In the last week I’ve lost 4.4 pounds on Weight Watchers. I cut out wine entirely, which was something I never, ever thought I could do. In the end, it turned out not to be as hard as I thought it would be.

Last night I went to the big WW meeting, where one thing stood out to me: I have the idea that I can’t be thin. I’m big boned, I’ll tell myself, or predisposed to being obese. Or that if I am thin, I won’t be able to eat, so why bother?

Even though I tell myself this, I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s me, telling myself something that is self-defeating. And oh by the way, if that’s true, why not have another glass of wine and a piece of dark chocolate? Just a little extra misery heaped on.

I was watching the news the other night and enjoyed a story about how even French folks are getting fat. Everybody’s eating badly, and there you have it. In any case, a very, very French nutritioinist came on and said “you know, you cannot have everything you want, whenever you want. Because you will become a verrrrryyy beeeeg perzon.” Maybe it was the way she said it, but it was funny and true.

A while ago I saw a TV show about meth, and a guy said the single hardest piece of getting off the stuff was not giving it up. Rather, he said the hardest thing was to change every single aspect of his life. Because every single piece of his life was connected to meth.

I thought of that guy yesterday when I was invited to go have lunch. Sounds innocuous enough, except that it was a brewpub, with beer that I love, and a menu full of bar burgers and other forbidden items. The old me would have pounced on a pint and ordered a burger. I liked the old me well enough, and just walking into the place made me wonder if I could make it through the meal without veering off course.

The good news for me is that I did my duty. I ordered a diet Coke and a salad. (Let’s get it out of the way that a salad at that type of place seems to have everything a burger would have on it - cheese, bacon, avocado - without the bun and the burger.) But I ate the lettuce and tomotes in the salad with a tiny bit of dressing. I am here to tell the tale, guilt-free.

Maybe I can make is so that every single part of my life is not connected to the enjoyment of food and wine.

Ok, so I’m getting back into it. I’m even getting by without wine with my dinner. It’s a sacrifice for me, although it’s probably not nearly as challenging for someone else.

I figure I’m down about a pound. Not bad for something that started on Monday. Everytime I want to veer off course, I remember that I need to lose 67 pounds — only three pounds less than my 70 pound Labrador/Rottweiler dog. That’s sobering. But useful. Now that I look at him, he looks heavy.

I made it through the first day of Weight Watchers. I didn’t cheat, I got a little exercise with the dogs, ate well and went to bed early. The first meeting was instructive, in that the team there surmised that I need to lose 67 pounds to achieve my ideal weight. Here’s what’s sad about that: I had no idea I was truly that fat. I mean, I knew I needed to lose 60 pounds or so, but somehow the 67 just seems worse. Oh well.

So I figure I need to extend my participation in Weight Watchers to at least Christmas, and possibly into 2007. Ho ho ho.

For the last 25 years, I’ve been fat. Once or twice, I’ve managed to lose enough weight to be called average, but mostly, I’ve just been fat.

It’s pretty clear that all the diets, pills, snake oils and other potions I’ve tried haven’t worked. I’m still just plain fat. I even created this blog with the idea that writing about being fat would somehow help me not stay fat. I figured the public shame of putting my obesity on parade might make me want to lose weight. But so far, no luck. Today, I weigh more than I did when I started last summer. Ughh.

For the two people who have kindly commented on my blog, I say thank you. Thank you for your support and nice thoughts. So it probably won’t surprise you to leearn that I’ve decided to join Weight Watchers. Weight loss is certainly not working on my terms, so I need to switch terms no matter how much I hate the idea. I don’t like to admit defeat.

Here’s my plan. I will go on the program, lock stock and barrel, for 40 weeks. I will go to the meetings. I will stay within my points range. I will go to the gym. Forty weeks from tomorrow is December 11. Why 40 weeks? Because I figure it will take that long, and that much commitment, to lose 60 pounds. And then, I’ve got to figure out how to maintain that weight.

This is awful!

I’m getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Soon I’ll be fatter than I’ve ever been. And yet … today I don’t care! I’m sick of worrying about it. I’m tired of fighting the good fight. By golly, I feel like it’s just not going to get better, and that I’m never going to be able to manage anything better, so why bother?

But then, I don’t want to give up, either, and end up like the twins.

The problem with weight loss is that you have fundamentally change your life. I guess my life is pretty screwed up if I can’t manage this aspect of it. Today I feel like there’s no way I can manage this.

Did anyone else see the show that featured the one-ton brother and sister? Together, they weighed just more than 1,100 pounds. Now that’s fat.

But I have questions about this. First of all, at what point do you just give up entirely? Is it when you can’t reach around your backside to take care of business after going to the bathroom — and you decide it’s really not that important anyway? Although I’m clearly no sylph, I wonder about how it is that you could become SO immobilized by your weight. All I can think is that these folks must have a pretty good support system. Because if you’re that fat, somebody’s got to bring you your chow and take care of you. If you can’t wipe your own ass, then that’s a problem, particularly if you just don’t care.

