"Hello, my names is Charlie."

I have joined the weigh station again. That’s what I now call Weight Watchers. I have to face the fact that, that is my support group. I just wished we’d sit in a circle and say, “Hello, my name is Charlie.” Then the group responds, “Hello, Charlie!” Each week I go in to seek approval from the scales.

I have told myself again that this time I sticking with it. You’d think I’d figure out that I’m a liar. I have done well. I have eaten a lot of 0 point foods. (If you don’t know about Weight Watchers everything has a point. If you get the most points you don’t win it just means you’re fatter and need points to live.) I have been drinking at least ½ gallon of water a day. I’ve burned a tremendous amount of calories looking  for bathrooms.

 This evening I went to the gym. You can tell it’s important to me because I forgot my number. I spent 20 minutes trying to look cool at the keypad by the door secretly hoping someone would come out so I could slip in. Of course they didn’t.

I spotted a free treadmill and got it cranking. I notice home girl across the gym running on hers sideways, and the sweaty red headed man beside her running like I do at 4:59 at the all-you-can-eat-buffet to get the supper menu for the lunch price.

My fear was just getting out down by a senior citizen. I think I’m going to bed and have Ben and Jerry Dreams.