Boyfriend

Yes, I have one. It's the most twisted relationship I've ever been in, and that's saying something. We've been on and off again for years, and I just can't seem to shake him. Half the time I want to write 'I love ______ 4eva' on my notebooks and my jeans, the other half of the time I want to kick him in the nuts as hard as I can. When it's good, it's so good. I can talk about him all the time and delight in his tricks and witty comebacks. I can tell my friends how great things are and how I can't believe I ever strayed. But when it's bad, I want to trash him all night long over a bottle of wine and a bag of tostitos.

My boyfriend, you see, is Weight Watchers.

I've counted more points than I care to admit, and I can probably quote food points to you in my sleep. I can tell you what a core food is and isn't, and can tell you that you can have two slices of light wheat bread for one point, and four slices for three. I've been on the roller coaster of the plan and I've enthused over laughing cow cheese spread (1 point per triangle), egg beaters (1 point for a half-cup), wasa bread (points vary per type), and everything in between. I've also sat through ridonculous meetings where newbies marveled over these food discoveries like they were the lost ark, and have seemed utterly befuddled by the powers of Balsamic Vinegar.

"I tried this awesome recipe, it's balsamic vinegar over strawberries. It's incredible."

(this is a recipe?)

"Really? What do you do with the balsamic vinegar?"

You pour it on your feet and then mash the strawberries before picking the pieces out of your toes and deciding not to eat it, thereby resulting in weight loss.

"You, like..marinate the strawberries in the vinegar, but only a few tablespoons and for only like 30 minutes."

"What kind of balsamic vinegar? Is there a special flavor?"

"No, just regular balsamic vinegar."

"Where can I find balsamic vinegar?"

I swear I'm not making one bit of this up.

In the vinegar section. Next to the other vinegars for the love of God.

"Oh, I haven't seen it before."

...and on and on it goes. And each week I try to declare my love for WW, pushing through my bratty feelings of self-pity. See, he's the best boyfriend for me. He's got my best interest at heart, and when I'm a good girlfriend, things go really well. But there are moments when I'm out with friends and wish, too, to dive into the bucket of guacamole and into the pool of margaritas, without thinking about it. Without tracking it in my head or doing geeksquad calculations to see if I have room, points.

But here's what I've realized over the many (many) years of attending meetings and paying someone to weigh me: it's really hard to do Weight Watchers. It's really hard to count and track and be constantly aware and vigilant. BUT, it's much harder, for me.....to be overweight. To constantly pull and push and tug at clothing so that I feel it fits me right. To strategically camoflauge parts of my body with articles of clothing. To only buy handbags and shoes when I go shopping because they are a sure thing. They will fit.

So despite all my kvetching, I'll go back to him. I'll tape his picture to my locker and I'll remember that with all of his flaws, being with him is much better than being without.