GUEST POST: Just Like the Good Olé Times

When Kirsten started Weight Watchers a year ago, she told her family that she wasn't fat, just incredibly prepared for her "before" picture. She is 50 pounds closer to her 120 pound weight loss "after" pictures. She started blogging in March and loves the extra support, accountability, and giggles it has added to her journey. Recently, she began a series called, "Freaky Friday Post Swap" and asked me to do some blog swapping. I said yes before I even knew what it required of me cause I lurve Kristen so much and she's hilarious! You can visit Kirsten's blog and see my post for today over at http://results-not-typical-girl.com.



It’s one thing to indulge in a calorically-intensive plate and think, “Damn, I’m glad I hit that.” But Tex-Mex just doesn’t make my taste buds horny.
Once a week, the estrogen-enriched portion of our fam-damily goes out for evening vittles. This week, the Girls’ Night Out ritual landed us at Dan Pablo’s; it was SO not my pick. Ugly-bridesmaid-dress kind of not my pick. So don’t be looking at their FB page to see if they have my picture in their formerly-known-as-fan “like” collage; it ain’t there. Nothing sucks red-ass baboon booty pimples like going to a restaurant where you know nothing on the menu is going to be point-worthy.

I’ve been counting my Weight Watcher points for almost a year. It’s been a slow but successful process. I’ve lost over 200 sticks of butter and am working on the last 14bags of sugar. I suppose it says something about how much journey I still have left when I’m visualizing it in terms of snickerdoodle ingredients. Ooops.

As the enthusiasm-impaired host walked us to our table, I surveyed the joint and realized that approximately 2/3 of the tables had a morbidly-obese patron. That’s a big common de-bottom-nator, even for Indiana. Many were on oxygen. Most looked like they were being sodomized by their too-tiny chair seats. I felt like I was in some bizarro version of a Christmas Carol where the Ghost of F’d-Up Future was showing me what it would be like to move around or breath if I didn’t get this emotional-eating crap permanently under control.

Old School Me would typically react to anxiety in completely counter-productive methods. Worried about money? CHARGE! Feeling down about being up? NOM. NOM. NOM. But my one-day-at-a-time Weight Watcher lessons have started to morph together into healthy habits and I am stoked to be consciously recognizing my triggers. I'm learning from my program that just because I couldn’t find something that sounded good to eat, I didn't need to react by eating a billion bad-tasting foods trying to prove myself wrong. And I didn't! UBER WOOT with a WOOT on top! I ordered from the kids' menu and left filled with an oversized portion of pride.

Ed Bluestone said, “I have a great diet. You’re allowed to eat anything you want, but you must eat it with naked fat people.”

If that’s not available, I recommend the Dan Pablo’s on 82nd Street in Indianapolis. Olé!