around for the last ten years. I’m not going to lose weight, because, losing something means someday you may find it again. I’m getting rid of this mass of sorry excuses for good.

I joined Weight Watchers online. I’m a bit of a loner and the thought of attending meetings and sharing tends to make me just want to cram a buttery croissant, lathered with raspberry jam, straight into my pie hole. So … I joined online. I am thrilled to report that in three weeks time I have lost ten pounds, worked out almost everyday, eaten healthier than I could imagine, and have the energy I had when I first met a young man that spun my socks, so to speak.

This is crazy good but I’m not here to be a spokeswoman for WW. The proverbial light bulb went off when I realized that getting control of the food that I shove into my mouth without thought was the first step to taking control of the rest of my life.

I’ve been talking about getting published, losing weight, going to Italy, and finding Mr. Right for as long as I’ve been hiding frozen Reese’s cups. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe it’s only been for the last ten years. I feel so good right now and I can’t imagine slipping back into my self-induced food coma and becoming lackadaisical about my life another second.

Is weight loss the answer to everything that is not adding up in my life? Probably not, but as Springsteen sang, “I’m just bored and tired with myself,” is no longer my motto.

I believe that taking control of one’s weight, finances, relationships, and fetishes gives you power. I’m not speaking of ill-gotten, corrupt power but the kind that makes positive and responsible changes. It lifts you up to the possibilities of your life and the contributions you can make to others.

Maybe I’m just delirious from the withdrawal of double-fudge mocha cake and fried pastry dough but I think I may have found the “secret” to the goals I’ve set for myself. So stayed tuned, soon I’ll be sharing with you stories about me shopping for the right size 8 jeans, getting my first advance, and spending that advance in Italy where hopefully some fine Italian man will sneak a pinch on my finely-toned ass.


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