WW Week 3....

It was our second weigh in.  Last week I lost 6.2 pounds.  This week...a measly 1.8.  Two weeks in, 8 pounds down.  I guess that's ok.  I didn't get a sticker though :(
It's been a rough week.  I posted my blog on the weight watcher site and people called me a racist for my remarks about the Indian call center.  Don't people know that India is known for their call centers?  Haven't they seen Slumdog Millionaire?  If I point out that a car was probably made in Detroit, is that racist? How much sense does that make?  Then, a girl said I shouldn't call myself fat.  That it was self deprecating and a sign that I'm "hurting."  Uh....noooo.  I called myself fat because I'm fat.  I'm a fat realist. (Although, this week I guess I'm a less fat realist.)  The only hurt I'm feeling right now are hunger pangs because I'm STARVING.  So...I decided that folks on the weight watchers message boards aren't ready for me.  I need politically incorrect folks who have the intelligence to recognize the art of sarcasm. I need you.
Yesterday we went to Buffalo Wild Wings.  (Note to self: Don't go to Buffalo Wild Wings when you only have 7 points left for the day). Everyone around me is ordering wings....the honey BBQ ones.  I listen....and weep silently in my heart.  I look at my little WW app to see how many points are in an order of wings....33. That means, I couldn't eat for the next day and a half.  So I search in a frenzy for something that fits in my 7 point range.  Finally I find it.  The kid's meal - cheeseburger....with fries mandarin oranges.

I do like my little WW app.  It has a scanner.  You can go to the grocery store and scan items to find out how many points are in it.  Of course I head for the WalMart pizza section to discover that their pizzas are only 8 points a slice.  How awesome is that?  I take it home and cook it....and then it dawns on me....maybe their slice/serving, is different than what I'm thinking.  Hmmmm.  I check the label.  Twelve servings in one pizza.  Okay....so I'll cut it into 12.  So my serving size went from envelope size....to postage stamp size.  Eight points per bite basically.
A few things from our meeting today.
I found out you can use your hand to figure out portion sizes.  Your palm is about the size of what your meat serving should be.  Make a fist and that's a cup.  Make a cup with one hand and that can hold 3 ounces of nuts.  Your thumb tip is about a tablespoon and your finger tip is about a teaspoon.  There. Now you don't need a scale.  I personally plan on using Rob's gigantic hand when I need to know how much steak I should be eating.
Annoying man made his appearance as well.  Our speaker was talking about how her husband over did his points and couldn't sleep because his belly hurt.  She had an "I told you so" moment with him...annoying man raises his hand.
"I have a point of contention with that," he says. "You shouldn't shame him into this program.  He shouldn't feel shame.  I don't want to feel ashamed for overdoing it." Blah Blah Blah.
I imagine my hands around his throat while he's talking.  Tightening...slowly...then all at once.  Then I think to myself, "Why am I so grumpy?  Why do I want to hurt him?"  Oh that's right....I'M STARVING.  And I was eating mandarin oranges last night while everyone else was sucking Honey BBQ sauce off their fingers.  The other guy in the meeting starts to speak up but his observation dies down into a whisper.  I see that his wife has placed a death grip on his knee.  I give her a mental high five.
The sweet speaker, who is always encouraging and joyful, finesses the annoying man until his grumblings subside and we're dismissed to face another week.
And as I walk out the door a friend sends me this....and I'm thankful for friends...who get me.