Monday Confessional

Special Thursday Night Confession: 3 days and about 87 points later...

So since Monday my head was all a flutter with deep thoughts of life, I didn't confess anything for the week. So I thought I would make it for it tonight, with my confession of this: I've re-joined Weight Watchers

The new year, Jennifer Hudson, a lady at TJ Maxx that asked Zoe if she was going to "be a big sister soon", and my friend Maria all played a big role in the decision. But since I actually completed all levels of Angry Birds, I needed something new to obsess over. So off I went to weigh in and sit through the introduction of PointsPlus. My take? It's lipstick on a pig - just a new color lipstick.

However you slice and dice it, we all know the answer to weight-loss is actually fairly "simple" - eat less, drink more water and exercise. Viola. We see the men in our lives do it all the time! "Honey, I'm feeling flabby..." all of a sudden they are running again, not eating bags of chips while standing over the sink and switching to diet soda and BAM! They are 15 lbs lighter (MEN. But we get to birth babies! I don't think that was really a fair trade there, ladies). And while yes, the points have changed - most people get 29 points a day {forever} and 49 weekly BONUS points, fruit is now free (because as they like to say, "you're not at WW because you ate too many fruits and veggies!") and wine is now 4 points instead of 2 (priorities) - it's basically the same program.

But what I do like about the new PointsPlus is that they have made it easier to make the "better health decision." This was my biggest problem with the program last time I did it: that instead of eating right, people (myself included) just ate as much processed low-point food as possible. 

Take the 3 PM snack attack - you have 2 points to spare, do you reach for a 2 point apple or a 2 point bag of baked Doritos or a 2 point Jello Pudding Snack? In the past, one would probably reach for the chips or sweetie. Now, being that fruits are free, it's more like "I'll have that apple/pear/grapes/banana first so I can have a glass and a 1/2 of wine later!" Okay, maybe not the best example, but you catch my drift. 

The best part about Weight Watchers for me, and why I've been moderately successful with it in the past, is that I am held accountable and forced to face the music about just how fattening the majority of food I consume without thinking about it is. I'm the queen of exclaiming "Really! I usually do eat healthy! I don't get it!" and really, it's true. Fast food is an occasional occurrence, I don't buy big bags of chips, we use 1% milk, and buy "better for you" alternatives from Trader Joes. Yes, we do eat out, but at good restaurants that serve good food. But even "good food" can be bad. 

A great example is the leftover from NYE Ham Sandwich-fest Boudin sourdough roll. Sweet and innocent looking and something I consumed 3 of earlier in the week, this sucker clocks in at 8 points. EIGHT POINTS. For a BUN. That's 2 glasses of wine and a banana, in case you are keeping track. 

So now I'm thinking about things more. Instead of the random handful of almonds (not "technically" bad, but still), I will try to reach for grapes. Instead of an assortment of crackers, salami and cheese, we will have sliced cucumbers and tzatziki sauce! Pizza will be a treat, not a staple, in the dinner rotation. And I'll recite the good old 80's WW mantra that we probably all remember from our mothers: "Nothing tastes as good as it feels to be thin!"

Except for maybe tots and chicken & waffles. Those taste 50 million times better than being thin.

Oy. Issues. 

Monday Confession: Opinions … everybody’s got one

Life has zipped by over the past few weeks. Contracts ending, new ones beginning, schedule changes, new routines and a 4-day getaway has thrown things for a loop. I swear it was just October 3rd and now here I am putting last minute touches on Halloween and Zoë’s birthday.

Over the past few weeks I’ve actually experienced, ate and wore things that in my head deserve a review.  And I’ve wanted to get it down, but alas, I haven’t. So this week, I’m going to do a review week. Each post will be about something that I’ve experienced over the past month – free things and things that were all me, I’m going to share the highlights, and disappointments of my month.

My Monday Confession is actually more of a promise: I’m going to tell it like I see it this week.  

On a very ironic side-note: I'm also featured over on Rock On Mommies this week talking about working with PR agencies and, specifically, reviews. This was not planned, but this week I do hope to set a good example and include some helpful reviews. If you want information on my review policies, please see my disclosure page for more details.

 

Monday Confessional: Dancing Queen

First off, yes. I do realize that is not Monday, but Tuesday. I know this because of my iCal, and not the internal clock in my body which still thinks it's midnight on Saturday night. Now, I know I'm not "old" in the true sense of the word. Or should I say that I am not elderly? But I am old enough these days that a weekend in Vegas now apparently needs a week-long recovery. 

While I feel that I should really do a post about all the wonderful things I learned during BlogWorld Expo and all the fabulous people I finally met face-to-face, that's not what my Monday Tuesday confessional is about. It's about exposing a little of myself to the world so that you can point your finger and mock me or share in the pain of my experience. 

Let's set the scene: Saturday night, Las Vegas, Aria Hotel and Casino. Beautiful, fabulous, delicious meal at Shaboo Sushi then off to the BlogWorld party of the evening at Haze nightclub. While back in college I went dancing Wednesday-Sunday, I honestly can't remember the last time I slipped on my dancing shoes. Walking into the club I was immediately back in my early 20's. The smoky atmosphere, the thumping music, the squeezing through the throngs of people to belly up to the bar. Ahhhhaaa...it felt like coming home. 

And we danced. We danced our asses off. When the DJ blasted my new favorite song "G6", I may have even been dancing on a box. When we stumbled out of the club around 1 AM it wasn't due to intoxication as much as my sore, swollen feet that were stuffed inside my 6 inch wedges. Because I'm a thinker, I had shoved a pair of flats in my purse and after being directed to a local bench, my feet were once again my friends. Yeah, the feet were fine, but it was my knees that rebelled.

Swollen and stiff, my knees are still recovering from one night of dancing 3 days later. Which makes me wonder if my club days really should be officially over. Looking around the club on Friday night, I kept wanting to pull down the hems of the dresses of the girls so that their nether regions weren't hanging out the bottom of their dresses. People in my age group keep saying things like "I can't remember the last time I was at a club" and while I had a blast, I will say that I kept wondering if people were looking at me and kinda laughing. Or wondering what I was doing there. Did I look out of place? Being there, dancing, did I look...silly?

So my confession for this week: I'm Beth, I like to dance and my knees hurt.