Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the encouragement and kind words about my declaration that I plan to lose 40 pounds in the next five months.
My favorite comment interaction was this one from my friend and most loyal blog commenter, Leslie.
Not one of you said I don’t look like I have 40 pounds to lose (I was really hoping for that), so that must mean I really do need to lose it. It is so strange, though, because when I look in the mirror I usually think I look pretty good. Not at my fighting weight, but pretty good.
It’s the photographic evidence that makes me know that it has to come off.
So, I officially started back on Weight Watchers this morning by legitimately forgetting to weigh in. And I also officially have a case of the Hangries.
I’m internationally known for my hangry problem.
On a ride in 2005 from Paris to London on the Eurostar I showed my tail by roaring at a packed train car that “I just want to eat my effing quiche,” after I tried and failed three times to sit in a seat for which I didn’t hold a ticket. In my defense, it wasn’t a problem on the way there; everyone just sat wherever. But on the way back suddenly everyone wanted to be a stickler for rules, and I was being denied the opportunity to eat during a hangry episode.
Not one of my most stellar moments.
I shudder thinking of how I was the quintessential Ugly American. But you know what? As soon as I found a seat and ate my effing quiche, I was back to my delightful, well-mannered self.
John still makes fun of me for that one. I get mad when he brings it up.
Probably because I’m hungry.
Have you ever had a hangry moment?