My husband can smell wind in the air two days away. He can tell you if it’s a northerly or southerly route and how many mph it will be. He can tell you hour by hour the exact time it will arrive. He schedules his work and our vacations around windy days. He scours the weather channel like sports fanatics watch ESPN.
He’s a windsurfer.
This past holiday weekend brought three days of wind, wind, and more wind. Fortunately for my husband, we’d made no plans, so I pitched my to-do list into that wind, took a few naps on the back porch, caught up on phone calls with sisters, and generally lazed around. Oh, and I probably ate a tad more than I should.
So it was rather a shock when I woke up Tuesday morning and realized I had to be at my Weight Watchers meeting in less than an hour. I’d had a dip in my weight before the weekend, but had major concerns it wouldn’t hold. The seat of my pants didn’t feel quite as loose. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly; then remembered that maneuver only works on those blood pressure machines.
Your weight is not exposed to anyone else waiting to weigh in; only the person checking you in can see it. It’s hard to tell from her expression if you’ve gained, lost or stayed the same. I got out of line twice to go to the bathroom, just in case. I took off my shoes, my pedometer, my glasses and my jewelry.
She looked at me. I looked at her. I stepped on the scale. She smiled, stuck the weekly printout in my record book, and said only “Glad you made it this morning” as she handed back my book. Geez; I knew it was bad. Why had I had that second piece of pizza two nights earlier?
I’d been making excuses all the way to the meeting. The jeans I’d worn weren’t completely dry, I’d told my friend when she picked me up. I’d forgotten to put them in the dryer until that morning. She groaned with me; how many extra tenths of a pound from damp leaden denim? (When I’d started WW, I made a vow to wear the same outfit to the meetings so when I reached my goal I could bask in my loose clothes.)
Once I sat down, I peeked at my weight and gave thanks. No gain, no loss. I was exactly the same.
And that’s pretty much how the rest of my Tuesday unfolded. No better, no worse; just the same.
Until I started to write, counted the pages, and noticed how far behind I was. Until I looked at the calendar, found my to-do list, and flew in a mad panic to catch up. Until I realized—holy smokes—I hadn’t picked Tuesday’s blog.
I know I’ve said this before—but I did see Gone With The Wind six times when I was in college, plus we have it on DVD. (Only now does the irony of the title hit home…)
To quote Scarlett O’Hara once again, Tomorrow is another day.
Hopefully not a windy one! ~ JD here.