As I type tonight, I’m eating a Weight Watcher ice cream cone. You know-the 2 point ones that make you poop. (yes, more poop talk) And when I’m through I’ll probably go forage for another low point treat, despite the fact that its after 10pm and the Princess is happily camped on my left “nursings.” She is more than slightly annoyed with me everytime I precariously dangle her from one arm while she latches on like I’m pulling her from her last meal and trudge down the hall, yet again, to the fridge. At least, by now, Houseboy (my brother) has gone to bed and I’ll only be flashing the Kaiser with the top of my boob (not to mention the gut hanging out the now uncovered waistline—oooh so sexy, its really a wonder the Kaiser doesn’t jump me more often) as I head for more food.
My poor brother is really sick of seeing soooo much of his sister’s breasts. Truthfully, he never sees much. 19 months of nursing the Count and 6 months and counting with Princess Peanut has made me pretty proficient. But a flash of skin here and a lost latch on there has really taken its toll on 26-year old, single Houseboy.
Not too long ago he was talking to a buddy on the phone and I hear:
“Dude, I see my sister’s boobs ALL the time.”
long pause in him talking
“No, its not sick…dude…Dude…DUDE…she’s breastfeeding.”
And then, to my shock and amazement I hear him tell his friend all the great things about breastfeeding. Huh. Guess he actually does listen sometimes…but anyway…back to me eating…
I nearly threw my WW book out the window today over chicken nuggets. I’ve been eating AAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL day. I was working on Flex points by 2pm. It was sad. I made the Count dinner during the hockey game (hooray! hockey’s back!) thinking I’d be too distracted by my Stevie Yzerman’s cutie patootie face (and the new rule changes, of course) to think about Count Waffle’s leftover nuggets. No such luck. Commercial = eat a half of a nugget, tell myself it doesn’t count as a point. Stoppage in play = the other half, this time with the ketchup. By the end of the first period I had polished off 6 nuggets. I sat on the couch for what seemed like an eternity debating if I would count the nuggets in my daily points. Plus what had to be a tablespoon of ketchup. I’m counting them. Screw it, the box is in the garbage anyway, I’m not counting them. No…wait…I’m counting them. But I really don’t want to. But I should. Oh, just today I won’t. No, I said that last week with that cobbler, I have to count them. No…don’t be stupid…just forget about it. And so on. And so on.
By overtime I had fished the box out of the trash, calculated 6 f’in nuggets plus the goddamn ketchup. And I will now go trudge the hall again…maybe this time for some cherry tomatoes and 2 points worth of low fat dressing. Hope the Princess is ready for another trip.
LOL! LOL!
All I can say is that your posts are making very glad of two things:
1: I’m male.
2: I’ll never have children!
[GRIN] But I’m sure glad that there are folks out there like you that DO have kids.
And stick with the WW! You’ll hit your target yet. Who cares if you slip a bit here and there? It’s really a path, not a goal. You’re allowed to step off the path to smell the flowers now and again.
Orion
My husband keeps reminding me that you “have to LIVE” every once in awhile. True. True. And I’ll be thinking that as I reach for the cookies with my coffee this morning!!!
I went through the same damn thing with Weight Watchers. I joined when my Bug was 3 months old. I was still nursing and the leader told me I hadt to add 10 more points to my regular points allowace. I so totally over ate more than I was supposed to. But amazingly…I lost 46 pounds. In a year and a half. This is not as high as I thought, but I’m proud! I’ve since stopped WW, too busy, but I half do it at home.