Two weeks ago, Wednesday, I went back to Weight Watchers. Some of you may be aware that I lost 30 pounds a few years ago by following the Weight Watchers Points Plan. I got arrogant, figuring I didn't need Weight Watchers anymore. I knew the plan. I knew how to keep my weight under control.
Next thing I know, I've apparently relocated 20 pounds of the 30 I lost and I've got pants I can't wear because they won't go past my thighs. I would probably fit right in with the kids who wear their jeans hanging off their backsides, but it doesn't look comfortable. Plus, I can't walk like that. I could barely make it from the bed (where I tried to tug the jeans on) to the closet (where I'm going to hang them back up 'just in case').
I'm sure I've written before about my battle with the weeds in my lawn. It was obvious when my husband and I bought the house that the weeds had been allowed to run amok with little supervision on the part of the previous homeowner.
But my husband and I were naively confident that we could wrestle them back under control. We've owned the house for six years now and, not only have we not conquered the weeds, we now have a lawn full of dead grass. This is not entirely our fault -- the neighbor had a patch of dead grass first and it spread to our lawn faster than chicken pox spreads through a first grade class at the elementary school. Not only that, but it's killing grass so fast that every time I blink, I swear I see it moving diligently across what is left of the grass I've managed to keep alive. I'm sure I hear it taunting me when I go out to get the mail.