This comes to mind after going to a Chinese restaurant last night. Let’s say right now that all food that comes from that restaurant is off the plan. But who cares. Last night my partner said “let’s go” and I agreed because I didn’t care.

As we entered, an enormous woman and her colossal husband were just about to be seated. The woman was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and a skirt, with no jacket. Mind you, it was 45 degrees, but this gal was sweating. And she quite honestly had a serious case of body odor. (Disclaimer …. not all fat people smell, and not all fat people sweat, and not all fat people are unattractive — I know this. I’m one of them.)

I looked her over and wondered: When did she give up? Was it at 160 pounds? Was it when she had to get a handicapped license plate? Was it when her husband said “I love you, regardless of your size?”

I don’t know. But I do know, I’m not ready to give up. Even if I do cheat and don’t lose any weight, I still think it’s important to try.

I suppose I’m the eternal optimist. I can still visualize what it might feel like to get comfortable within my own skin.

I love meatloaf, but have been looking for a lighter version for years. Since I couldn’t find one, I made this up myself. It’s very tasty!

Ingredients:

1 lb. ground chicken
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan (the real thing)
1 tbl. olive oil
1 finely chopped onion
2 cups thinly sliced small portobello mushrooms
3 plump cloves garlic
1 tsp. hot chile flakes (the kind you put on pizza)
1 tsp. thyme
1 tsp. sage
salt and pepper to taste
2 slices whole wheat bread
2 eggs

1. Preheat oven to 375F.
2. Put chicken and Parmesan into a bowl.
3. Saute onion and garlic in olive oil until translucent.
4. Add mushrooms to onions and garlic and saute until mushrooms are golden.
5. Add chile flakes to onion mixture; saute for another minute. Turn off heat and allow to cool for a few minutes.
6. Tear up bread into small crumbs. Add with spices, salt and pepper to chicken mixture. Add eggs. Mix with your hands until evenly blended.
7. Add slightly cooled onion/mushroom mixture to chicken. Mix with your hands until evenly blended, but don’t over massage.
8. Put into loaf pan and bake for about an hour, or until temperature reaches 165F using an instant read thermometer.
9. Remove from oven and let stand for 10 minutes.
10. Eat and enjoy!

I just came home from CES in Las Vegas, and the fact that I survived now means that I can really knuckle down on my diet. Las Vegas may be the food capital (since every major chef seems to have a restaurant there), but I can tell you that I saw NONE of that. Instead, I was marooned on the floor of the Sands Convention Center, where doughnuts are sold as a side order to iceberg lettuce salads that are drenched with suspicious-looking creamy dressing. I had a hot dog and Cheetos for lunch one day. Yikes.

But now I’m back in the lovely and delightful Bay Area, and fired up to feel better. Yesterday, I bought a step and distance pedometer, and I’m going to try to hit 10,000 steps a day. I did okay yesterday. After I put it on in mid-day, I hit 7,700 steps. That’s not too bad, considering I wasn’t really trying. So today, I’m going to hit 10,000, no matter what.

Today is the first day I’m really beginning to feel normal after all the badness that went into my system over the last week. Stress and terrible food is a really bad combination. Of course, I’m not telling anyone anything new here, but the last week just reinforces it for me. There’s a direct link between my mental health, good food, exercise and stress level. When the balance goes out of whack, I get very cranky, very fast. I feel awful.

The thing I’ve realized is that I’ve felt bad for a long time, without knowing exactly why. Now I think I get it: If you take care of yourself, you feel better mentally and physically. Wow! Now there’s a barn-burner of an idea!

I’ve put on 7.5 pounds in the last three weeks, and eight pounds total since my last tonnage report. If it’s possible to be more unmotivated and flabby, I’m not sure how. Let’s put it this way — don’t get between me and See’s Toffee-ettes; you could be crushed.

This year I’ve managed to lose … NOTHING! I’m sort of like the stock market. Up and down, up and down, and finally, just ever so slightly down. It’s been a rough year. My dad died. My business went through a tough patch. My in-laws came to visit (and stayed…and stayed!). All of that comprises some great big fat excuses. Through it all, though, I’d still rather be thinner. I’m just not getting there.

So here’s my resolution. I am going to resume regular posting. I’m going to post more recipes that comply with Weight Watchers. And I’m even going to go back to Weight Watchers (I think I can stomach it).

Why all the renewed commitment? Because now I feel like the worst is over, and my time is my own. Meaning I can work out if I want to. Meaning I don’t have to spend weeks at a time caring for others. Now I feel that I can devote a little time to me. Because no one else will. So I better start now if I want to get anywhere.