tonight, stephen is taking me to my 1st Weight Watchers meeting.i've never been a fan of "meetings". i think they're wonderful for other people, but i do think there's a certain stigma attached to attending a help-group. i think that may actually be the trouble...i hate to admit when i need help. if i can't do something by myself, i cross my arms and scowl and claim not to have wanted to do (whatever) it (is) in the 1st place. i don't know why...it's just my thing. i'd rather admit defeat than accept a handout.
this Weight Watchers thing reaks of self-help. i'm gonna try my best not to judge all the fat Staten Island housewives/soccer moms and their knuckle-dragging husbands, that i'll be rubbing chubby elbows with, until i've actually met them.
let the bean counting begin.
"How you loved to feed me! Look at your chubby baby now, ma, I'm a fat, fat man, a damn fatso. I can't stop the fat!"~ Fatso (Dom Deluise)
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