An unprompted look at my ass leads me here...

Ah, Weight Watchers. It has been too long. Monthly I see your charge show up on my bank statement and think, "Well, I've seriously got to stop paying their light bill." But in the back of my mind, I also think, "Well, it's there if I want it."

I've had a love/hate relationship with WW over the years, I won't lie. And not purely because of my sense of denial (dude, it sooo doesn't work [when I cheat and drink a bottle of wine but write in "5 points"]), but also because of my sense of entitlement (who punishes an avocado like this!? It comes from a TREE!).

No worries, my little friend. I'll be visiting. Often.

But entitlement has settled comfortably around me in the shape of chins and dimples in weird places and an ass I don't recognize. And I don't even look at my ass. Ever, really. Except, perhaps, by mistake. And that happened the other day. And I thought, what is that sad white saucer behind me? Yup, sad white-girl ass. Flat. Deflated. But substantial all the same. Now if I'm going to have junk in my trunk, it better be a thing to marvel over in a GOOD way. As in: Daaaaamn, girl! Not as in: Sweetie, maybe you shouldn't tuck that shirt in.

So here I am. Ready to give this another try. And I'm blogging about it because I was concerned that I don't already overshare with you all. Maybe it will keep me on track if I can bitch about the internal battle I'm about to wage between body and mind. Because if you can't laugh at your girth, what will you laugh at? While eating an entire avocado. Because it's healthy. Naturally. Because it's from a tree.

And if time passes and I've stopped writing about my health, let's agree now that we both know I'm on a bender somewhere, probably enjoying myself. And let's not judge me too harshly.