I don't post much about Weight Watchers, probably because that's yesterday's thinking for me. It's today's thinking in the sense that I want to get back to my goal weight that I reached a year ago, but yesterday's thinking in terms of how to do it. I know how by 90lbs. This 'journey' as WW likes to call it, is four years old now. It was a question of starting again and not ripping up at myself any more. Which is hard to do. Lots of writers have a very active critic in their head. Mine has a PhD, I think. I would guess that killing Oz's self-esteem over a period of many years was my internal critic's original research for his/her dissertation. But enough of that. Go away critic. You're not currently wanted or needed.

Yesterday the leader read her New Year's poem, which I have now heard 4 times. In WW, wearing one's husband's clothing is considered a sign of being overweight. But as usual, I don't fit with the group (any group). When I can wear my husband's clothes, I'm thin. It's a thrill to put on his workshirt and button it, to steal it out of his closet or his (clean) laundry. To have him say "Hey! Isn't that mine?" And when I'm draped in an XXL Amherst T-shirt at the gym, it's not HIS college logo I'm sporting. It's mine. That T-shirt used to fit me. Snugly.

This morning I was musing on all that as I grundged my way to the barn in my (men's) padded flannel shirt and pink Wellies. I like wearing men's clothes. Especially if they're size M or L. (I'll never fit an S.) I like living on the edge of the 'burbs with some real small farms still around me, with cows for neighbors, with neighbors who also like to do chores in grundgy flannel and Wellies. People give me odd looks if I go east to shop (Trader Joe's, Whole Foods) looking like this. One county over only bag ladies dress like this. Bag ladies and crazy writers.

Frog Out